The Birdcage

It tends to be a surprise at how well some works hold up amid the passage of time. The people involved may have passed on since then, but it's how the story has endured that stands out. Several sensibilities have shifted, but it proves to be ahead of its own time.

Take, for instance, Mike Nichols' The Birdcage. Made when the queer community served as little more than a demeaning punchline, it itself shows how unwarranted such "jokes" are, instead showing them in a more sympathetic light. If anything, the butt of the jokes (courtesy of Elaine May's script) are the uptight conservatives whose myopic views are unfortunately still rampant today.

That said, there are moments in The Birdcage that very much date it. The stereotypes are leaned into a bit too broadly at times. (Granted, this was a few years before Will & Grace hit the airwaves, but still.) However, once the first impression has been scraped back, there's more depth to the characters, giving them the dignity they were denied the previous decade. Small steps, but progress all the same.

As expected from a Nichols production, The Birdcage gets some solid work from its roster of actors. There's an irony in there being a film starring Robin Williams (playing the ironic "straight man") where he gets overshadowed by Gene Hackman (not long after his Oscar win for Unforgiven) when it comes to laughs (case in point: the closing scene). Just goes to show that Nichols was good at his job. (One doesn't become an EGOT winner from just showing up, after all.)

The Birdcage may be a product of its time on occasion, but it still treats its subjects better than other similar works of the era. In the time since its release, things have fluctuated between improving and declining for the queer community. One thing, however, has remained consistent: they aren't taking things lying down.

My Rating: ****

Spontaneous Combustion

Tobe Hooper has always been something of an anomaly within Hollywood. After hitting it big with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, he never seemed to reach the same heights afterward. (Even the success of Poltergeist continues to be overshadowed by rumors that Steven Spielberg actually directed it.) Though he shifted to television soon after, that's not to discredit his film work completely.

Now Spontaneous Combustion is hardly top-tier material from Hooper (or from anyone involved in this, really), but it still gets the job done. But boy, even then it's tough to get through at times. (Oh, the plights of late '80s-early '90s horror flicks.)

That's not to say Spontaneous Combustion is completely terrible, far from it. Hooper had a good idea for his picture, make no mistake; the problem is that everything around it stumbles at the starting gate. (Honestly, most of the actors oversell the half-hearted dialogue.)

Of course, there is one shining grace to Spontaneous Combustion: its star, Brad Dourif. Being the kind of actor who knows how to work with what he's given, he elevates the otherwise lackluster title. Though one has to wonder how much of a role Child's Play had on his casting here...

Spontaneous Combustion is by no means a masterpiece both Hooper and Dourif make it mostly tolerable. Though in watching this, it makes one think a retrospective on Hooper is due. Sure, there were some following his death in 2017, but there could stand to be a few more...even if a lot of his output fell flat.

My Rating: ***

Blue Sky

The opening credits of Tony Richardson's Blue Sky depict an assortment of magazines, all advertising glamor and sophistication. Photos of Hollywood starlets strewn about amid promises of beauty if use this product. All the things Carly Marshall (Jessica Lange) yearns for but are just out of her reach.

As the wife of Major Hank Marshall (Tommy Lee Jones), she is expected to be a dutiful housewife and mother. But there's something not quite right with Carly, a fact Hank and their daughters are all too acutely aware of. But as the Mitchells settle in on a new army base, things get more complicated.

There are elements in Blue Sky that are reminiscent of Richardson's films during the British New Wave all those years ago. Co-writer Rama Stagner based Carly and Hank's marriage on her own parents' relationship, and strained connections are no stranger to Richardson. The problem is that it doesn't feel as fraught as, say, Look Back in Anger or The Entertainer.

Indeed, Blue Sky feels incomplete as a story, with many parts that don't always interlock. Granted, Richardson wasn't in the best of health during production (he died of AIDS complications sometime after; the film then sat on the shelf for nearly three years), but even then, he still made the most of it. It's a decent swan song for the director.

Blue Sky mainly relies on Lange (who ended up winning an Oscar) and Jones' work to carry it through but they succeed in doing that. Overall, however, it has good ideas but they are clumsily put together in certain scenes. Still, it's enough for it to be watchable.

My Rating: ****

What's Love Got to Do with It

Brian Gibson's What's Love Got to Do with It opens with a young Anna Mae Bullock getting kicked out of choir practice for jazzing up the gospel. Years later, an older Anna Mae (Angela Bassett) gets a proper chance to perform for Ike Turner (Laurence Fishburne) -- an opportunity that has its many ups and downs.

