20 December 2009


At least three of my top ten albums this year exhibit a considerable Kate Bush influence—not a bad way to close out the decade. However, it concerns me that I ended up downloading every single one of my top five albums from Amazon or iTunes. I still love shopping for CDs in an actual, physical store, but don't be surprised if I’m (sigh) downloading all of the titles in my top ten a couple years from now.


10. Tegan and Sara – SAINTHOOD

Over a decade into their recording career with nary a misstep, the Quin twins continue their unique balancing act of crafting pop songs both universally catchy and stubbornly individualistic. If their sixth album leans more heavily towards the former (as their 2004 breakthrough SO JEALOUS did), it also aims for the intimate scope of THE CON (2007), but with a directness that befits the energetic, filler-free playlist. Tegan (or is it Sara?—still can’t tell ‘em apart) signs off with the lyric, “Mark my words, I might be something someday”, and they’ve set the bar admirably high.

Favorite tracks: “Hell”, “Alligator”, “The Cure”

9. Bat For Lashes – TWO SUNS

Her debut having entirely passed me by, Natasha Khan’s second album was a great discovery. In part, she’s a throwback to an era when a girl with mystical motivations and minor goth inclinations (think Johnette Napolitano and Kate Bush, of course, but also Tori Amos and PJ Harvey) could beguile an adoring audience. Fortunately, she has ample talent and, more importantly, presence. Some will inevitably write her off as a flake or a fool, but for the rest of us, this record, with its utilization of tribal rhythms, gospel choirs and cult legend Scott Walker is a thing of beauty.

Favorite tracks: “Pearl’s Dream”, “Moon and Moon”, “Sleep Alone”

8. Kings of Convenience – DECLARATION OF DEPENDENCE

This Norwegian duo’s last album, RIOT ON AN EMPTY STREET (2004), was nearly perfect to begin with and has endeared itself to me like few other records. On this belated encore, they’re even quieter and more minimalist, only occasionally supplementing their acoustic guitars and delicate harmonies with a fleeting piano tinkle or a simpatico violin. Although this lacks some of its predecessor’s tension and ingenuity, it also shows that these guys haven’t forgotten how to effortlessly sustain and engage the listener in a cozy, autumnal mood.

Favorite tracks: “Boat Behind”, “My Ship Isn’t Pretty”, “Riot On an Empty Street”

7. Yeah Yeah Yeahs – IT’S BLITZ!

I always questioned Karen O’s entertaining but belabored Siouxsie Sioux shtick, and I’d pretty much written this trio off after their weirdly inert second album, 2006’s SHOW YOUR BONES. So, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed that Karen and her cohorts would redeem themselves by going all the way and making their third album a very Siouxsie-like 80s synth-pop/new wave extravaganza. Looser, full of joy and best of all, more fun (dig the title’s very apt exclamation point), the YYY’s transcend their influences by fully embracing them—and writing songs as exuberant and affecting as “Hysteric”.

Favorite tracks: “Hysteric”, “Zero”, “Heads Will Roll”, “Little Shadow”


Easily one of the most overlooked albums of the year, this female vocalist/pianist’s fourth effort is a sizable leap forward that is comparable to other fourth albums like FROM THE CHOIRGIRL HOTEL and THE DREAMING. No longer content to solely resign herself to piano ballads (though a few excellent ones surface here) Teng attempts to broaden her repertoire, and she manages to be more propulsive (the rocking, shimmering “White Light”), experimental (the odd time signatures of “Radio”), adventurous (the build up and flamenco break of “No Gringo”) and just plain eclectic (the delightful, hard-to-categorize, handclap-driven “Grandmother Song”) than one would have ever thought possible.

Favorite tracks: “Grandmother Song”, “White Light”, “In Another Life”, “No Gringo”


This duo’s second LP may not contain a track as blissfully perfect as “Again and Again” or cunningly astute as “Fucking Boyfriend” but as whole, it’s a more consistent effort than the debut. Although the best track is actually a leftover from an earlier EP (“Polite Dance Song”), there are no duds, either. Tributes to Japan (the country, not the band) and David Lee Roth sit next to putdowns of fucking boyfriends and sinister girlfriends and love songs touching in their simplicity and urgency. Erasing any notion of this arrangement as a fleeting project, Inara and Greg prove they were meant for each other.

