I used to have arguments with people at work over whether "American Beauty" is a movie primarily for guys. It is told, after all, strictly from a man's perspective -- Lester Burnham's, namely, since after all, he is dead and presumably all knowing. Maybe that is why Caroline Burnham is portrayed as such a shrew, and why virtually everyone else in the picture is viewed with such cold-hearted negativity -- including the children. That is how Lester experienced them, or imagined himself experiencing them. So, from his rather narrow point of view, the portrayals do make sense.

Such arguments are irrelevent, but they do make a point: "American Beauty" is a film you can't help but talk about and play over and over in your mind. For a while there back in 1999, I had the dazzling idea that movies were going to actually get better ... only to see an endless supply of greedy sequels pile into the multiplexes, making a film like "American Beauty" all the more rare and, well, beautiful.

People who complain about the movie's subject matter, about its language and sexuality, who actually walked out of the theater ... well, all I can say is, they should figure out in advance what a movie is about and decide beforehand whether it's something they want to pay to see. The only movie I ever walked out of was "Battlefield Earth," and only because it was stupid to the point of mental paralysis. "American Beauty" may make you angry, but it is not stupid, or dirty, or vulgar. That some people found it shocking may say more about them than about the quality of the movie.

First and foremost, "American Beauty" is a comedy, and one of the blackest since, I dunno, "Dr. Strangelove," or maybe "MASH." It is like a television sitcom pushed to the edge of nightmare, with the classical sitcom "dad" (Kevin Spacey) waking up to a new life and realizing that he's surrounded not just by boring, uninteresting people, but crazy, selfish, materialistic people. He realizes he doesn't really know his wife and that they should rekindle what they had before Grown Up Life intruded. He realizes he hasn't been communicating with his self-absorbed daughter, and that although he should do something about it, he doesn't quite know what. He realizes he had a lot more fun when he was a kid. He realizes his job sucks. And he realizes that he is, indeed, a sexual creature, though the object of his obsession (Mena Suvari, wonderful) makes him more of a pervert than a stud.

The movie is a dark, nighttime journey through Lester's mind, and though it expands to include the next-door neighbors and their troubled lives, it is truly limited to his perspective and is, in fact, about him and no one else. Yeah, his activities border on criminal, and no, you shouldn't really mix weight-lifting with dope smoking and beer guzzling, but he's burning off 20 wasted years, and he does finally come around at the end.

The supremely shocking thing is that Lester meets his ultimate fate just at the moment that he realizes life maybe ain't so bad, after all. He's robbed of his life just when he learns to appreciate it. How else to describe it, but as a cosmic jest at Lester's expense?

The movie is excellent on every level, from the tremendous performances to the fantastic screenplay to Sam Mendes' atmospheric direction. It is by turns hilariously funny and somberly dramatic. It is unpredictable and insightful about the way Americans live, a quality I cherish above any CGI effect you can imagine. That it is just a little cold, just a little austere, and just a little too pessimistic, is a flaw I'm willing to live with because othewise there is so much much to enjoy here. Was it honestly the best picture of a great year at the movies, a year that saw the release of "Magnolia," "The Green Mile," "Eyes Wide Shut" and "Fight Club"? Yeah. It was.

You got your "Toy Story." You got your "Finding Nemo." You got your "Shrek." You got your "Spirited Away." Those are all great animated family films. You've got "Aladdin," "Snow White," "Bambi," "The Little Mermaid," and "Pinocchio." But "The Lion King," in my opinion, is the greatest of all.

I have loved this movie for going on 10 years now, and I'm not even a fan of Elton John. It's my equivalent of "Bambi," a Disney cartoon I didn't exactly grow up with. "The Lion King" proceeds along similar lines and serves much the same purpose: to show kids maybe a darker side of life, to inspire thought and conversation on a level that is elevated above Robin Williams' antics as the Genie. Here is an edgy, intelligent, grown-up cartoon that, yes, children can and do enjoy.

I got to experience this movie "through the eyes" of my daughter, and it's a film that has stayed with me ever since. The DVD release is much appreciated -- it has been a long wait. I am happy to report that the original theatrical version of the film looks absolutely spectacular on DVD. The colors are sharper and clearer, the picture is obviously much sharper, the sound quality has been vastly improved ... it's a glorious viewing experience. And the director/producer commentary track is insightful and entertaining. I haven't pored over the additional materials on the set, but I bought the DVD for the movie itself, and on that level alone, I am pleased.