Admittedly, What's Love Got to Do with It isn't much different from other music biopics (or any biopics, really), in that the actual facts get fudged for dramatic license's sake. (Indeed, both Tina and Ike voiced their displeasure over that.) That said, even with that in mind, Kate Lanier's script is unflinching at times.

There's no doubt that the Turners' marriage was an ugly one at the worst of times but What's Love Got to Do with It makes it absolutely brutal. (Lanier actually omitted most of the brutality Tina mentioned in her autobiography.) The scenes of domestic abuse between them are very hard to watch, especially if you've been in that situation. Certainly not for the faint of heart.

And there's no denying that What's Love Got to Do with It is Bassett's show. Learning to walk and talk like Tina (the singing was lip-synced), she's as electric as the woman she's portraying. It's little wonder how Bassett got an Oscar nomination for her work.

What's Love Got to Do with It -- as stated earlier -- follows the standard biopic format but it's Bassett and Fishburne who keep it afloat. Tina (who passed away in 2023) later said that she didn't like how the film depicted her as a victim. It's true in some scenes but that's far from the actual case. Tina Turner wasn't a victim -- she was a survivor.

My Rating: ****

Party Girl

Daisy von Scherler Mayer's Party Girl opens with Mary (Parker Posey) being arrested for organizing an underground rave. To pay back the bail, she gets a job at the library where her godmother works. But Mary soon finds it hard to balance her nightlife with her day job.

As with many independent productions of the time, Party Girl depicts the struggle of becoming a responsible adult. Everyone when they're younger expects adulthood to be a breeze. Then the reality of employment and paying smacks you upside the head, and it's not as appealing.

Also on display in Party Girl is, well, the party scene of '90s New York City. With a vibrant soundtrack backing it, the film captures that drive for escape from the mundanity of reality. But like everything, it can only sustain you for so long.

Speaking of, Party Girl portrays the anxiety that comes with getting older. You don't have someone besides yourself figuring out what you want to do with your life. Sure, friends and family can encourage (or discourage) you about your goals but your life is yours -- you have to have to figure out what to do with your finite time.

Party Girl is a little slow to start off but once it does, it kicks off. Made between the yuppie era and the new millennium, it has a free spirit both in its lead and its storytelling. Frankly, it's the kind of film that shows life doesn't have to be boring and uptight; you just need to find a good balance of work and pleasure.

My Rating: ****

Passion Fish

John Sayles' Passion Fish opens with May-Alice Culhane (Mary McDonnell) waking up in a hospital room. In her frenzied confusion, she switches on the TV, which happens to be playing her soap opera. The contrast between May-Alice's fictional life and her real one is stark.

After going through a roster of nurses, May-Alice ends up with Chantelle (Alfre Woodard), who has her own baggage. Chantelle sees that May-Alice needs (and, more importantly, wants) to not be pitied but her attempts to take control are mixed. But will the women work things out?

Sayles based Passion Fish on both Persona and his own experiences as both an orderly and a patient. Indeed, his film focuses on recovery not just physical. Sayles shines a light on the emotional rehabilitation of both May-Alice and Chantelle.

Much like Ingmar Bergman's film, Passion Fish shows how the two women are much more than their first impressions. May-Alice is implied to have been discontented before her accident. Chantelle, meanwhile, has a past she's trying to move on from and make amends for. But will either woman find happiness in their new life?

Passion Fish shows two women finding solace in their shared loneliness, a plot seen time and time again in made-for-TV movies on daytime television. But Sayles -- with his keen empathy for the common man -- makes sure not to tread into melodrama territory with both his script and direction. And like his later film Lone Star, it portrays a real sense of humanity during hard times.

My Rating: *****

The Last Seduction

Right from the get-go with her introduction in John Dahl's The Last Seduction, Bridget Gregory (Linda Fiorentino) proves she doesn't take shit from anyone. Interspersed with this, her husband Clay (Bill Pullman) panics as he conducts a drug deal. It's clear who wears the pants in this marriage.

Soon after, Bridget steals the $700,000 Clay got from the deal and skips town. She's aiming for Chicago but she stops just outside of Buffalo. Aside from a false name, Bridget makes no real effort to blend in within the small town. But what else is she planning?

Much like Double Indemnity fifty years prior, The Last Seduction has a female lead playing the men who stupidly cross her path like a cheap piano. But make no mistake -- Bridget Gregory is far more ruthless than Phyllis Dietrichson. Bridget will get what she wants, consequences be damned.

