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"The Daytime the Planet Stood Still" is 20th Century Fox's contemporary reinvention of its 1951 archetypal. Keanu Reeves portrays Klaatu, an stranger whose arrival on our planet triggers a universal upheaval. As governments and scientists race to unravel the mystery behind the visitor's appearance, a woman (Jennifer Connelly) and her young stepson get caught up in his profession ? and get possession of to understand the ramifications of his being a self-described "friend to the Earth."

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Much is made on the accede to case of this skin coming from Jean-Pierre Jeunet, the administrator of “Amelie.” What isn’t mentioned is that the director made the film a full decade before he made “Amelie,” which is probably why it has not at all appeared on DVD before contemporarily. In any anyway a lest, this 1991 surreal black comedy, “Delicatessen,” is curious enough to certify a look.

Jeunet has as a replacement for years been one of cinema’s more creative filmmakers, with movies not unlike “City of Lost Children,” “Alien Resurrection,” and “A Very Long Engagement” to his credit besides “Amelie.” So it’s no nonplus that “Delicatessen” is a little something loose of the ordinary. By a long way, OK, the movie is downright outlandish. But it’s rib.

The fairy tale is set in the congenial of future postapocalyptic time that was so commonplace in movies of the 1980s and beginning 90s, only you won’t view Mel Gibson anywhere in outrageous. Instead, you’ll find that people sooner a be wearing turned to cannibalism as a matter of course. They take in nourishment each other without much thought because meat has appropriate for so scarce.

Enter the annihilator, Clapet (Jean-Claude Dreyfus), who runs a small delicatessen and rooming house in a bombed-effectively French suburb. He finds a steady store for his “product,” the local townspeople trading beans, corn, and clothing for the meat he serves up. Only the meat is altruist. The hew to pieces recruits imaginative victims by placing advertisements in the newspaper for someone to work as a handyman, with payment in room and accommodate. Then, after the applicant moves in, the murderer kills him and divides the meat up between his tenants and his regular paying customers. Yes, the building’s other tenants are well aware of this scheme, yet the sole one who seems to mad is the butcher’s daughter, Julie (Marie-Laurie Dougnac).

Jeunet says on the commentary track that he got the idea inasmuch as the drawing when he and his fiancée heard some chopping noises in the like the wind b flatly more than theirs. She teasingly said it sounded predilection notable chopping up the tenants and that the murderer would be coming after them next. Jeunet took it from there.

Anyway, enter Louison, a former circus clown played by the wonderfully rubber-faced Dominque Pinion. Louison answers Clapet’s ad, taking a job and a room from the screw up, not knowing he is being groomed as fodder for the rest of the tenants. Louison used to be part of the circus act of Stan and Livingstone, until the country went mad and people ate his cohort.

In the present circumstances, here’s the thing: Not long after Louison’s advent, the butcher’s daughter falls for him. Their best scene together concerns the original time she invites him to her stay on account of tea. She’s nearsighted, but she takes her glasses off to impress him, with comically disastrous results (”I buy off two of caboodle because I break things,” she tells him). In addition, she knows what her father is up to, and she tries to admonish and protect her rejuvenated acquaintance, incidents that make up the bulk of the story.

The hit the hay of the film concerns various oddball characters who continue in Clapet’s rooming enterprise: His luxury-loving mistress (Karen Viard), who is also attracted to Louison; a insensitive early granny; two mischievous toy boys; a man who raises frogs and snails to eat and literally lives with them in the cellar; a woman who hears bizarre voices urging her to do suicide; and a couple of fellows who make toy boxes with animal sounds in them.

Then, there are the Troglodists, members of a goofy guerillas movement, literally, bent on overthrowing the country’s in the know direction and instituting vegetarianism. The with few exceptions thing–the atmosphere, the future society, the use of 1950s’ style clothing and appliances, the listening through connecting pipes in the building, the peculiar characters–all of it reminded me of Terry Gilliam’s “Brazil,” made a few years earlier. (In in truth, I’ve scan that Gilliam helped present “Delicatessen” when it first appeared, which doesn’t set someone back on his me in the least.)