For me, "The Lion King" is one of the greatest examples of cinematic storytelling ever made. And what a story, the archetypal representation of the classic hero (Simba) who, through trial and tribulation, finds redemption and atonement after suffering much guilt over the death of his father. Kids can enjoy the music, the humor, the vivid cartoon characters and the action, but I think the symbolic imagery of this film is what affects so many adults. If you think it was an accident that the movie plays like a cross between "Bambi" and "Hamlet," you're wrong -- the filmmakers very much knew what they were doing.

Aside from all that, you can't beat "The Lion King" for sheer entertainment. Ten years later, it's still the best. The characters are still lovable, imaginative and captivating. The sets and special effects are still awesome. The wildebeast stampede is still thrilling. The death of Mufasa is still terribly sad. "Hakuna Matata" is still hilarious. Scar is still a terrifying and repulsive villain. Nathan Lane's performance as Timon is still a comedy classic. The dialogue still rings true. And so forth and so on. Talk about a movie that hasn't aged a day.

(Well ... ok. I'm not a big fan of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight." Hey, nothing's perfect.)

"The Lion King" deserved at the very least an Oscar nomination for Best Picture -- hands down, for my money, it's better than "Beauty and the Beast," which I admit is a terrific movie. People who think this movie is "too violent" or "not for kids" should rethink their position. This movie is for everyone, precisely because it challenges our notion of what "should" and "shouldn't" be in a cartoon.

Long story short: this is the "Citizen Kane" of animated films. Now, go forth, and enjoy the DVD.

Mel Gibson's "Braveheart" is a thundering, full-blooded epic that, I think, will rise above even its hardiest detractors to rank among some of the greatest biopics in movie history (and here I'm thinking "Lawrence of Arabia" and "Patton," which I'm sure were on Gibson's mind when he made this picture).

Is this movie a true-to-life portrait of the real William Wallace? I doubt it, and Mel Gibson pretty well admits that it isn't, but who cares? Ships make no sound in the vastness of space, but that doesn't stop us from enjoying (and buying into) "Star Wars." If I'm going to give William Wallace and what he stood for (maybe) any serious thought at all, it's going to be precisely in the context of a movie like this.

What really shines through, especially after repeated viewings, is Gibson's absolute passion for the art and craft of filmmaking. "Braveheart" crackles with excitement, texture, energy, feeling. It hardly feels like a three-hour film; we are so consumed with William Wallace's bloody quest to rid Scotland of its "Anglish" possessors that we hardly even want the movie to end. By the end of my first viewing, I felt exhausted and more than a little awed by the lengths to which Gibson's character went to liberate his country. Today I'm just in awe of "Braveheart," period. The Academy obviously showed good sense (for a change) when it handed Gibson the top two awards for 1995.

Yeah, the movie is gruesome and violent, but all in the name of presenting its character in the boldest possible light: to portray Wallace as a larger-than-life hero whose local conflicts bestow upon him the mantle of international legend. (After all, didn't a certain country come along centuries later and take up a certain beef against the British in its pursuit of freedom?) Wallace, at least in the terms of this movie, was a true hero, dedicated to avenging the murder of his beloved wife and devoted to the liberty of his fellow countrymen. What a guy.

Gibson plays the lead with equal passion. Now here is an actor who knows how to play a mythical character in a film of undeniably huge scope. Unlike Russell Crowe's dour, dreary work in "Gladiator," Gibson plays Wallace with great humor and teeth-gnashing savagery. You feel every instant of Wallace's pain and share in his joy, thanks to Gibson's remarkable portrayal. Why he wasn't even nominated for Best Actor is beyond me. And by the way, in a fight, Wallace would rip the lungs out of Gen. Maximus inside of about two seconds.

Patrick McGoohan excels as the vile Longshanks, and Sophie Marceau provides much-needed feminine beauty as Wallace's French-born lover on the side of the English. There's also Brendan Gleeson as Wallace's childhood sidekick -- not that Wallace really needs one.

I could go on. You get the idea. "Braveheart" is a great film. I don't know who among you hasn't seen it by now. If you haven't, then do so immediately. Gibson will probably never be this good again.

For my box office money, Year 2000 was one of the worst ever, with a plethora of bloated, overlong, overrated flicks ("Gladiator," "Cast Away," "What Lies Beneath," "The Patriot," "Perfect Storm"). Though not by any means a great movie, "M:I-2" rises to the top of my memory almost by default. It's dumb, but at least it's fast and entertaining.