Favorite tracks: “Polite Dance Song”, “Diamond Dave”, “My Love”, “Birthday”

4. Florence + The Machine – LUNGS

Five years ago, I deemed Nellie McKay’s GET AWAY FROM ME “the debut of the year, possibly the decade.” I still stand by that, but in a few years time I wouldn’t be surprised if I felt just as fondly about this debut from 23-year-old Florence Welch. Passion is a quality I always admire in a musician; on LUNGS, Flo exudes enough passion for about five albums, and is precocious enough to swerve between the primal (the punky stomp of “Kiss With a Fist”) and the ethereal (“Cosmic Love”, simultaneously thunderous and airy). This may be off-putting to some, but in the context of her soaring vocals and glittering, hooky songs, it has the power to nearly take one’s breath away.

Favorite tracks: “Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)”, “Dog Days are Over”, “Kiss With a Fist”, “Cosmic Love”

3. St. Vincent – ACTOR

“I think I love you, I think I’m maaaaaaaaddd,” sings the former Annie Clark on “Actor Out of Work”, and it nicely exposes the subversive nature of the deceptively normal-looking woman on the album cover. Tighter yet more expansive than her debut MARRY ME, it surely sounds like nothing else out there right now, barely cloaking its quirk with sweet sounds and melodies (“Black Rainbow” could be a Disney cartoon slowly being eaten up by a David Lynch production). She’s undeniably arty and challenging but shrewd enough to allow for such an unexpected epiphany as the sublime moment near the end of “Just the Same But Brand New” when the drums kick in and the song explodes into Technicolor.

Favorite tracks: “Actor Out of Work”, “Just the Same But Brand New”, “Laughing With a Mouth of Blood”, “Marrow”

2. Metric – FANTASIES

Emily Haines is something of a national treasure in Canada; on her band’s latest album, she makes a blatant attempt to become one south of the border as well. FANTASIES sands down the rough edges of Metric’s previous efforts, presenting ten sleek, gleaming electropop numbers designed to be heard on the radio next to standards by The Cars and performed in the sort of stadiums that Depeche Mode used to fill. Normally, I’d be aghast at such a notion, but here’s the thing—it suits Haines and Metric shockingly well. I don’t want to diminish LIVE IT OUT or Haines’ wonderfully melancholy solo record from a few years back, but this is her crowning achievement to date, and it works primarily because Haines is as adept at coming up with a catchy earworm of a chorus as she is fleshing out her compositions with depth and nuance.

Favorite tracks: “Help I’m Alive”, “Gold Guns Girls”, “Gimme Sympathy”, “Satellite Mind”

1. Super Furry Animals – DARK DAYS/LIGHT YEARS

It’s that kind of album—the kind that opens with a six-minute jam called “Crazy Naked Girls”, the kind where a member of Scots New Wave revivalists Franz Ferdinand shows up for a guest rap in German, the kind with a song title like “The Very Best of Neil Diamond” or lyrics such as “I wasn’t looking for a mountain / There was the mountain / It was a big fucking mountain.” In other words, it’s eclectic to a fault. This is not necessarily a bad thing, for it’s also the kind of album where one senses endless possibilities, from a simple love song barely able to hold back its optimism and euphoria (“Helium Hearts”) to an impressionistic eight-minute mood piece chugging along a flawless beat and floating on by with heavenly “sha la la’s” (“Cardiff in the Sun”). Robert Christgau once memorably described Led Zeppelin as “genius dumb”, and that somewhat contradictory term neatly sums up this Welsh collective’s ninth (and best) album.

Favorite tracks: “Inaugural Trams”, “Cardiff In the Sun”, “Helium Hearts”, “White Socks/Flip Flops”

ALSO RECOMMENDED (with favorite tracks):

Andrew Bird – NOBLE BEAST
(“Oh No”, “Fitz and Dizzyspells”)

Bebel Gilberto – ALL IN ONE
(“Sun is Shining”, “Chica Chica Boom Chic”)

Camera Obscura – MY MAUDLIN CAREER
(“French Navy”, “The Sweetest Thing”, “Honey in the Sun”)

Emm Gryner – GODDESS
(“Young as the Night”, “Die Evergreen”)

(“San Francisco”, "Nothing to Prove", “Mexican Pharmacy”)

(“Hazel”, “The Animator”)

