Double Dare, a documentary about professional stuntwomen, turned out to be one of the very most enjoyable films I've seen in this (so far) weak film year, but it would be a small gem in any year. (I guess I'm not the only one who thinks it's been a weak year. A spate of articles recently has pointed out the disappointing box office so far in 2005.)

It's not for everyone, of course, but if the topic interests you, it's very well done. As a kid, I was a fan of Wonder Woman, and I've been a big fan of other action heroines like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and, of course, The Bride in Kill Bill. So I had some natural interest to begin with. The film focuses on veteran Jeannie Epper, who worked on WW (soon, of course, to be a movie scripted and directed by Buffy creator Joss Whedon) and, amazingly, continues to work today past an age people retire from desk jobs; and Zoe Bell, the antipodean who spent years doubling for Xena. Luckily, the doc doesn't bore us with too much stunt footage, selecting just a few impressive moments (the training as well as the unvarnished stunts in all their glorious danger), and it also offers some astounding footage that puts you in the shoes of the gals as they pursue their oddly glamorous yet unglamorous careers.

The talking heads are fun, including some unusual (for Tinseltown) honesty from Lynda Carter; great contributions from the consummate pro Steven Spielberg, who gives some background on Jeannie Epper's legendary Hollywood family, noting that in his 1941, there were "Eppers flying everywhere" in one particular fight scene; and comic relief from Quentin Tarantino, who admits that at one point while searching for Uma's stunt double for Kill Bill, "We were shittin' bricks, man, we were fuckin' shittin' bricks." The film serves up deeply rich portraits of some interesting people and is surprisingly intelligent and hearfelt.

(IMDB's strange formula gives the film an unusually low rating, but if you click on the vote button, you'll see the vast majority of viewers showered the film with the top score of 10: the average score would be 8.3--that their "weighted" formula results in 4.7 is absurd.)

Rating: 3 1/2 out of 4 stars.

In observance of Frank Gorshin's death, MeTV re-ran the first two episodes of Batman, "Hi Diddle Riddle" and "Smack in the Middle," the first of which garnered him an Emmy nomination according to IMDb. Strange episodes, more serious than later on when the show found its style. (It features an awkward--nuclear!--death of the bad girl, a touch quickly ironed out of its later formula. I prefer the flirting with Newmar's Catwoman.) Gorshin was truly manaical running around in green underwear and cackling like a looney. Clearly he was a major creative influence on the show.

In my recent book round-up, Freakonomics was one of my top picks. Now I read that it's "this spring's 'it' book," and that it has an unusually good blog supporting it. I look forward to reading it down the line.

Song: Chicago by Sufjan Stevens, the best I've heard yet from him.

Kafka, Meet Capra?

Steven Spielberg has declared war on fear itself--the post-9/11 heebie-jeebies, to be specific. His new film, The Terminal, is an unlikely blend of the bureaucratic nightmare scenarios of Kafka and the heroism, optimism, populism and dreaminess of Capra. Spielberg has set his sights on that most serious, fear-ridden, uncomfortable, unromantic place in contemporary American life--the airport--in an all-out campaign to re-humanize the place, even trying to make the place suitable once again for romance.

It's interesting to compare The Terminal to his previous two features. Like Minority Report, it seems to share a concern with the invasions of privacy and intrusions of technology in our increasingly security-conscious world. But where Minority Report used the paranoid sf/techno-thriller genre as an extreme expression of our Homeland Security era, The Terminal addresses similar concerns through a romantic fable, and I found the change of strategy refreshing, even, in some ways, bold and radical. Many will find the lack of believability a big problem. Where's the fingerprinting? ask some. What if the main character were Arab instead of E. European? ask others. They miss the point entirely: Spielberg wants to transform reality, make us forget it.