John Woo knows how to stage, direct and photograph action sequences, and it's a good thing his star, Tom Cruise, knows how to act in them and even how to perform many of his own stunts. "M:I-2" wisely conserves the wildest action for about the last 45 minutes, beginning with Cruise's daring penetration of a high-rise and ending with probably the longest fistfight sequence in history.

I didn't believe a minute of this silly, slick, superficial piece of eye candy. The good thing is, Woo and Cruise don't ask us to. They intend only to seduce us with surface level charm. They succeed, brilliantly. Here is an action movie that takes the effort to find poetry in its visuals, like the extended scene that introduces Cruise's affable spy, Ethan Hunt, to the femme fatale, Nyah, played fetchingly by the alluring Thandie Newton. It's a flirtatious dance with larceny at its core, taken to a new level by the mountaintop car chase, another dance that leads eventually to physical passion. We may not care about Ethan and Nyah, but wow, they look great together.

Much of "M:I-2" is over the top and ridiculous, and a lot of the dialogue is banal, taking us from Point A to Point B. But Woo finds all sorts of ways to make the movie interesting without dialogue. Maybe the best news of all is that this never, for a moment, feels like a sequel, thankfully because Cruise intends each entry in the franchise to feel like a brand-new, standalone film (never mind the numeral in the title). Think what Tarantino could do with this material.

"Think." Now there's a word you don't want anywhere near "M:I-2." At least this movie has the courage to live up to its own mindlessness. And I won't even gripe about the bad Anthony Hopkins performance. Are Cruise and Woo that good? Yep, they are.

That's how I would describe "Unforgiven" -- as hard as the title implies. It's a classic, no doubt, every bit as good as Eastwood's other great film, "The Outlaw Josey Wales," maybe a little better.

It's taken me years to fully appreciate the power and accomplishment of this movie. Eastwood himself refused to make it until after he'd reached a certain age, and it takes a certain level of maturity to accept that this movie HAS NO HEROES, that it is about death and dying, that it is about a way of life that has long vanished ... a way that, in the hardboiled view of this movie, wasn't all that great to begin with.

"Unforgiven" is one of the few successful films that has no sympathetic characters. Eastwood's William Munny is a criminal, a thug whose late-in-life recognition of his own dastardly deeds does not necessarily clear him of them (hence the title). His buddy, Ned Logan (Morgan Freeman) is no saint either, simply too old and guilt-ridden to live the outlaw life any longer. Likewise, the Schofield Kid (Jaimz Woolvett, and whatever happened to him?) is the cowboy equivalent of a punk, a gangsta wannabe with more mouth than guts (he's the only character in the movie to experience a moral revelation).

Which brings us to the "bad guy," Little Bill Daggett, played with clear-eyed hate by Gene Hackman. What a complex character. The guy just wants to build a house and watch the sunset over his coffee. He can't hammer two nails into a board. He wants law and order in his frontier town, and he'll get it if he has to beat a man to death. He's cowardly -- once he's disarmed a man and surrounded him with trigger-happy "deputies," then he lets fly with his fists -- but maybe he's just playing a dangerous game the smart way. And he is smart. Smarter than Will Munny, only not quite as lucky.

Let us not forget the prostitutes who set the plot in motion. Strawberry Alice seems to desire bloody revenge far more than Delilah, the girl whose face is slashed by the cowboys. All of the women in the film are hard, brutal, deceptive, obsessed with avenging themselves of the very livelihood that pays the bounty. Not a likeable or sympathetic character in the bunch.

Finally, there's English Bob (Richard Harris). Eastwood establishes that he's come to Big Whiskey for the bounty so subtly that, believe it or not, I missed it the first time I saw the movie. (Maybe it's a little too subtle -- no dialogue refers to his motivation.) English Bob gits the tar whupped out of him, but he's not a good guy, just a "living legend" whose legend has finally caught up with him.

There is a journey in the movie, but it's an anti-heroic journey with only one outcome: that Will Munny will actually lose his battle with his demons and commit murder in exchange for filthy lucre. (The character's name is not a coincidence.) Not exactly a healthy outlook on the human condition.

"Unforgiven" is what certain critics mean when they describe a movie as "dark," only here the description actually applies. It is dark, and it does not contain a glimmer of hope for anything or anyone. "Deserve's got nothing to do with it," Munny tells Little Bill. And yet everybody in the movie gets exactly what they deserve ... including Will Munny, who's left alone with the demons of his past.

