First-time director. Cobbled-together financing. Three hours long. Partial subtitles.

And a Western, to boot.

Fifteen years ago this month, "Dances With Wolves" (1990) opened against the odds. And went on to win seven Oscars, including best picture.

Kevin Costner (who was director, co-producer and star) plays the lone officer at a frontier post who ultimately finds his place in the cosmos among the neighboring Sioux.

This a film of family, dignity and stunning panoramas. Yes, it's mythic, complete with a sweeping music score. But it's the kind of myth we crave, we need still, of our connection to the land and to each other.

Posted by Barbara Page at 10:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

James Bond fans were stirred -- and not a little shaken -- when British actor Daniel Craig was tapped as her majesty's sixth 007.

For one thing, Craig isn't darkly handsome. He's blond with the rough-hewn face of a thug.

For another, the movies where he has had a leading role are bleak ("Enduring Love"), bleaker ("The Mother") and oven black ("Sylvia").

An exception: "Layer Cake" (2004), a crackerjack gangster film. Craig plays a drug trade middleman who is suddenly thrust into the messy upper tiers of the London underworld.

Unrelentingly violent, it isn't for everyone, but Craig has a compelling presence. This Bond might surprise the skeptics with next year's "Casino Royale." He just might have power -- star power.

Posted by Barbara Page at 10:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The recent documentary "The Aristocrats" offers three dozen comedians and their take on a scabrous joke. Scabrous, as in offensive, disgusting, vile. Not for the kiddies. As the comics point out, the punch line is not "The Aristocats" (1970).

Because this is for the kiddies.

In the animated feature, a high-toned feline (voiced by Eva Gabor) and her kitties are dumped in the country and must find their way back to Paris with the help of a scruffy but hep cat (Phil Harris). This is a sweet, musical, pre-Pixar treat -- probably too tame for older children and their parents but perfect for the under-6 set and their grandparents. Acts of kindness triumph. No joke.

Posted by Barbara Page at 11:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Electronic eavesdropping has been a staple of thrillers -- and real-life intrigue.

Of late, it has been a key element in the prosecution of former state Treasurer Robert Vigil on corruption charges. It's key, too, to Francis Ford Coppola's little gem, "The Conversation" (1974).

Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) is a master snooper who's paid well to record a young couple in San Francisco's busy Union Square. Harry, whose loneliness is as transparent as his plastic raincoat, professes not to care what his subjects say. But this time he does, and that's trouble. Coppola's script is part Hermann Hesse (the oscillating soul), part Antonioni (the repeated conversation), part Hitchcock (a psycho toilet).

But Coppola makes it more than a pastiche; it's a deft balance of character and suspense. In a distinguished career, "The Conversation" is one of his best.

Posted by Barbara Page at 11:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)