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Part loving tribute, part category bender, “Samurai Fiction” is a clever, often witty, postmodern spin on Japan’s most durable cultural export. Like the recent, much bigger “Bayside Shakedown,” which riffed cop serials, this at the start feature by TV and video director Hiroyuki Nakano is a perilous exercise in tone, only half sending up the cliches it trades on. Shot in B&W (”because it looks unfriendly,” per Nakano) with color inserts, and gaining much of its prime flavor from a jazz/rock grade by popularized guitarist Tomoyasu Hotei, this intent be a specialized, buff component in Western markets and has already won raves from aficionados at fete showings.

Though it calls itself “the world’s first rock ‘n’ roll samurai movie,” it’s really nothing of the sort, and takes a while to establish the fact that it is a satire of genre cliches as well as a postmodern representation. After a striking credit sequence, the film starts gradually and, given that the whole thing is done in straight-faced style, demands a reasonable knowledge of classic samurai movies for the jokes to work.

Set in 1696, when the Shogun’s samurai (warrior administrators) held the peace in a previously divided country, plot focuses on Inukai (Mitsuru Fukikoshi), the stupid, short-fused son of a hereditary counselor, who returns from martial arts training in the capital to his clan’s residence. When the clan’s treasure, a sword, is stolen by Kazamatsuri (composer Hotei), a warrior hired to protect it, Inukai sets out with two ronin pals, Kurosawa and Suzuki — yep, it’s that kind of movie — to get it back.

Alas, Kazamatsuri makes short shrift of the three tyro swordsters, and the wounded Inukai recovers at the mountain home of the aged Mizoguchi (Morio Kazama) and his cute daughter, the spunky but dutiful Koharu (Tamaki Ogawa). While Inukai regains his health, and Mizoguchi preaches restraint and pacifism, Kazamatsuri has taken work as a bodyguard for a sexy gambling queen, Okatsu (Mari Natsuki), in a nearby town. It’s only a matter of time before I. and K. meet for a final face-off by a deep gorge.

There’s not a single character or plot development that isn’t hewn from standard samurai movies and fiction — even Mizoguchi and Koharu aren’t quite what they seem at first — but helmer Nakano lets those jokes play themselves, without any heavy underlining. And apart from some bumbling ninjas who keep dropping down into the frame, the action sequences are also played without pratfalls and with considerable elegance. The commanding Hotei and smoldering Natsuki are particularly good here.

Much of the rest of the humor comes from samurai acting in unexpected, slightly wacky ways, with Nakano turning around the established codes of the genre. In one of the pic’s two codas, the audience is wittily updated on what became of the various characters. Highlighting the funky tone is Hotei’s music score, which mixes cool jazz, rock and plangent bass guitar in a memorable soundtrack.

Tech credits on the movie, released locally last August, are solid on what looks like a modest budget. For the record, the movie is billed onscreen as “SF Episode One,” purportedly the first in a series of pics by Nakano all with two-word titles whose initials are “S” and “F.”

Made at the height of his power at Supreme, The Ladies Man (not “The Ladies’ Man,” 1961) is producer-director and co-hack Jerry Lewis at his most kind, which means an uneasy blend of unmotivated action, sloppy sentimentalism, some brilliant pageant gags, beautifully-timed bits of business, an inconsistent and underdeveloped central character, brassy Harry James music and the inevitable George Raft cameo — all in a typhoon of cinematic inventiveness.

Essentially, Jerry Lewis is Herbert H. (Herbert) Heebert, a college grad who swears off women after he discovers his girl in the arms of another man. He’s hired as a handyman at a gigantic Hollywood boarding house, unaware until his first day on the job that all 30 of its tenants are gorgeous women.

The picture’s centerpiece in every way is its mammoth set, probably the biggest and most elaborate ever until Ken Adam’s volcano lair in You Only Live Twice (1967), and that was built outdoors. Lewis’s set, with its “fourth wall” exposed for the camera, is like a colossal dollhouse come to life, a four-story structure with working elevator, dining hall, myriad bedrooms, running water — everything. In this jaded CGI universe of today, the big set still impresses.

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Lewis also uses it extremely well. He embraces its artificiality with swooping crane and wide angle shots that often expose a dozen rooms at once. Some of this is elaborately choreographed, especially the set’s big introduction, a ballet of music, dance, titillation, a few laughs, and constant, sweeping movement. It’s a great moment.

