Devil may care less

Three decades after Rosemary’s Baby, two decades after The Tenant, and after a series of five non-horror films, Roman Polanski returns to the supernatural thriller with The Ninth Gate. What could be more promising? Regardless of what one thinks about Polanski’s personal life or legal status, the man is clearly…

Bard on

Titus, Julie Taymor’s gorgeous film version of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus, with Anthony Hopkins as the doomed title character, may be the most opulent release of the season…and also the most perverse, on nearly every front. It’s easy to see why there has never been a feature version of this tragedy…

Better Scotch

You’ve had to feel sorry for the Scottish Board of Tourism when the nation’s film industry started to do robust business. Normally a successful film industry would be great for a country’s image, but in the case of Scotland, it seems, well, counterproductive. After all, most of the films depict…

Not easy being Green

Just when the McCain mania of the presidential campaign peaks and Ross Perot’s Reform Party teeters toward meltdown, Ralph Nader arrives to pick up the banner of reform vérité. The respected consumer activist and critic of corporate power last month kicked off his fight for the fledgling Green Party’s nomination…

Food fright

It seems that cooking, along with letter-writing, sewing, and being courteous, is becoming a lost art. And really, who needs to be able to cook these days? Preprepared, heat-and-eat “gourmet” foods, recently the domain of elite gourmet markets, are popping up at plain old grocery stores. Convenience foods are becoming…

Chill burns

I’ve spent some long evenings in the theater recently, but rarely has the time sailed by as intelligently and harrowingly as it did in Inexpressible Island, a U.S. premiere courtesy of Dallas Theater Center. And we’re talking about a situation, however based in reality, that seems like a gimmick manufactured…

Blink

League of their own Never one to mince words, Jack Alder, founder and executive director of Theatre Three, had his doubts about the future of the Dallas Theatre League, a 6-year-old nonprofit group established to get local theaters working together for the good of one and all. But that part…

You can prick your finger…

Garry Shandling does not have a face for the big screen. He has a mug that seems to spread to the edges of the theater; it’s like an approaching storm front, a sky full of billowing clouds roaring in from the north. And it’s a face built for two emotions:…

Like a sturgeon

The first thought one has while watching The Next Best Thing is, “Was Madonna always this bad an actress?” It’s a question that soon fades from consciousness, to be replaced by, “Was Rupert Everett always this bad an actor?” Then, a little later, arrives this query: “Was John Schlesinger always…

White-trash receptacle

In the closing years of the 20th century, lowbrow white America finally learned to enjoy an ironic laugh at itself, led by Hollywood’s cheerful mockery of the culturally challenged working class. Outside the system, John Waters had this stuff pegged from the get-go, but the American grotesqueries of the original,…

Dog, gone

Willie Morris’ autobiographical novel, My Dog Skip, is a nearly perfect piece of bedtime reading for children — and their parents. Each chapter is virtually a self-contained anecdote; the descriptions of World War II-era Mississippi are lush and dreamlike; and the escapades of the central canine character, depicted as smarter,…

Anjelica’s ashes

If you think the prevailing attitude toward sex in the United States is often archaic, consider that of late 1960s Ireland, as depicted in Agnes Browne, the new movie directed by Anjelica Huston. When asked by her best friend, Marion (Marion O’Dwyer), whether she misses “it,” the recently widowed Agnes…

Honest babe

“I’ve got the world’s largest pubic mound,” Margaret Cho yells. She’s joking about her weight again — -one of her comedy-show standards along with her family (her Korean mother leaves hysterical messages on her answering machine and has a curious fascination with gay porn) and her hometown of San Francisco,…

Send in the clowns — or not

Let’s face it, folks. Circuses stink. Literally and figuratively. Clowns are unfunny and strident at best, and at worst, psychologically scarring previews for kids of humanity’s freakish existential dilemma (“Mommy, why can’t that man stop smiling? Why can’t he stop smiling, Mommy?!!!”). And watching lions and tigers forced to perform…

Performance anxiety

At this point, the chance of scoring a ticket to Don Juan in Chicago, the new show by Lean Theater in Theatre Three’s Theatre Too basement space, is about as likely as finding an unwrinkled sheet on Don Juan’s heart-shaped bed. Word of mouth has spread throughout Dallas theatergoing circles…

Hey, Mr. Spaceman

The last time Drew Daleo showed his art at Gallery 414, he seemed stuck in a rut of war machines and military imagery that some people liked and some hated. If you didn’t fancy the content — World War II bombers and fighter planes — it was hard to get…

Blink

Hardhat Shakespeare Since Cliff Redd returned to his roots as executive director of the Shakespeare Festival of Dallas last April, all hell’s broken loose. “You might say we have a hyperactive staff,” Redd says of the ambitious programming changes for the festival this summer, plus the February launch of an…

Honor thy mummy

Last year’s remake of The Mummy had all of Hollywood’s essential Egyptian movie standards — lots of sand, eternal love, priests and magic, Westerners who didn’t understand what they were messing with, treasure hunters and booby traps, and curses on those who entered tombs and disturbed the dead. While some…

That’s … acting!

James Lipton is so obsequious, it’s astonishing the man does not conduct his interviews from his subjects’ anal cavities. The host of Bravo’s hysterical, oddly riveting Inside the Actors Studio never misses an opportunity to suck up to the famous and talented who deign to accept his invitation. When Sylvester…

Against the wall

Once, a very long time ago, John Frankenheimer was scared of things. He was scared of being fired from his job directing live television dramas during the 1950s; scared of missing a shot, of trying something daring and failing so spectacularly that he would never work again. Once, in the…

Playing Games

Director John Frankenheimer has been putting bad guys on the street since Luca Brazzi slept with a teddy bear, and he shows no sign of letting up at age 70. In Reindeer Games, a relentless (and relentlessly witty) crime thriller set in the frozen wastes of northern Michigan, a sleazy…

Wonder bread

Step right up, youth of the world, and receive the Boomer inoculation that is Wonder Boys, the first feature from director Curtis Hanson since his much-lauded adaptation of James Ellroy’s L.A. Confidential. (Indeed, this is yet another adaptation, this time of Michael Chabon’s 1995 novel.) Then marvel at Michael Douglas…