And what a role for Fiorentino to sink her teeth into. Very rarely does an actress get to play a character so icy, so calculating, so vile -- frankly, screenwriters are too cowardly to not even attempt it. But both Fiorentino and Steve Barancik took that gamble, and it paid off beautifully.

The Last Seduction paints an absolutely wicked picture. Save for an unfortunate (and very dated) detail in the third act, it's the kind of neo-noir that shows up once in a blue moon. And like Gone Girl twenty years later, it just goes to show that girls aren't always made of sugar, spice, and everything nice.

My Rating: ****1/2

Bob Roberts

As is often the case with the passage of time, the perception of certain things is bound to alter. What was once taboo is now commonplace, and vice versa. And what was once satire is now an unfortunate reality.

Such is the case with Tim Robbins' Bob Roberts. Originally a mere mockumentary following the titular senatorial hopeful's (Robbins) campaign trail, in the thirty-plus years since its release, it now serves as an uneasy foreshadowing of what was to come following the Obama administration. As such, what Robbins intended as satire becomes far more scathing in hindsight.

Released the same year Clinton was elected, Bob Roberts takes a look at the behind-the-scenes business of a political campaign. Sounds cut and dry, right? Well, it would be were Roberts not the smooth-talking sleazebag of a right-winger (or your standard right-winger, really). And boy, does he know how to play an audience. (Ring any bells?)

Similar to what Robbins did in The Player that same year, Bob Roberts takes a hard look at an otherwise ruthless field to show the depths of how low someone will stoop to in order to get what they want. That's what satire is, after all -- it makes you realize the failings of life; the problem is when you should stop laughing.

Bob Roberts, all these years later, has become less of a mockery of politics and more of a warning for them. There are people who work exactly the way Roberts does, using jargon to thinly veil their true intentions without anyone catching on. And they will vote for them all the same. (And yes, Robbins himself is dismayed that his directing debut "came true".)

My Rating: ****1/2

Ravenous

Antonia Bird's Ravenous opens with John Boyd (Guy Pearce) earning a promotion for his contribution in the Mexican-American War. But we later find out that sad contribution -- infiltrating enemy lines by playing dead -- was not a stroke of genius but rather an act of cowardice. It's because of this that Boyd gets exiled to a remote military post.

Shortly afterwards, a frostbitten man named Colqhoun (Robert Carlyle) shows up. He tells the garrison how his wagon train -- in the grips of starvation -- were reduced to cannibalism and ultimately murder in order to survive. And that's when the real horror begins.

There's a very dark sense of humor running through Ravenous. ("It's lonely being a cannibal. Tough making friends.") And even then it doesn't feel out of place from the film's overall tone. After all, wouldn't you be cracking tasteless jokes in order to ease some of the tension?

On a somewhat frustrating note, this was only one of four feature films Bird made during her career. (After making Ravenous, she shifted her focus back to television, where she remained until her death in 2013.) Did Bird find filmmaking not as rewarding as revision? Or did she endure what many female filmmakers before and since Bird have faced?

Anyway, Ravenous is similar to Kathryn Bigelow's Near Dark in that sometimes a woman's touch is what's needed to an already dark story. (Perhaps coincidentally, Bird was a replacement for original director Milcho Manchevski on the recommendation of Carlyle.) After all, why should men have all the fun? Women can embrace darkness too; just look at Jennifer's Body.

My Rating: ****

Normal Life

The opening moments of John McNaughton's Normal Life take the viewer through the average American small town. Suburbs, strip malls, the like. Then we see Chris (Luke Perry) and Pam Anderson (Ashley Judd) get swarmed by police cars, and that's when the mayhem unfolds.

We then cut back two years to when Chris and Pam first met. Almost immediately, the quiet Chris is drawn to the volatile Pam but it quickly becomes clear that Pam is nigh-unpredictable, which causes concern to those close to Chris. But their happiness (and finances) quickly dwindle after getting married, and Chris takes drastic measures to fix this.

Being based on real events (albeit with changed names), Normal Life was a stark contrast to what audiences knew Perry from. (Test audiences were expecting something more like Beverly Hills, 90210 but got something else entirely; what else would you expect from the man responsible for Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer?) And Perry more than proved himself beyond his Dylan McKay image. It's a shame he passed away last year; he had more to offer.