The movie is great precisely because of its pessimism; I don't know another way to put it. It is the death of the Western; it is also sad and moving, physically beautiful and vividly acted. Ten years ago, I sorta kinda felt "Unforgiven" didn't deserve the Best Picture Oscar. Now I sorta kinda feel that it's too good for it.

OK, this movie isn't a religious experience or anything, though it came awfully close when I saw it back in '91. "Dances With Wolves" was, at that time, the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. Ever. Its leisurely pace, the subtitles, the wide-open spaces, the landscapes ... the physical aspects alone of this movie were enough to turn my head completely around. To say nothing of the score, the photography, the writing, the characters, the acting, and Kevin Costner's lovely, skillful, controlled direction. To me, it was the be-all, end-all.

I still love "Dances." Revisionists are now saying that Costner's great film is too slow, too self-important, too benign, too whatever. I'm not real big on the idea that there's this huge jealousy factor at work against Kevin Costner, but in this respect, I'd have to say that people just seem to have something against the man, and they seem to begrudge him even "Dances With Wolves."

No matter. This is one of the best movies of the 1990s (or, I guess, late 1980s). It was obviously inspired by the great epics of the past (not the least "Lawrence of Arabia") and paved the way for "Unforgiven" and "Braveheart." Costner stumbled with "The Postman," and has made more than his share of terrible movies, but he's got the goods as a director. "Dances With Wolves" will more than stand the test of time.

This is my favorite sports movie and, I think, Kevin Costner's best movie. (Well, he's also great in "Tin Cup," an underrated masterpiece.)

"Bull Durham" is vastly superior to the weepier "Field of Dreams" because it really is about baseball, not about some doofus who puts his family at risk in order to play catch with Daddy (I really hate that movie). Ron Shelton made "Bull Durham" for adults, not cringing inner children. It knows that sex and baseball make for a better mix than mysticism and baseball. That's why it is the better film.

What's not to love? Costner, loose and funny and supremely athletic, delivers his "beliefs" speech. Tim Robbins pitches wearing a garter belt. The "Bermuda Triangle" dialogue. The Walt Whitman seduction. The meeting on the mound. And Susan Sarandon. Yes, Susan Sarandon.

Great scenes: Crash Davis, introducing himself as the player to be named later. The coach, instructing his players on the basics of baseball. Crash telling the batter what pitch Nuke is going to throw. The two fight scenes. Crash's private note to Annie. And of course: the great "Martian conversation with a Fungo" scene.

What I'm saying is this: "Bull Durham" has great writing. Not just adequate writing that gets the plot from point A to point B, but beautiful, philosophical dialogue that establishes the personalities of the characters. You don't get that kind of writing today. It just rarely happens anymore.

"Jerry Maguire" and "Tin Cup" come close in the sports movie realm, but "Bull Durham" established the tradition, and it is still the best.

Some movies are intended as entertainment only, and "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" certainly fills that bill. It's a "Raiders of the Lost Ark"-style adventure movie, which means it has an old-school attitude toward physical stunts and special effects. It was made back before digital effects started replacing actors and sets, and today, in its wonderful new DVD incarnation, feels like a breath of fresh air. This isn't "Godfather II," but man, I love this movie.

People gripe about Costner's accent, or lack thereof. Get over it. He's a movie star here, coming off "Dances With Wolves" and "Field of Dreams." Robert De Niro might have done a wonderful British accent; he also probably would have wrecked the movie far worse than Costner is accused of doing. What this movie needed was a likable, positive, magnetic star in the lead role. Costner had the goods then, and I think he still does.

In addition to Morgan Freeman and the luminous Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio (whatever happened to her?), this version of "Robin Hood" has Alan Rickman, who's just a hoot as the Sheriff of Nottingham. I am willing to forgive his anachronistic behavior because he elevates the movie to another level of escapism, providing great fun and humor just when things might be getting a little too uppity with Costner's Robin of Locksley. Together, Costner and Rickman provide a contrast in showmanship that's just plain enjoyable to watch.

The action sequences are well-staged, energetic, quick, brutal, and (again) fun. And the production design is excellent -- grubby without looking cheap. A great-looking movie on the big screen that holds up well after all these years.