Lily Allen – IT’S NOT ME, IT’S YOU
(“The Fear”, “Not Fair”, “22”)

(“Middle Cyclone”, “I’m an Animal”)

(“Wonderful Guy”, “Crazy Rhythm”)

Pet Shop Boys – YES
(“Love Etc.”, “King of Rome”, “The Way It Used to Be”)

(“Ohayoo Ohio”, “Splendor in the Grass”)

(“Here to Fall”, “Avalon or Someone Very Similar”, “By Two’s”)

06 December 2009


Twelve random 2009 photographs that I like:

Spring in Jamaica Plain - every year, the purples and pinks I see out here (as opposed to the Midwest) never cease to amaze.

Taken at the Brooklyn Botannical Garden in late May.

From a long summer weekend spent in Western Mass., a stunning view in back of the Edith Wharton Estate.

Later that weekend, The Bridge of Flowers (the one on the right) in Shelburne Falls.

At the DeCordova Sculpture Museum in Lincoln, MA, Labor Day weekend.

Another shot of a Toronto street (Queen, I believe) that did not make this post. I love how the CN Tower peeps out in the background.

More pumpkins than you could ever want at Russell Orchards in Ipswich, MA.

Down the road from Russell's, a dramatic sunset at the beach on the Crane Estate.

The harbor in Camden, ME on an October afternoon.

An exceptional year for fall foliage, as seen at Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge.

Later that day, unexpected beauty in a parking lot in nearby Watertown.

Thanksgiving weekend, a mild Sunday afternoon at Millenium Park in Kriofske Mix home base West Roxbury: Maggie and Steve strolling off into the sunset of another year.

28 November 2009


The year 2000, not the 2000’s – that will have to wait until at least January. Not nearly as tremendous a year as 2001, it’s also prone to turn-of-the-decade deliberation: most sources list two or three of these films as copyright 1999, but since they were released in the US the following year, they qualify here.

Admittedly, I go back and forth on this film’s actual merit. Stephen Frears’ workmanlike adaptation of Nick Hornby’s first (and best) novel attempts to sell an inherently indie story (the hapless love life of a music geek/record store owner) to a wide audience, and the two sensibilities don’t always gel. But then, the music geek in me remembers so much to love about it: Jack Black’s breakthrough performance (playing to all of his very particular persona’s strengths), Todd Louiso’s underrated one (really, the antithesis of Black’s) and of course, John Cusack as a Lloyd Dobler-type who has hit his mid-thirties and naturally still hasn’t figured it all out.

Period costume dramas tend to bore me to tears with their stilted pageantry, but this Edith Wharton adaptation from Terence Davies effortlessly draws me in because it draws so much blood. In his highly personal British film essays, Davies tends to favor a sort of unsentimental nostalgia: here, he revels in the lush detail of early 20th Century upper-crust New York, but he doesn’t lessen any of the real devastation Wharton’s heroine Lily Bart (Gillian Anderson, unconventionally cast but nearly revelatory) faces, and is shrewd enough not to obscure how much of it she brings upon herself—that’s not to say she doesn’t receive any help from a most exquisitely bitchy Laura Linney.

Another indie novel (from Michael Chabon) getting the big studio treatment (helmed by director-for-hire Curtis Hanson)—but here, everything aligns beautifully. Michael Douglas gleefully (and rather successfully) plays against type as a schlubby, ratty bathrobe-adorned author forever trying to finish a massive novel while dealing with a garden variety of eccentrics (Robert Downey Jr., Tobey Maguire) and lovers (Frances McDormand, a pre-Cruise Katie Holmes). It’s incredibly shaggy and more than a little quirky, but also immensely likable, and one of the few instances where a tacked-on happy ending actually works better than the book’s unbearably depressing conclusion.

Speaking of unbearably depressing conclusions: I would rate this film much higher if I could ever stand to watch it again. Still, at a safe distance I can admire and applaud Lars von Trier’s weird, operatic combination of Dogme feel-bad melodrama and joyous, explosive Technicolor musical spectacle. Only a genius as demented as von Trier could pull this off, a true psychological slasher film—difficult to watch, but so compelling that you don’t dare to look away. But do not undervalue Bjork: her innovative songs (which almost magically fuse the orchestral with the electronic) and her unglamorous, egoless performance both give the film its soul.