Similarly, it's frustrating to watch Judd here with the knowledge that her career would suffer a setback "thanks" to Harvey Weinstein (the following year, no less!). But even with that in mind, she's dynamite in this. Like she would in Bug the following decade, she's unafraid to take on such a role.

Normal Life is a damn good picture, the kind you don't really see made much nowadays. (What has McNaughton been up to lately?) Sure, it might've gotten lost in the shadow of Wild Things two years later but that shouldn't discourage you from seeking this out.

My Rating: ****1/2

The Hours and Times

In April 1963, John Lennon and his manager Brian Epstein embarked on a four-day holiday in Barcelona. Naturally, the rumor mill started spinning as to the meaning of this trip without the other Beatles. Neither man disclosed what happened in Spain so what did occur during those days?

Christopher Münch's The Hours and Times explores what might have happened during that trip. (It opens with a disclaimer stating that what's about to unfold only speculation, not fact.) By the time the film was released 1992, neither man could protest what was depicted (Epstein had died in 1967, Lennon in 1980) but again, it's merely a fictionalization of real-life events.

The purpose of the trip isn't outright stated in The Hours and Times but Brian (David Angus) cites it to John (Ian Hart, who'd play Lennon two more times in the years to come) as nothing more than a vacation. Sure, the Beatles had become wildly successful but why not bring the other members? (It's worth bringing up that Epstein was gay, and Barcelona was decidedly laxer about homosexuality than Liverpool, so draw your own conclusions.)

But Münch makes The Hours and Times about desire more than anything else. Similar to how Brian longs for male companionship, it's implied that John yearns to be unattached. (Shortly before he left, his son Julian was born.) He isn't comfortable talking about his home life to Brian, which suggests he doesn't want to be reminded of what waits for him back in England. But is there more to what John wants?

The Hours and Times is far more than a "what if?" situation of real-life events; it's a quiet film about how one's wants can be almost deafening to them. How can one  -- whose desires are frowned upon, no less -- find the happiness they ache for? Some achieve their quest while others aimlessly search for it their whole lives. And in the case of John and most definitely Brian, it may be more of the latter.

My Rating: ****

Love and Death on Long Island

A matter of days after turning seventy-seven, the world of film lost John Hurt. A performer whose presence was always welcome, he could go from leading man to character actor with complete ease. The quality of the project didn't always matter; you could always guarantee Hurt will deliver.

And he does just that in Richard Kwietniowski's Love and Death on Long Island. As the reclusive Giles De'Ath (note the name), Hurt shows an awakening of sorts during the film's duration. And it all starts by going into the wrong movie at the cinema.

He had paid to see an E.M. Forster adaptation but Giles mistakenly ends up seeing a raunchy teen comedy. Just as he's about to leave, he lays eyes on Ronnie Bostock (Jason Priestley), one of the movie's young actors. What ensues for Giles is a slowly unraveling obsession.

In a way, Love and Death on Long Island is an update of Death in Venice: a man past the prime of his life yearns for one who's in the peak of his. It's something often seen throughout fiction, that futile grasp at feeling desired when in old age. Many times it's something that merely adds insult to injury for the elder subject but regardless of what one's age might be, it's merely a need found in most of the human race.

Love and Death on Long Island is merely further testament that Hurt was one of the finest actors of his generation. His passing will leave a hole in the world of cinema, one that will tried to be filled but never will be. He was honestly a one-of-a-kind presence, and he will be missed dearly.

My Rating: ****

Three Colors: Red

There's a sense of finality in Krzysztof Kieślowski's Three Colors: Red. (It being his final film before retiring -- and subsequently his death in 1996 -- might have something to do with it.) It's as though he wants to maintain some closure before his time on this earth was no more.

The film follows Valentine Dussault (Irène Jacob) as she goes about with her day. With a possessive boyfriend waiting for her back in London, she tries to find a sense of independence. Then she meets retired judge Joseph Kern (Jean-Louis Trintigant), and her life slowly changes.

What makes Three Colors: Red so interesting is its unassuming nature. We don't know what to expect from either Valentine or any of the other characters we're introduced to. It's that particular trait from Kieślowski that often ranks him as an unsung great in film.

And Kieślowski shows there's more to the film than it initially lets on. Three Colors: Red is through and through about that ever-present human need to connect. (The opening sequence best proves this claim.) Even when one claims they prefer being alone, they can ache for the care from someone else.

Three Colors: Red is one of those rare swan songs where it leaves the viewer satisfied yet leaves them wanting more. As Kieślowski had shown throughout his extensive career, he was interested in stories about the average human being's day-to-day life. Not those with fantastical elements or absurd plots; he just wanted to depict the world he saw with his own eyes.