I'm pleased with the new 2-disc DVD. I bought it essentially for the commentary with Costner and director Reynolds; their remarks are almost as entertaining as the film itself. (I've listened to Costner on quite a few commentary tracks, and he's loose and candid, not just about his own work, but the Hollywood system in general. Wish he'd lay down one for a new "Waterworld" disc.)

My only complaint about the DVD is that the sound quality is sorely lacking; the dialogue tracks are muted and muddled, while the music drowns out everything else.

Is "Robin Hood" perfect? Nope. But you gotta accept each movie on its own terms, and for what it is, "Robin Hood" still rocks.

"Waterworld" opened in 1995 to a great deal of public curiosity, not over its quality as film, but over its budget. Widely publicized as the most expensive movie ever made, "Waterworld" was judged not by what was on the screen (which was a heck of a lot) but how much it cost to put it there.

Going on ten years later, my only question is, who cares how much it cost? No big Hollywood movie today is made for less than $100 million, and most of that goes to computer graphics designers. "Gladiator," for example, probably cost as much as "Waterworld" did, and 98 percent of it was digital. Kevin Reynolds and Kevin Costner, however, put real actors, real stunts, real sets and a real ocean in their film, and today it just feels more impressive than many contemporary films. In other words, time has been kinder to "Waterworld" than critics were in '95.

The movie is by no means a masterpiece. But don't be misled: it succeeds as an action-packed piece of entertainment, perfect for a slow night. Reynolds found interesting ways of shooting the action, and blends a lot of humor in with the bombast. He knew the whole thing was preposterous; how else to explain many of the bizarre sights and effects that are wall to wall in this movie? "Waterworld" is so weird that it's almost refreshing. How many current "blockbusters" can you say that about?

Costner took a lot of heat for this movie; I can't say that it was the smartest career move for him, though "Message in a Bottle" is by far worse. In going back and researching Joseph Campbell's ideas about the heroic myth, however, I realize that Costner's half-man/half-fish Mariner is a hero in the classic mode, on a quest for his own humanity and to (albeit inadvertantly) "save" mankind. Costner plays the role straight, with grim humor and palpable muscle, which is actually the right contrast for Reynolds' Spielberg-on-dope approach to the action.

There's a lot of fun stuff in this movie. I'm sure that most of what they spent ended up on film, and for me that's enough.

I hated "The Postman" when I saw it on opening day in 1997. Hated, hated, hated it. Couldn't forgive Costner for wasting my time with such a long and ridiculous movie. Spent years making fun of it, warning people away from it. Rooting for Costner to fail again. He had actually hurt my feelings. How could the man behind "Dances With Wolves" have unleashed such a dopey, awful, pretentious film? How could he do it to himself?

OK. I'm now older and I think a little wiser about film. I saw Costner sink to the depths of his career with that terrible Elvis impersonator flick and also "For Love of the Game." One night I saw "The Postman" in the cheap DVD bin and, for no reason at all, snatched it up. Couldn't wait to see it again. Watched it all the way through. Still didn't like it ... but my loathing had gone away.

This is a bad movie, no question. I had not been incorrect in my initial response. There are major things wrong with it, from the script to Costner's direction to his performance to the editing to the photography to the story to the .... you get the idea. It has about an hour's worth of plot stretched out over an interminable three hours. It is syrupy, corny, unintentionally hilarious. Worse, it is self-indulgent to the point of idiocy. Somebody should have whacked Kev upside the head before it got out of control.

All of that said ... it is something of a noble failure. Costner was trying to get at something here that was no less ambitious than "Forrest Gump" or his own "Dances With Wolves." Maybe he wanted to do a "Braveheart" updated for modern times, with his postman representing a futuristic, Westernized William Wallace. There is a faint thread of the classic heroic theme here. And there's no question that Costner intended to make a Western; there sure are a lot of horses.

I am no longer angry with Costner for making "The Postman," and today I look on the movie as an anomaly, since "Open Range" has more than redeemed the star's directing career. In fact, I think Costner should direct more films. Maybe he had to get "The Postman" out of his system and start from scratch.

What's strange is that the movie now has an appeal for me that I can't explain. I guess it has become a guilty pleasure, a conversation piece, an enigma on DVD. In fact, I might rather watch "The Postman" than "Field of Dreams," another syrupy and bizzare Costner flick.

Movies are forever. Maybe 10 years from now, we'll have a completely different perception of "The Postman," and perhaps then, Costner will be vindicated. I sort of doubt it, but you never know.