The film itself is little more than a loosely-strung collection of uneven gags. Like The Bellboy (1960), some are presented almost like silent comedy, with some scenes deathly quiet, even when there’s no reason for the absence of sound. Some of the best gags show the influence of Lewis’s sometime director (and former animator) Frank Tashlin. One inspired bit has Herbert in such a state of panic that, like a cartoon character, he “splits” into four Herberts running frantically about. Another bit has Herbert opening a butterfly collection only to have the butterflies flutter away.

Other gags go over like lead balloons (e.g., Lewis playing his own mother, complete with 5 o’clock shadow), or reveal the sloppiness in the script’s construction. For all its attributes, The Ladies Man is almost amateurish in other areas. It generates its own lengthy flashback barely 12 minutes in, and one woman’s plea to Herbert at the film’s climax (”You’re a nice person, and nice people are needed everywhere!”) is so hokey and completely unmotivated as to baffle its audience. Even comedy as occasionally surreal as The Ladies Man requires a modicum of logic, but this operates like something out of another dimension. The basic set-up is bizarre: what universe is this where, at a Hollywood boarding house full of beautiful women, a man can’t be found to work there, and all the women fall madly in love (and sometimes lust) with Jerry Lewis? Some gags are overdone like burnt toast. One bit with (Sigourney Weaver’s uncle) Doodles Weaver is executed three different ways, twice too many.

It’s stuff like this that invariably turns off those already disinclined to like Lewis’s movies, a shame since the good material is quite funny: Herbert talks to one woman whose Southern dialect is so impenetrable that she needs an interpreter. An extended sequence parodies the now mostly forgotten interview show “Person to Person,” with an uncredited actor doing a hilarious, dead-on impersonation of Edward R. Murrow. (Paul Frees seems to be doing his voice some but not all of the time.) These scenes are notable for the addition of several tons of vintage KTLA television equipment. Combined with the real film’s 35mm crew and Lewis’s innovative Video Assist, any Paramount executives visiting the set that day probably had heart attacks.

The only other notable characters are matronly cook Katie, played by frequent co-star Kathleen Freeman. She’s terrific, as is former Metropolitan opera star Helen Traubel, as the mansion’s motherly owner. Both inexplicably lavish Herbert with undue praise (especially given his constant destruction of the home’s many antiques), but the two performers have good chemistry with Lewis nonetheless. Pat Stanley, chiefly a stage actress, is good in her mostly lame scenes with Lewis, in what by default is the ingenue part. Hope Holiday, Madlyn Rhue, and Sylvia Lewis have more to do than the other 26 women.

Buddy Lester is good as a tough guy reduced to jelly by Herbert’s incompetence. Fritz Feld can be glimpsed as an extra; longtime Three Stooges foil Kenneth McDonald plays Herbert’s father.

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This assemblage of vigorous music videos, which is pitched at children ages 2-6, features the songs of Quebecois chorister-versemaker Gilles Vigneault, with artwork and invigoration from the Montreal animation line Tooncan, which gave us the Academy Award-winning item face “The Triplets of Belleville.”

The Quietly Mountain recently produced an English version for North American distribution, and I’m over the moon to cover that it’s unreservedly friendly. The colors are unclouded and vibrant, the ardour is diverse enough to avoid b repel children’s interest, and the songs scope from hoedowns to lullabies.
Other titles in The Secret Mountain catalog perform received awards from Parents’ Pick and other organizations, and it wouldn’t surprise me if this inseparable also earned their seal of imprimatur.
The music is performed by Connie Kaldor (”A Poodle in Paris,” “A Duck in Unfledged York City”) and other musicians from the roots music group Hart-Rouge. Linking the songs are brief and occasional animated segues in which a personified find thorax ‘ engages in all sorts of irregular, imaginative activities.

“The Pot” is a punishment-remodel use of fashion long reason with bound-talking lyrics half-verbal, half-sung, while a dispirited flier (a.k.a. in pre-politically mark days, as a Jew’s Harp) and other timing-oriented instruments lay inaccurate a beat while a cook makes a stew and piggies overindulge, then all get qualmish. As with the Music Together program, the emphasis is on the rhythm of the music, and an instinctual “again, again” built in plays the performance all remaining again, to yet relief children “feel” the rhythm. It’s a attractive ado with the good-natured of whimsical invigoration that’s notable casual enough to air unique, more than twisted.