My Rating: ****1/2

Three Colors: White

There are those who are basically a punching bag for the whole universe. They try and try and try but they can't escape life's punishments for them. (No one ever gets their fair shake of the stick.)

Karol Karol (Zbigniew Zamachowski) of Krzysztof Kieślowski's Three Colors: White fits this character type to a T. After unwillingly getting divorced from Dominique (Julie Delpy), his life starts to crumble. In his attempts to re-claim his dignity, he goes down a morally ambiguous path.

In contrast with the previous film of this trilogy, Three Colors: White has a dark sense of humor towards Karol's suffering. (It would make Kafka feel pity for him.) But there's something else on focus in the film, something that might not immediately take notice.

Being made in the years after the Cold War's end, Three Colors: White is also an observation on Europe's economy at the time. Kieślowski shows how following the collapse of the Soviet Union, countries once in the tight grip of communist control now thrive. (Okay, maybe that's a bit of a stretch but it's something to consider.)

While not as strong as its predecessor, Three Colors: White has its merits. As is often seen in fiction, the union between Karol and Dominique shows how a supposedly happy marriage is anything but. And as Kieślowski also depicts here, sometimes the tables are turned when one least expects it. (Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse; either way, it will affect their life.)

My Rating: ****

Three Colors: Blue

We all grieve in different ways. Some wallow in their pain, others behave as though nothing has happened. It varies from person to person naturally but it's still a very common occurrence in life.

Krzysztof Kieślowski's Three Colors: Blue focuses on Julie (Juliette Binoche) following the deaths of her husband and young daughter. She tries to disconnect herself from the world afterwards but finds it's a task easier said than done. (No one ever said such a matter would be without its complications.)

Julie finds in her attempts to isolate herself, she ends up connecting more to those around her. There's a certain truth that one might try to reach out during a time of grief, hoping to find some comfort amid their pain. Again, it depends on the person but overall not everyone wants to be completely alone.

As Kieślowski previously showed with The Double Life of Veronique, Three Colors: Blue finds a certain beauty in its simplicity. No desire for the melodramatics, no need for anything overwrought. All he wants the audience to see is how Julie's life has changed.

Three Colors: Blue examines the value of one's life both once it's over and when it's still ongoing. Kieślowski makes a film that's intimate without being intrusive. And being released the same year as many other prestigious productions like Schindler's List and The Remains of the Day, it shows that 1993 was one hell of a year when it came to depicting human emotion.

My Rating: *****

Primary Colors

With all the sheer insanity of this current election, one starts to wonder if this was always the case. Are most if not all political campaigns this bloodthirsty? Granted, fiction often satirizes what happens in the world of politics (i.e., The Thick of It, Veep) but sometimes life itself inspires fiction.

Such is the case with Mike Nichols' Primary Colors. With Jack (John Travolta) and Susan Stanton (Emma Thompson) being obviously based on Bill and Hillary Clinton -- Jack more so -- it's safe to say that it caused a bit of controversy upon its release. (Details of the Lewinsky affair were emerging at the time.)

Of course considering this current election, Primary Colors shines in a different light. Elements of both the film and the election eerily parallel one another, almost to a point that it seems Nichols and Elaine May foretold the future. But the film's more than a thinly-veiled exposé.

As expected from a Nichols production, the acting is top-notch. Each actor brings their A-game to their performances, no matter the size of the role. The one that stands out from them all is Kathy Bates, the lone actor to receive an Oscar nomination for Primary Colors. (And it doesn't take much to see why.)

Primary Colors is one of several politically-themed films that depicts a world of backstabbing and sabotage to further their own careers. But Nichols and May satirize such matters to make it accessible to those with a faint grasp of politics. After all, isn't it a subject that next to everyone is sick and tired of?

My Rating: ****1/2

Barcelona

Do we really know what we want in our lives? Are we truly content with the jobs we have and the people we know? If not, we're not being forced to live such a life.

Whit Stillman's Barcelona explores such a topic within a Cold War setting. As he did with his previous film Metropolitan, Stillman chronicles those disillusioned by what's expected of their generation. And boy, are they jaded as a result.

Stillman recruits Taylor Nichols and Chris Eigeman again for Barcelona in roles similar to those in Metropolitan (Nichols the nebbish outsider, Eigeman the know-nothing know-it-all). Though here there's some more depth to their characters. (Similarly, Stillman seems to have a faint grasp on how to write female characters.)

