Wonderland (15) IFC, Dublin
An intimate and enthralling picture of three generations in one London family, Wonderland is packed with incident and directed with an infectious energy by Michael Winterbottom as it weaves together the inter-connected experiences of 13 principal characters over four November days in London, a city which registers strongly as a character within the narrative.
The focus is on the three daughters in the family: Debbie (Shirley Henderson), the eldest, who has a nine-year-old son and is separated from her husband (Ian Hart); Molly (Molly Parker), the youngest, who is about to give birth to her first child; and Nadia (Gina McKee), who has resorted to looking for love in the lonely hearts columns. Meanwhile, the marriage of their parents (Jack Shepherd and Kika Markham) has long lost the love which once existed.
The screenplay by Laurence Coriat, a Frenchwoman who has lived in London for most of the past two decades, is succinct and insightful, and goes on to deal with the themes of big city loneliness, professional dissatisfaction, random violence and communication breakdown. Wonderland deftly juggles its multiple characters as skilfully as Short Cuts and Happiness did, and all of the interlinked scenarios mesh beautifully on the fourth day and offer some surprising revelations - and an essentially optimistic outlook.
Winterbottom opted to shoot the movie with a minimal crew and a hand-held camera, and without lights or extras, achieving a grainy look which heightens the grittiness of the images and the authenticity of its London locations and backgrounds.
This cherishable film marks yet another highly impressive achievement from the remarkably prolific and versatile Winterbottom, whose varied work has embraced the Bosnian conflict in Welcome to Sarajevo, Dublin working-class life in Roddy Doyle's Family and a profoundly moving Thomas Hardy adaptation in Jude. Accompanied by a gorgeous Michael Nyman score, Wonder- land draws vivid, credible performances from an astutely chosen cast in which the Canadian actress, Molly Parker (from Kissed) and the remarkably subtle and expressive Gina McKee are outstanding, and that strong cast also features John Simm, Stuart Townsend, Enzo Cilenti, SarahJane Potts and child actor Peter Marfleet.
By Michael Dwyer
Limbo (15) Selected cinemas
The American maverick writer-director, John Sayles, takes his three principal characters on a journey of self-discovery in Limbo, which is set in Alaska and brings together a former fisherman, Joe (David Strathairn) who's still guilt-ridden after a fatal boating accident 25 years earlier; a nomadic bar-room singer, Donna (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio), who's lurching from one unhappy affair to another; and her disaffected teenage daughter, Noelle (Vanessa Martinez).
Sayles sets their story against the background of the Alaskan town of Juneau, which had been a gold mining centre in the 19th century and now derives its primary source of income from tourism. The theme of corporate greed and corruption, a recurring motif in John Sayles's work, is expressed in the form of avaricious businessmen intent on transforming Alaska into "one big theme park", with all the environmental and social upheaval that entails. The landscape is captured in all its ruggedness and power by the superb American cinematographer, Haskell Wexler.
Sayles's 12th film - his 11th, Men With Guns, was passed over for cinema release here - Limbo is his seventh movie to feature David Strathairn, an actor who establishes his presence with apparent effortlessness and precisely catches the melancholy and disappointment gnawing at the soul of his character. Newcomer Vanessa Martinez displays a natural, sparky quality as the bright, clear-headed Noelle, and the solid cast also includes Kris Kristofferson and Casey Siesmasko.
However, the heart of the film is the radiant performance by Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, who has rarely been so affecting than in her compelling portrayal of the complex, strong-willed Donna - and she also reveals a fine singing voice in this moody, involving drama.
At one point Sayles abruptly steers the film off on to an entirely unexpected course and on towards a risk-taking and ambiguous narrative turn in which the meaning of its title becomes clear. It's a daring twist which is as likely to alienate some viewers as it will have others engrossed in discussing and analysing it afterwards.