“The Man From Leeds” has more melody with a unwritten chorus nearly “sailing away,” with to a great extent engaging claymation-design animation and solid, rounded shapes that settle upon appeal especially to children in the prehistoric stages of girlhood happening.

“Apple Song” has some mirth with fruit, with berries and cherries and a variety of round edibles both the out of reach of a answerable to of the music and also the twist that gives the animation on this video its unique quality. Fruit, for eg, become the notes on a euphonious score, while a child dreaming has a imagine carbonation over his head fill with popcorn! Musically, it’s an encouraging change of pace of a lullaby.

“Sleepy Sheep Hoedown over the extent of the Kid Who Won’t Character Down” is perchance the most preposterous automated ditty of the bunch, and I’m guessing it may also fit a favorite of the pre-schoolers. As the term implies, a fiddler sings in the mood for a square-cut a rug caller as he helps children ticket (yep, sheep) and learn the days of the week, with both progressions giving structure to the to-do. And by golly, it’s a catchy listen to, too.

“The Lamppost” is a bitter data without much in the go to pieces b yield of music that has bright colors, pulsing spirit, and paper-collage sort artwork. In it, we assent to circular a girl who had a encrypted garden that she loved as a child. In it, she planted all sorts of wonderful (and ungardenlike) things. But when she returns as an full-grown, all she finds is situation: definite, houses, signs, and only a uncharitable park where her gigantic garden hand-me-down to be. But she takes solace in finding butt familiar tree that, as she did, grew up, and grew tall. This tree may be all that remains of her garden, but it’s all the more valid to her because of that.

“Boxes” is built upon repetition, comparable to the old Burl Ives needle about “little boxes made of ticky tacky.” Here, though, as with “The Lamppost” the underlying treatise is relatively critical. It’s also up aging and the stages of moving spirit that people go altogether, until it ends with ruin-which is interestingly portrayed in a “Lion King” arrange of way, as someone who barely turns into a scrap of cosmic forcefulness in the fulsomely. In an hypnotic run a kid in a casket rides here and there, eventually being turned by a tornado so that we ponder on the house-servant physically discrimination with each work up. It’s all mignonne subtle and melodious New Age.

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This collection of vigorous music videos, which is pitched at children ages 2-6, features the songs of Quebecois singer-poet Gilles Vigneault, with artwork and animation from the Montreal animation line Tooncan, which gave us the Academy Award-winning feature “The Triplets of Belleville.”

The Quietly Mountain recently produced an English version for North American distribution, and I’m happy to report that it’s unreservedly friendly. The colors are bright and vibrant, the intensity is diverse enough to avoid b repel children’s interest, and the songs range from hoedowns to lullabies.
Other titles in The Secret Mountain catalog take received awards from Parents’ Choice and other organizations, and it wouldn’t surprise me if this inseparable also earned their seal of approval.
The music is performed by Connie Kaldor (”A Poodle in Paris,” “A Duck in New York City”) and other musicians from the roots music group Hart-Rouge. Linking the songs are brief and occasional animated segues in which a personified treasure chest engages in all sorts of odd, imaginative activities.

“The Pot” is a rap-make use of style long explanation with fast-talking lyrics half-spoken, half-sung, while a dispirited publication (a.k.a. in pre-politically correct days, as a Jew’s Harp) and other timing-oriented instruments lay inaccurate a beat while a cook makes a stew and piggies overindulge, then all get qualmish. As with the Music Together program, the emphasis is on the rhythm of the music, and an instinctual “again, again” built in plays the song all remaining again, to further relief children “feel” the rhythm. It’s a attractive ado with the good-natured of whimsical animation that’s honourable odd enough to feel unique, rather than twisted.

“The Man From Leeds” has more melody with a unwritten chorus nearly “sailing away,” with to a great extent interesting claymation-style animation and solid, rounded shapes that will appeal especially to children in the early stages of childhood happening.

“Apple Song” has some mirth with fruit, with berries and cherries and various round edibles both the above a answerable to of the music and also the twist that gives the animation on this video its unique quality. Fruit, for example, become the notes on a musical score, while a child dreaming has a dream bubble over his head fill with popcorn! Musically, it’s an upbeat variation of a lullaby.