Zhang Yimou made a name for himself with sumptuous, epic historical pieces that, at their best, retained the intimacy of a tight character study. Here, he forgoes the large canvas and focuses entirely on a smaller story that can be summed up as such: a young substitute teacher in rural China is instructed not to lose any of her students. When one boy leaves the village to find work in the city, she goes out looking for him. Even as it subtly points out critical differences between an evolving urban and rural China, it’s a simple, straightforward film. Fortunately, in that simplicity, the director finds much beauty—I haven’t seen it in nearly a decade now, but I can still recall how deeply moved I felt at the closing credits.

For much of the past decade, Iranian auteur Abbas Kiarostami has focused entirely on documentaries and minimalist digital video features that visually bear little resemblance to his best known work. So, call this entry a pinnacle of what came before. Abandoning the meta-narratives of past triumphs like CLOSE-UP, he presents a bare-bones premise—a journalist travels to an isolated Kurdish village to report on a rare burial ceremony for a dying elderly woman—and then repeatedly skirts it, focusing more on cultural differences and missed connections (never has any film wrung so much poetry from bad cell phone reception). Throughout, the mammoth, surrounding landscape plays such an essential role to the film’s almost beatific pondering of life and death that Kiarostami’s typically unresolved final scene makes for a most apt summation.

With each year, this looks more like Christopher Guest’s best show. His precise dismantling of dog shows and their trainers may not contain the unanticipated emotional heft of WAITING FOR GUFFMAN or the deadpanned brilliance of THIS IS SPINAL TAP, but it may be his funniest, sharpest effort, and certainly his darkest and most savage. Kudos to an especially inspired ensemble, from expertly drawn stock characters like Parker Posey’s yuppie from hell and Jennifer Coolidge’s golddigging poodle princess to only-in-Guest-land creations like Fred Willard’s sublimely clueless, tasteless commentator and Guest’s own drawlin’ fishin’ store proprietor/aspiring ventriloquist. As little as they may care to admit it, subsequent real competition-focused docs from SPELLBOUND to THE KING OF KONG owe a lot to this fake one.

Whatever happened to director Eric Mendelsohn? His debut feature seemed to come from out of nowhere. The type of indie film that now seems lost to a long-ago era, it’s a low budget, black-and-white fable about a day in the life of a sleepy Long Island suburb. The word fable seems most suitable due to the film’s dreamy pacing, sparse, poetic use of music and sound and gorgeous, otherworldly cinematography (the day centers on a solar eclipse); there’s also a trio of superb performances from Edie Falco, Barbara Barrie, and, in her last role, the incomparable Madeline Kahn. According to IMBd.com, Mendelsohn finally has a new film in post-production; let’s hope it’s as unique, charming and sincere as his first.

2. YI YI
Most Westerners (including this author) only know Taiwanese director Edward Yang via this three-hour familial tapestry and meditation on mortality, urban alienation and human kindness. While I would love to easily view Yang’s still-not-available-on-region-1-DVD back catalogue, YI YI seems so elaborately vast and complete that it almost compensates. Beginning with a birth and ending with a death, it marries the scope of Dickens with the pinpoint exactness of Carver. Nothing really earth-shattering occurs, but everything shifts and rearranges itself ever so slightly, creating the most profound cumulative effect as it considers something so ordinary as the passage of time and lives lived—possibly even more profound since Yang’s untimely death in 2007.

Although inspired by Herman Melville’s novel BILLY BUDD, this is the sort of subject matter you can imagine only working as a film, or perhaps director Claire Denis and her cinematographer Agnes Godard just managed to fully transform a literary work into cinematic art at a level without precedent. A stunningly shot and framed Rubik’s Cube of a movie, BEAU TRAVAIL (whose title translates as “Good Work”) is a peek into how a young recruit upsets the balance of power in a French Foreign Legion post in North Africa, but it’s just as much a rigorous paean to the kinesis of the male form. It constructs a purely visual language that would make it just as exciting to watch with the sound turned off—that is, if it weren’t for wiry, wound-up Denis Levant at the film’s center. Both his acute physical actions and monotone (but not apathetic) voiceover barely conceal a mounting intensity that is kept almost impossibly bottled-up until the film’s astonishing final scene, where it explodes in a most unexpected, ingenious and euphoric way.

