The Rake Magazine

by Peter Schilling

Director Nicholas Ray's first film (from 1948) has been called the most auspicious debut in American movies since Citizen Kane. Based on the dynamite Depression-era gangster novel Thieves Like Us, They Live by Night begins with the daring prison break of three men: a 23-year-old killer named Bowie and the aged, hardened criminals Chicamaw and T-Dub. Unlike the source material, Ray focuses on Bowie, who's been jailed since he was sixteen, and his tormented relationship with the teenage girl Keechie. Ray's instinct for troubled youth may not have been better expressed -- even though he did go on to direct Rebel Without a Cause. Here, he perfectly captures the dangers of that delicate age when a person is thrust from childhood into a world where love and violence are suddenly fraught with (often deadly) significance.

by Peter Schilling Jr.

This could be the best episode ever and still not live up to the hype. After all, the movie is, what, nearly twenty years in the gestation? Give Matt Groening and company credit for assembling the best writers from seasons' past and pulling in David Silverman, co-director from Pixar's superior Monsters, Inc., to help them launch this behemoth. Already acclaimed by British critics as brilliant, the plot is ostensibly about the environment, but reports have it that Green Day, Al Gore, "President" Arnold Schwarzenegger, the religious right, and the New Age left are all skewered. Rumor has it that the story also includes a romance between Lisa and an angst-ridden Irishman, Bart skateboarding in the nude, and the end of the world as we know it.

by Danielle Kurtzleben

Let me start by pronouncing Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix the best Harry Potter film yet, by a long shot. Then again, this isn't much of a pronouncement. There was a lot of room for improvement after the saccharine, slick, and over-produced first four movies. Director David Yates, though new to the franchise, seems to have grasped this, and has finally grounded Harry's world, both emotionally and physically.

One wouldn't be entirely wrong in arguing that there is just better material to work with this time around. We've all heard ample chatter about how dark this film is in comparison to its brethren, but it's not just darkness for its own sake. Phoenix presents us with a downright depressed, all-too-human Harry who has tired of the spotlight, as well as a Voldemort who finally transcends his cartoon villain status and becomes convincingly evil. Daniel Radcliffe and Ralph Fiennes play these respective roles with depth, while sparing us the melodrama.

Order of the Phoenix's emotional accessibility is complemented by a grittier look as well. The usual CGI overkill has been dialed back a step or two, and is also tempered this time around by jumpier camera-work and a grand, sweeping score.

Good performances abound in Phoenix. Radcliffe has matured as an actor, as has Rupert Grint (Ron Weasley), and they play Harry and Ron's teenage-boy friendship without lapsing into silliness or sentimentality. Imelda Staunton is a riot as Professor Dolores Umbridge, turning Rowling's rather flat character into an unthinking, rule-obsessed menace. And the other all-star adult cast members -- Alan Rickman, Maggie Smith, Emma Thompson, and new addition Helena Bonham Carter -- each perform gloriously in the (sadly) short time allotted them.

Which brings us to Phoenix's greatest failing: it's just too short. The over-600-page-long book has been whittled down into just over two hours of film. Though the story is wisely streamlined in many ways -- there is no Quidditch, little intrusion by annoying house-elves -- the story is too clipped, and non-devotees of Rowling's books will likely find themselves lost among numerous plot-holes. Even the most important plot point -- the prophecy on which the entire Phoenix story hinges -- lacks an adequate explanation.

In many ways, Phoenix allows non-stop action to trump story-telling. But one must give it credit where credit is due -- where previous Harry Potter movies might have had us rolling our eyes at childish silliness, this one at least leaves us with a tear or two to dab away.

by Eeva-Liisa Waaraniemi

Do you ever finish watching a movie and wish you could see the beginning again because now you "know" the characters and so you think if you could see them again, it would be more meaningful somehow? Broken English is one of those movies. It starts with close-ups of Nora (Parker Posey), an unhappy young woman, anxiously yet unenthusiastically dressing up for a friend's wedding anniversary party. By the end, you're rooting for this woman whose discontent and frailties have become familiar. According to "real" reviewers (which I am not [editor remarks about the joyous dangers of self-deprecation]), and comments from a layman or two around me, the film is based on a very cliché premise: someone unlucky in love gives up on ever finding it, and then... something unexpected happens. This is why, generally lacking cynical judgment, I approached the movie with lukewarm expectations. But I walked out of the theater quite pleased, concurring with my friend that we'd seen a pretty good movie -- and I'd say low expectations doesn't completely account for that appreciation. The movie is actually quite full of clichés, but you know what? Most of the time, it works. Posey portrays Nora perfectly. Julien, the French love interest, comes off goofy and annoying at first, but by the end of the movie has women melting in their seats for what seems a smolderingly perfect male specimen. By the way, all the French (from Julien to strangers on the street) are extremely well-adjusted, often sharing life lessons with the messed-up, confused Americans -- another cliché, yet not ad nauseum.