Throughout Barcelona there's a clash of cultures between the lead characters and their setting. (Eigeman at one point tries to correct street graffiti with a pen.) They try to fit in but all they mostly succeed in doing is sticking out like sore thumbs. (Such an example happens at one of the parties they attend.)

Barcelona doesn't have the same spark as Metropolitan but it has its charms as well. Nichols and Eigeman's performances further proved what the world of cinema would further expect from Stillman: commentary on the changing jaded society we're a part of. (And that's not something that'll go away anytime in the near future.)

My Rating: ****

Clueless

Apparently the 1990s saw a number of re-tellings of classic literature. Dangerous Liaisons became Cruel Intentions, The Taming of the Shrew was turned into 10 Things I Hate About You, and Richard III was moved to 1930s Britain. But it wasn't just long-dead male authors who were subjected to this treatment.

Jane Austen's Emma got turned into Amy Heckerling's Clueless and even with nearly two hundred years between the two works, it surprisingly works well. Granted, it hasn't entirely well in the twenty-one years of its existence but the film still has its charms. (What else does one expect from a title that influenced the remainder of the 1990s?)

It's not likely that Austen would've approved of her satire being moved to Beverly Hills and having its protagonist be a touch more self-centered than what Emma Woodhouse was initially. Still, Cher Horowitz (Alicia Silverstone) keeps her wits about her and like Emma, she gets a little too involved in her matchmaking. (See? This sort of thing existed before internet culture.)

Though it may have been fine back in 1995, there are some aspects of Clueless that may not work as well nowadays. At one point, Cher tries to pursue a guy who's not interested in her in that way. (One's identity is not a punchline!) And then there's Tai Frasier (Brittany Murphy) talking about a near-death experience...

Clueless is cute, no denying that. And intentional or not, it shows its age a lot. (And the final third is kinda creepy.) At least it's funny enough to make it passable (even if it is grating in spots).

My Rating: ***1/2

Carrington

"Who on earth is that ravishing boy?" This question escapes Lytton Strachey's (Jonathan Pryce) lips upon first laying eyes on Dora Carrington (Emma Thompson). (He's quickly disappointed.) Carrington (which she prefers to be referred as) herself laments about being a woman. What follows in Christopher Hampton's Carrington is a true story of deep devotion.

Carrington is a love story of the non-physical variety. (Strachey was gay and there were implications that Carrington was bisexual or even a lesbian.) Incompatible sexual orientations aside, the writer and the painter had a bond that transcended friendship. (See? Such a thing does exist.)

While Strachey's work was known during his lifetime, Carrington -- much like Vincent van Gogh before her -- became prominent in the years after her death. But their success isn't the whole point of the film. What mattered more to them was the other's well-being.

Also shown throughout Carrington are the sexual politics of the time. Both Strachey and Carrington were members of the Bloomsbury Group (it's briefly alluded to at the beginning of the film), which rejected the social norms of the Victorian era. They were part of a group that influenced the rest of society.

Carrington focuses on two forgotten names of British culture, and Hampton has them come alive again decades after their deaths. The performances from Thompson and Pryce show the dynamic between this odd couple and how their lives became interwoven. It's a bond that stays united in this life and the next.

My Rating: ****1/2

Metropolitan

Frequently one's debut provides insight into what to expect from potential future works. Whether it's a recurring theme or a character type, it tends to establish the creator's sense of, well, creativity.

In regards with Whit Stillman's Metropolitan, it captures the difference in class and how they're perceived by the varying classes. (Basically it's The Great Gatsby in the era of yuppies.) Sure, it might sound borderline obnoxious but Stillman ensures that it isn't.

Within the small soirees of the Sally Fowler Rat Pack, Metropolitan depicts a group of people disillusioned by their own generation. (Hey, it's not just with this generation.) Bearing the weight of the previous one, they struggle to make names for themselves. (Who would've thought Stillman managed to foretell the millennials?)

As well as being a (then) contemporary version of The Great Gatsby, Metropolitan also has Jane Austen as an influence. The views on society, the varying romantic entanglements, how women are perceived...all are aspects commonly found in the author's works. (Apparently she left enough of an impact on Stillman for him to adapt one of her works twenty-six years later.)

Metropolitan may not be everyone's cup of tea (there are some moments reminiscent of your average Noah Baumbach film) but Stillman makes sure all of its 98 minutes work. (They do.) Now to see if his later films meet the same caliber...

My Rating: ****