My original top ten for this year:


Funny how # 1 and # 10 are still the same, eh? I must have seen YI YI days after making this list. THE HOUSE OF MIRTH would not play Boston until February 2001. Can't imagine how CHUCK AND BUCK and CHICKEN RUN made the cut over BEST IN SHOW and WONDER BOYS. I have fond memories of ALMOST FAMOUS as a fun, if somewhat flawed film. However, my memories of YOU CAN COUNT ON ME are vague at best—I seriously need to revisit it, because I remember feeling a little anger over Laura Linney losing the Oscar to Julia Roberts that year.

26 November 2009


Chances are you've already seen this classic, not-a-parody Chicago commercial - I've viewed it many times myself, and it never fails to crack me up - the shoddy production values, the even shakier acting, the sound effects! Happy Thanksgiving.

14 November 2009


Get ready for an overdose of cute. It was one year ago today that Steve brought a ten-week-old Maggie home.

Here she is the first night, lap-sized.

A week later: still a little disoriented by her new surroundings.

December: more comfortably at home

Early January: still small enough to fit in a bookcase.

Late January: getting a little scruffy, although the rest of her head has yet to catch up with her ears.

February: ears no longer so bunny-like.

March: post-spayed and temporarily funnel-headed.

May: still small enough to get a bath in the kitchen sink.

Summer: full grown and ready for action!

November 2009: the lady of the house, and a good girl.

10 November 2009


Yes, the year is correct. As I begin compiling my end-of-the-decade lists (you’ve been warned), you may notice that on the sidebar, my yearly lists for film and music only go back to 2002, for that’s when I began blogging. Completist that I am, I feel the need to post my top ten films of this decade’s first two years (I haven’t decided whether to do music yet). First up, 2001.

More than a few critics deem 1939 the greatest year ever for movies (THE WIZARD OF OZ, GONE WITH THE WIND, etc;), while at least one has stumped for 1999, the year of AMERICAN BEAUTY, MAGNOLIA, BOYS DON’T CRY and many other notable efforts (BEING JOHN MALKOVICH was my # 1 at the time, although now I would say ELECTION without hesitation).

For me, 2001 is almost implausibly stellar. I feel as strongly about every title in my current top ten of that year (as opposed to my original list, which I’ll reveal at the end) as I do about most of my number one films of any other year this decade. I’m not sure how to account for this. Before I argue how these films were born out of a creatively stimulating environment that no longer exists, may I remind you that 2001 produced a lot of dreck as well, from Tim Burton’s pointless remake of PLANET OF THE APES to stiflingly disastrous indies such as NOVOCAINE. So, call it serendipitous that a single year produced such a bounty of cinematic riches—keep your fingers crossed that it will happen again soon. (As always, I go by U.S. release dates in determining what year a film belongs to).

Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s iconic baguette of a romantic comedy nearly defies logic. The cynic in me sees it as an overly precious slice of calculated whimsy and wishes it had an actress with more depth and presence than title star Audrey Tautou. And yet, every time I watch the film, I melt like our heroine literally does in one scene. The narration, the set design and especially the score are inventive and divine. In the end, I suppose the whole thing radiates enough pure, unfiltered joy to obliterate all of my cynicism.

Easily the most obscure film on this list, this quiet gem from writer/director Jim McKay follows three teenage girls (one of them a young, robust Kerry Washington) over the course of one summer in Brooklyn. What impresses me most about this coming of age tale is its genuineness: rarely does a work of fiction so effortlessly simulate the day to day rhythms of real life to the point where viewers feel as if they are eavesdropping in on the characters rather than watching performances.

John Cameron Mitchell’s adaptation of his own theatrical piece about a sort-of transgender glam rocker boasts a unique searching-for-an-identity concept that transcends its Rocky Horror influence, terrific songs that, for once in a musical, genuinely rock, and an instantly winning, handmade, off-the-cuff feel. However, it’s Mitchell himself that gives the film its spark—his Hedwig is such an arresting and sincere persona that the character’s underdog status takes on an intense poignancy amidst all the fabulousness.

Perhaps the decade’s premier cult flick, and the one that seems to exist most defiantly in its own world—just try to describe it to someone who hasn’t seen it in twenty words or less. “Disturbed teenager discovers means of time travel while a giant rabbit forces him to do bad things” is the best I can come up with, and even that doesn’t begin to explain this perverse John Hughes tribute. Overly ambitious and a little obtuse, it’s nonetheless a true original, casting an eerie, unshakable spell like no film before or arguably since.