Catch Me if You Can, the best of Spielberg's recent films, evoked the early 60s zeitgeist, the enchantment that America once felt about the jet age. I had a great conversation with my mom last year, as she praised the film along these lines, nostalgically recollecting the way she as a girl--and society in general--once revered pilots and stewardesses as heroes of a symbolic future. To me the whole thing was succinctly evoked in Catch Me's use of Sinatra's "Come Fly With Me." The Terminal isn't about pilots (or pilot impersonators) but it clearly wants to recapture some of that lost romance in association with air travel, drawing inspiration and a sense of wonder from the connections and commingling possible only in airports, yet seems to stop short of suggesting that we can ever go back to those days. I especially like the way the film contrasts styles of patriotism, associating the flag-pin-on-the-lapel variety--the kind that lines up behind politicians and governments--with Frank Dixon, the narrow-minded bureaucrat, while on the other hand singling out jazz as an almost holy example of what to celebrate in America. (Note the golden halo light when the time comes.)

Despite the charms of the film, there are some problems. It lacks a little excitement to be a really big hit, it panders to our desires to see the best and ignore the worst in people (although you could argue that it makes a point of showing that this is just the mistake Navorsky makes concerning Amelia), but the biggest problem is that Spielberg still doesn't know how to portray women. It's as if in Spielberg's world there are regular people (guys, workers, strangers, but also daughters and mothers), and then there are women you're attracted to. The characters he has his leading actresses play often make little sense. The charming Catherine Zeta-Jones seems to have adopted the strategy of moving in a blur in order to disguise this problem. What else can she do? Spielberg clearly needs a gay best friend to play ambassador to the opposite sex. I volunteer, Steven.

But I recommend the film highly. Hanks is great, and Kumar Pallana, the delightful older Indian actor (on temporary loan from Wes Anderson?), provides some fun as a janitor who likes to watch people fall on their asses. Hey, it wouldn't be a Spielberg film without a little schadenfreude.

Over the last few months I've seen all three of the Indiana Jones films again, as they've been released on DVD. I found them to be as enjoyable as they ever were, and I look forward with cautious optimism for the fourth, currently slated for sometime in 2006.

In honor of the occasion, a rough list of my top ten favorite Spielberg films:

1. Catch Me If You Can (2002) - Spielberg has consistently improved, and this seemingly modest accomplishment is his most personal film. It displays a new level of elegance and control in his style, and DiCaprio is one of the most gifted actors Spielberg's ever worked with.


2. Empire of the Sun (1987) - An awfully heavy film, but a tour de force nonetheless. A meaningful and unique war drama, another terrific cast (including a small turn by...Ben Stiller!?!)


3. Artificial Intelligence: AI (2001) - Audiences turned their noses up at this one, but it's a brilliant film, teeming with visual wonder, a perfect synthesis of Kubrick's and Spielberg's ideas (and, as such, it holds a special place in film history).


4. Jurassic Park (1993) - My favorite of Spielberg's amusement-park-ride films. Not only were the effects a real breakthrough, but the ideas put a fresh spin on the old Faustian theme. Spielberg finds the best use yet for his thematic obsession with families. Plus, a SF picture that isn't about aliens and outer space!


5. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) - THE classic action-adventure summer popcorn film. Along with Star Wars it defines New Hollywood. It holds up very well, though sometimes it seems almost too witty for its own good. Having watched these movies again, it was such a relief to see how terrific Harrison Ford once was, charismatic, sexy, funny and a rousing hero. Here's hoping Steven will light a fire under his ass for Indy 4.


6. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) - Pure magic, with unforgettable imagery (the tower of mashed potatoes, the sunburn on one side of the face, the boy's room full of activated toys.


7. Minority Report (2002) - Demonstrating that Spielberg is THE master of modern SF movie-making, even over George Lucas. I can't stand Tom Cruise anymore, but even I liked him in this film.


8. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) - A retread to the Nth degree, but so much fun. River Phoenix turns in an excellent performance as young Indy, and Sean Connery is delightful as Jones' dad. (But who would have guessed Connery and Ford would outlive Phoenix?)


9. E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982) - A great film, but never one of my favorites. Truthfully, it gave me nightmares as a kid! But a tearjerking masterpiece.


