Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" is the movie of the year, a passionate account of Jesus' sufferings on the world's behalf that most certainly IS faithful to the Gospels. (Pay no attention to the pompous "reader from Houston" whose review headlined "Short on facts, long on dogma" challenges the accuracy of the King James Bible. Where are the footnotes for the research he alleges to have done? Pay no attention to anyone who condemns this film or the book who refuses to sign his/her name to their review. And certainly pay no attention to someone who comments on a book or film based on Scripture who then recommends some nonsense about aliens. Aliens are nothing more than demons - fallen angels - out to decieve the "uneducated masses" of whom "reader from Houston" is exhibit A.)

If Mel Gibson's film moved you, the accompanying book will have the same effect.

I hated, hated, hated this book. Well, no, I didn't "hate" it, but other than a few amusing observations about movies Ebert didn't like, this collection of negative reviews of bad flicks just isn't worth the time. Most of the movies he pans have been all together forgotten by now, even by avid filmgoers, and is anyone going to consider renting "North," the movie Ebert "hated, hated, hated" to see if what he has to say about it is fair? I think not. Stick to the Movie Yearbook.

Every time I see Roger Ebert on the red carpet at the Academy Awards, sticking a microphone in people's faces and sometimes asking questions or making observations that are either gushing or rude, I have a hard time taking him seriously as a critic. Like Rex Reed, he's becoming too much of a showbiz figure himself. But when I read his reviews, my respect for him is restored. He gives equal time to both big-budget box-office hits and tiny independant films, and never comes across as a snob.

Reading the reviews of some critics makes me suspect there's a hidden network through which they make secret contact and agree that film A should be praised and film B should be panned. How else to explain the resoundingly hateful and negative reviews for "15 Minutes," an okay movie with Robert DeNiro and Ed Burns that everyone but Ebert carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey? Ebert did not fall in line, and saw the merits of that film.

But Roger, be a little more civil on the red carpet at the Oscars. I remember in 1994 when you told Holly Hunter that you thought her nomination as best supporting actress for "The Firm" was the worst nomination that year. It's okay to say that in print or on TV, but to say it to her face as she's entering the ceremony was distasteful. It's not her fault she was nominated. Her peers nominated her. Tell THEM, not her, and don't spoil her night with such a negative statement, even if you're just being honest.

What a bore.

And what a hype!

She came out of nowhere, did she? Yeah, right. She's only the daughter of that sitar player, you know, the one who made "Concert for Bangladesh" such a chore to sit through - Ravi Shankar. I doubt that doors, and the opportunities waiting behind them, open wide at the drop of his name, but the media portrayed Norah Jones as some anonymous singer with no connections who succeeded on sheer talent. If so, where's the talent?

She sounds like she's about to fall asleep, at least she does until her voice sends me to Groggyville. She even has a slur in her voice, as if she's battling to stay awake. And that Grammy winning song, the title of which escapes me (soon to be joined, I hope, by its monotonous melody), is nothing but a blatant ripoff of Vince Guaraldi's "Christmas Time Is Here" from "A Charlie Brown Christmas." The fact that it reminds me of Guaraldi's great song is the one point in its favor.

Jones won an armload of Grammies for this record, once again proving that the recording industry's premiere honor remains mired in middle of the road mediocrity, something we were reminded of a year earlier when Alicia Keyes, another no-talent, was crowned prom queen at the same event. Give it time, in a year or two, Jones and Keyes will join Christopher Cross in the "Whatever Happened To" column, providing they can even measure up to the standards in place there. At least Cross had enough talent to make one decent album.

Beautiful.

Jennifer Warnes sings like an angel, and her voice has never been put to better use than on these songs by Leonard Cohen. The highlight is "Joan of Arc," a powerful, dramatic production that never fails to give me goose bumps.

If I were to put together a list of the 10 greatest albums of all time, this album would definitely be included, maybe even in first place. This is a true work of art.

As a Dylan fan, I went to see this in the theater even though I suspected I would agree with the overwhelmingly negative reviews. And I do. This film is a travesty, the kind of pretentious and pointless foolishness that might have seemed to possess bottomless depths and hidden meanings in the Sixties when people seemed not to be thinking clearly (listening to records backwards and treating their bodies like a pharmacy). For those who think Dylan is something other than a great singer and songwriter (which is all he is, folks, and isn't that enough?), there may be layers upon layers of wisdom to be found in this trifle, but I think they're either kidding themselves or engaging in wishful thinking.

It's kind of sad that Dylan didn't step aside and simply agree to appear as an "actor" in this film rather than write it, too (under a pseudonym). He may not be an actor, but he has a real presence and an eccentric quality that could make him a fine comic performer. And with that cast, this could have been good. Instead, like the atrocious "Hearts of Fire," it's just another missed opportunity.

The Amazon.com reviewer compares this to one of Dylan's songs, but a movie is not a song, just as a movie is not a book. The best books rarely make the best movies, and the best songs succeed because they can't be translated into another medium. Just as a book is a book, a song is a song, and a movie is a movie. This is a lousy movie of interest only to the curious.

Eszterhas is as sleazy as they come, providing one can even believe most of what he writes. Some of his claims, especially about his sexual conquests, seem rather dubious when you look at his portrait on the back cover. With his caved-in mouth (does he have teeth?), and big, bushy beard, Eszterhas would look right at home on a street corner with all the other panhandlers. If he truly spent time between the sheets with Sharon Stone, it's more of an indictment against her complete lack of morals and taste, than it is a compliment to Eszterhas' personal appeal.

Hal Lindsey's "The Late Great Planet Earth" is the kind of book that those hostile to Christianity love to analyze and criticize by distorting Lindsey's words. By golly, the man must be a false prophet, after all, he said that Israel's rebirth as a nation in 1948 was a sure sign that we were living in the "last generation" before the return of Christ. Since he describes a generation as lasting "about 40 years" in the Bible, well, golly, they claim Lindsey was predicting the end of the world (as we know it) in the year 1988. Duh, like, gee, the world didn't end in 1988 so he must be, like, you know, wrong and stuff. Duh.

Such people are wolves in sheep's clothing, and sheep that mindlessly follow the wolves. They misinterpret Lindsey's words in order to contradict him. But Lindsey doesn't claim to be infallible, and most of what he saw coming way back when this book was first published has come to pass. The United States of Europe that he said the Bible prophecized is now a reality, and this body, the European Union, from which the Antichrist will rise, even uses the image of a woman on a bull (the harlot atop the beast) that the Book of Revelation presents as a symbol of this unholy union.

In short, this is an excellent book. Read it with an open mind, and accept the fact that Lindsey is human and, therefore, bound to be wrong about little details and such. But when it comes to the big picture, he invariably hits the mark.

And be aware that everything the Bible says will happen will surely happen, and though belief requires faith, it doesn't really require much faith to see that what the Bible foretells is being played out right before our eyes.

Girls aren't necessarily the biggest James Bond fans, but I've always loved the movies and especially the music. This movie isn't generally considered one of the best in the series, but it's a favorite of mine and I think the music is wonderful. Exciting yet often solemn. The title song is my favorite of all the 007 theme songs and Nancy Sinatra sings it perfectly.