Robert Altman doing an upstairs/downstairs British period mystery? It seems as absurd as a 1970s update of Phillip Marlowe, or a live-action version of an outrageously silly comic strip/cartoon. Altman tried everything and left his discernible stamp on it (to varying degrees of success), but this was his best effort since NASHVILLE, with which it shared a massive, mostly great ensemble delineated by class, and a murder. But he just about glosses over the latter and focuses almost entirely on the subtleties inherent in the former, and it’s a rich, witty, revealing take on an awfully particular culture.

Speaking of comic book adaptations: this starts off like the ultimate ‘90s Tarantino-inspired remnant of indie irony: two teenagers (a never-better Thora Birch and a young, astute Scarlett Johansson) live to mock and defile the mass-market suburban humdrum around them by celebrating that which “is so bad it’s gone past good back to bad again.” Fortunately, director Terry Zwigoff doesn’t let his heroines (or the audience) get off so easily. By adding an inspired third character (Steve Buscemi at his very best) to the story, he allows them to consider a depth of emotion outside the film’s ticky-tacky surface, and the end result absolutely nails the uncertainty and fear of becoming a grown up.

Another director who is game for just about anything, Richard Linklater is at his best when he’s at his most personal; this seemingly free-form, literally floating (via rotoscope animation) dip into blather about dreams and ideas seems exceptionally personal, but feels like an inspired dialogue, as many contribute to its ideas and design (it employs over twenty animators on a scene-by-scene basis). In addition to looking like nothing else that preceded it, WAKING LIFE also had its own unique, peculiar rhythm—it was one of the few films released in the weeks after 9/11 that wholeheartedly encouraged its viewers to sit down and think about the world around and beyond them.

Some filmmakers arrive with a fully-formed vision (see # 7) that they can neither top nor sustain; others cultivate one gradually until it eventually blossoms at its fullest extent. Wong Kar Wai is the best director in the latter category I can think of. This film beautifully amalgamates all of his obsessions (American pop music, tactile sensuousness, romantic longing, the opportunity and folly of coincidence) into a stunning whole. A deceptively simple tale of a romance that’s never acted upon, it sounds like the stuff of a prime Douglas Sirk melodrama. Instead, it plays out with such nuance and restraint that it achieves an almost unbearable intimacy, leaving the viewer insatiably swooned and utterly devastated.

I wasn’t much of a Lynch-head before seeing this exquisite and weirdly emotional mindfuck of a feature, which was constructed from scraps of a rejected television series pilot. I still find it hard to explain why I get goose bumps just hearing the opening swing-band theme music as the image blurs and skitters across the screen. I can’t even fully decipher the narrative’s warped logic, although over several viewings I’ve come up with a few ambitious, probably insufficient theories. But oh, how easily Lynch seduces me—with Los Angeles as his medium, he fearlessly explores connections between dreams, reality and the movies, not to mention all of the wicked, sublime and terrifying possibilities that surface when they overlap.

To explain my enduring love for Wes Anderson’s familial saga, I go back to the notion that with each viewing, I take away more from it. Visually, that’s not much of a challenge for anyone, for the director jam packs each intricate frame and dizzying montage with an insane attention-to-detail that bespeaks a lot of excitement and real affection for this universe he’s created. For some, it’s harder to locate that growing emotional charge on subsequent viewings or even one to begin with. While not denying that Anderson’s whimsy is an acquired taste, I will strongly champion the carefulness with which he develops his characters (okay, maybe 'cept for Dudley)—always in stock uniform, they may appear like comic strip denizens, but they’re also as unexpectedly complicated and enchantingly flawed as most people you know.

Just for fun, here was my original top ten:


I had seen DONNIE DARKO but was still processing it. As for AMELIE, I was grappling with the issues I mentioned above. I was easily impressed by the performances in IN THE BEDROOM at the time, though now I suspect that's all there is to the film. Repeated viewings of the Lynch and Anderson films, of course, escalated my opinions of them over the years. And what about MEMENTO, this year's (and possibly this decade's) greatest casualty? I've had little desire to return to it since 2002, and I fear it wouldn't stack up to these other films today. Perhaps before the decade is over, I'll view it again to make sure.