10. Jaws (1975) - Another film that gave me nightmares as a kid, but also great. I have a mild phobia about the sea, and I wonder if this film is partly responsible!

The rest:

• Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) - The least of the Indy series, but having just watched it on the new DVDs I was surprised how well it held up. Spielberg experiments with new levels of violence (towards children, but also just plain gore and gross-out, as well as occultist-tinged ideas).


• Saving Private Ryan (1998) - A very well made film--sections of it are brilliant, like the Normandy Beach invasion sequence--but ultimately I loathe this film for its propagandistic qualities. The acting, esp. Giovanni Rabisi, is excellent.


• The Color Purple (1985) - Much too starchy. It screams, Take Me Seriously! But the acting is often great--remember when Whoopi seemed like a fresh, exciting new presence in film?


• Hook (1991) - Ugh.


• Poltergeist (1982) - Rumor has it Spielberg directed all of part of this film, and if that's true it was a highly effective job. But he's not officially credited, so I don't count it.


• Schindler's List (1993) - There's no way to rank this film with the others. I'd feel creepy putting it in my top ten. It would feel almost sacrilegious. It had a unique effect on me. It's a masterpiece, but it's not a film one wants to revisit, despite its displays of virtuosity. My favorite sequence will always be the one where the various Jews are called by name and each one is shot in a different way, profoundly suggesting each character's individuality.


• Always (1989) - I haven't seen it in 15 years and honestly can't remember more than merely liking it and being happy to see Audrey Hepburn in it.

I haven't seen: Amistad, Duel, 1941

Finally watched HBO's production of Angels in America this weekend. It was brilliant. Mike Nichols' direction is excellent, the special effects fantastic (statues coming to life, the angel bursting through the ceiling, an amazing zoom towards a passenger window of a flying plane), and the theme is pretty (one of Thomas Newman's best), but the acting is absolutely outstanding. I'm not a huge fan of either Pacino or Streep, but here the two live up to every bit of praise they've accumulated in their legendary careers. Pacino sinks his teeth into Roy Cohn as if the part were written for him (finally a great use for his increasingly growly voice), and Streep is terrifying and tragic as Ethel Rosenberg, yet--though I've always thought of her as rather WASPy--also convinces and inspires as an aged rabbi. Likewise, Emma Thompson is ravishing as the angel (and enjoyable as a dyke nurse), Jeffrey Wright has some profoundly powerful exchanges with Pacino, Mary Louise Parker, that muse, is excellent as always, and the trio of Justin Kirk, Patrick Wilson and Ben Shenkman generate real heat and drama in their love triangle. Simon Callow and Michael Gambon are hilarious in what are basically guest appearances as the Dickensian ghosts of Prior's ancestors.

It helps that this was my third time through the play (having read it once and seen it once on stage in Chicago), but seeing it on film really helped me appreciate the text more deeply. I'm impressed now (being on the other side of 2000) with how the whole thing is a kind of fantasia on millenial themes, and a comic one at that (much more than I'd remembered). I was much better able to understand the parallel hallucinations of Prior, Roy, Harper and--arguably--Hannah as a playing out of their inner conflicts (Prior's and Harper's abandonment issues, Roy's repressed conscience, Hannah's spiritual beliefs). That they all work together thematically makes it all the more brilliant. Making the play into a film also obviously encouraged the filmmakers to draw out the text's classic film motif (The Wizard of Oz, Sunset Boulevard, La Belle et La Bête, etc.), yet they dropped the "Very Steven Spielberg" line, a good choice--it works on stage as a cinematic reference but here would be too self-referential. Seeing it on TV also put it into a context I'm used to where cross-cutting between various storylines and sets of characters is common. It also shrunk this epic down to a slightly more manageable size, which is why, I think, for the first time I felt like I could hold the entire play in my mind at once--that is, at least for a moment: if nothing else, the play still reveals itself as the sprawling text of a true man of letters, a polymath. The scope of its ideas is truly epic.