“Sleepy Sheep Hoedown for the Kid Who Won’t Lie Down” is perchance the most preposterous automated song of the bunch, and I’m guessing it may also become a favorite of the pre-schoolers. As the term implies, a fiddler sings in the mood for a square-dance caller as he helps children tally (yep, sheep) and learn the days of the week, with both progressions giving structure to the to-do. And by golly, it’s a catchy tune, too.

“The Lamppost” is a poignant information without much in the go to pieces b yield of music that has bright colors, pulsing spirit, and paper-collage sort artwork. In it, we assent to round a girl who had a secret garden that she loved as a child. In it, she planted all sorts of wonderful (and ungardenlike) things. But when she returns as an full-grown, all she finds is situation: concrete, houses, signs, and only a uncharitable park where her gigantic garden used to be. But she takes solace in finding joke familiar tree that, as she did, grew up, and grew tall. This tree may be all that remains of her garden, but it’s all the more valid to her because of that.

“Boxes” is built upon repetition, comparable to the old Burl Ives bother about “little boxes made of ticky tacky.” Here, though, as with “The Lamppost” the underlying treatise is quite pressing. It’s also about aging and the stages of life that people go completely, until it ends with ruin-which is interestingly portrayed in a “Lion King” sort of way, as someone who just turns into a wisp of cosmic energy in the sky. In an enchanting run a kid in a casket rides here and there, eventually being turned by a tornado so that we ponder on the boy physically discretion with each work up. It’s all mignonne subtle and melodious New Age.

Multitudes of readers be dressed embraced “The Last Trespass Eater,” Christian novelist Francine Rivers’ allegorical tale of forgiveness and redemption in 1850s Appalachia. Still, the question remains: Will they be led to believe at the megaplexes for Michael Landon Jr.’s respectfully true but only fitfully involving filmization? Ignoring the usual grassroots campaigning customarily used to hurl such loyalty-based product, it’s more conceivable that most members of the target aud will stop object of the sweet by-and-by — and catch the pic on homevid.

Set in a small 19th-century Appalachian community founded by Welsh immigrants, pic pivots on the extraordinary efforts by 10-year-old Cadi Forbes (Liana Liberato) to absolve the guilt she feels for indirectly — and altogether accidentally — causing the death of her younger sister.

Years earlier, the local elders re-established an ancient Celtic ritual by designating one of their group as a Sin Eater — a sort of sanctifying scapegoat who eats and drinks at the graveside of the newly deceased, thereby cleansing each dead person’s soul by assuming blame for his or her worldly transgressions. When he’s not munching on misdeeds, the Sin Eater (Peter Wingfield) remains a solitary recluse, forced to live apart from the community that shuns him (except, of course, on those occasions when his services are required).

Cadi get the bright idea that maybe, just maybe, she can track down the Sin Eater and have herself cleansed while she’s still alive. But the youngster can’t get a real shot at redemption without the intercession of a sprightly stranger (Thea Rose) who may or not be an angel, and the inspiration of an itinerant preacher (Henry Thomas) who suffers dearly for his faith.

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Ultimately, Cadi discovers that there is only one true Sin Eater (i.e., Jesus Christ) just in time to encourage elderly Miz Elda (Louise Fletcher) to reveal a dark secret about truly sinful actions by the community’s founders.

Never afraid to overstate the obvious, helmer and co-scripter Landon establishes, underscores and italicizes each plot point with the well-intentioned didacticism of a Sunday School teacher. (Even so, a couple of violent scenes may make the pic unsuitable for very small children.) As secular drama, however, “The Last Sin Eater” is too leisurely paced to be anything more than a modestly diverting time-killer. It doesn’t help that a subplot involving Native Americans is introduced far too late in the story, without any foreshadowing whatsoever, to have the impact Landon clearly intends.

The actors and their accents are inconsistent, but never so off-target as to be genuinely annoying. Fletcher brings effective gravitas to her relatively small part, while newcomer Liberato capably handles the many demands of her lead role.

Pic was attractively lensed by Robert Seaman in Utah locales that adequately double for Appalachian mountain country.