An uplifting fable, told with a deft touch by a master directing a fine cast.

Rating: 8/10 (31 March 2001)

Everything I'd heard or read -- except Roger Ebert and Jeff Lyons -- said this movie was sentimental twaddle. It didn't seem likely, though, that this fine a director and cast could so thoroughly sink the ball in every water hazard known to movie making, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Actually, it's a first rate, uplifting tale of redemption through love and the act of rediscovering who you are. Matt Damon was wonderful in his role, adding another fine acting turn to a filmography that now includes a number of good guys (which seem to suit him well) and one stinker (Ripley), which may have been bad casting. He grows, he excels at self-discovery, and he's fun to watch. Theron had me transfixed -- in a world of post-pubescent female leads, none of whom will ever amount to diddly (or get another role) after the first onset of wrinkles at the mouth and a tummy, she has the glamorous aura of a genuine studio star of yesterday; and yes, she can act. Will Smith has been one likeable guy after another for years, and I like his smarts and his sass. As to Robert Redford's turn as director once again, he can continue to fight cynicism by waging a classy war for moral uplift through groundedness as long as he likes, and I'll love every minute of it, whether he's swinging a bat or a club, healing people or horses. I've had enough car chases, enough people trying to get laughs through farts and scatology, enough dumbing down to the lowest common denominator. This is a glossy, beautifully told, gorgeously photographed story that makes you feel good. Only one question bugs me -- why wasn't Jack Lemmon credited. His role as narrator was as big as anyone's on screen. There's a tale there.