By Michael Dwyer
Music of the Heart, (PG) Selected cinemas
Sometimes it's better if filmmakers don't take themselves too seriously - just look at what's happened to Jonathan Demme lately. Wes Craven was never as classy a director as Demme, but he has been one of the most imaginative practitioners of the most derided genre of all, horror. Unfortunately, the commercial success of his last two films, Scream and Scream 2, has allowed him to make a belated move into "proper" movie-making with this lengthy biopic based on the true story of inner-city music teacher Roberta Guaspari. The slushy, mushy melodrama that results suggests that Craven would be better off returning to what he knows and does best.
Music of the Heart has all the resonance of a rather uninspired TV movie-of-the-week, despite the presence of Meryl Streep in the central role - or maybe because of it. Of course, Streep delivers a competent performance as Guaspari, a divorced, middleclass housewife who decides to take up a job teaching violin in a deprived East Harlem school. But we've seen her tackle this sort of part before - too many times, perhaps - and there's something increasingly uninteresting about the way she Streep-ises her characters. One can't help wishing, heretically, that Madonna (the original choice) had taken the role - at least she might have done something unpredictable.
To be fair, Streep is not helped by Pamela Gray's one-dimensional, episodic screenplay, which never builds up any dramatic tension, or by Craven's surprisingly flat direction, culminating in a climactic, star-studded concert at Carnegie Hall which manages to be both drab and embarrassing. The whole thing screams of "vanity project" -- a bone thrown to Craven by Miramax, for whom he has made so much money. What's surprising is that Craven seems to have left all his wicked humour and technical virtuosity at the door when embarking on this project. Not to mention his brevity - Music of the Heart weighs in at a wearying 130 minutes.
By Hugh Linehan
Stigmata (18) General release
Shortly before playing Satan in the current release End of Days, Gabriel Byrne was cast as a Vatican priest who investigates miracles in the hi-tech contemporary horror movie, Stigmata. Jonathan Pryce plays the shifty cardinal who sends the deadpan Byrne's character, Fr Andrew Kernan, to the US to investigate the case of a fun-loving Pittsburgh hairdresser, Frankie Paige (Patricia Arquette) who cannot understand what is causing shocking wounds to her hands and body.
These stigmata are triggered off, the film suggests, by Frankie's mother sending her a set of rosary beads from Brazil; an agnostic, Frankie thinks it's a necklace. An extremely loud bird somehow enters her bathroom while she's soaking in the tub and as the score by Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan thunders on the soundtrack, she loses control of her body and her wrists bleed profusely. Worse is to follow as the movie piles on its crucifixion imagery with the embellishment of elaborate special effects.
There is some throwaway humour, as when the white-collared Fr Kernan first calls on Frankie in her salon and she asks if he wants a cut, a manicure or to have his nipples pierced. When he explains that stigmata are regarded by the Church as a gift from God, she asks if she can give it back.
Unfortunately, the screenplay sinks into mumbo-jumbo as Frankie suddenly becomes alarmingly fluent in ancient Aramaic and the hokum quotient rises. The more convoluted the movie turns, the more risible it gets. It is sleekly directed in a succession of glossy visuals by Rupert Wainwright, an award-winning director of commercials and music videos. Incidentally, the screenwriter who devised the story is named Tom Lazarus.
By Michael Dwyer
Bicentennial Man (12) General release
As if Music of the Heart didn't provide more than enough sugary schmaltz for one week, this sci-fi weepie, based on an Isaac Asimov short story, should carry a warning about tooth decay. No surprise really, as it's only the latest in a seemingly unstoppable flow of narcissistic Robin Williams movies. In this one Williams plays Andrew, a brand-new robot delivered to a wealthy family "in the near future". A design flaw causes Andrew to show some signs of independent, creative thought, which leads his owner (Sam Neill) to encourage him to develop his creative impulses. This starts a lengthy process - a mere 200 years in the story, although it feels like an eternity for the hapless viewer - in which Williams evolves from a domestic appliance into, well, Robin Williams. Whether this can be regarded as progress is a moot point.
Under the direction of Christopher Columbus, whose previous efforts include last year's execrable Stepmom, the wince-making Nine Months and the inexplicably popular Mrs Doubtfire, this pofaced gibberish purports to reflect on mortality, free will and what it means to be human. In fact, you'd find more depth in a Boyzone lyric, and the experience would be considerably shorter.
By Hugh Linehan
