In this task, you are given a review of a movie and a boolean question whether this review has positive sentiment or negative sentiment. Your task is to generate answer "yes" when the tweet has that particular sentiment, otherwise generate answer "no".

Input: Consider Input: Review: Sure, 65 years have passed since Thalberg's last production was filmed. But fellow IMDB members, come on, this movie is surely one of the masterpieces of the 30's! It is a 10.This was the first movie I saw at New York's Museum of Modern Art, around 1970 (I was a teenager). Expensive looking yet with scenes of such poverty, masterfully photographed, often thrilling, and always engaging, to me it was MGM movie-making at its best. What did audiences feel when they glimpsed a locust attack, the person by person destruction of a mansion, the horrific poverty and then the splendor of wealth.Last week, those watching the Academy Awards had a glimpse of the "senior" Oscar winner in attendance, Luise Rainer. How grand to see an actress who arguably delivered one of the most masterful, haunting performances in history electing to return for a celebration.Ok, so she should not have won the year before (Great Ziegfeld), but don't blame Luise. Talkies were only a decade old when this was released, and her dialogue limited. But as Olan, her use of visual and vocal is memorable.Large scale and touching, what more could a movie lover want! Question: is it a positive review?

Output: yes


Input: Consider Input: Review: I'm a pretty old dude, old enough to remember the taste of Oreos and Coke as they were 50-55 years ago, when every taste for a kid was fresh. I wish I have somehow set some aside then is some magical suspended locker, so that I could taste those things today. This magical locker might even have adjusted the fabric of the food to account for how I've drifted, physically and otherwise, a sort of dynamic chemistry of expectations. Over the half century, they would have had to adjust quite a bit, because you see I would have known that I set them aside. Eating one now would be a celebration of self and past, and story, and sense that would almost make the intervening years an anticipated reward.I didn't have enough sense to do that with original Coke. And I couldn't have invented one of those magical psychic lockers  not then. But I did something almost as good. In the seventies, I really tuned into Roman Polanski. He was a strange and exotic pleasure  you know, movies smuggled out of the Soviet block. Movies so sensitive to beauty that you cry for weeks afterward. Movies that make you want to live with Polish women, one, and then deciding that they would be the last to get it.Here's what I did. I took what I knew would be my favorite Polanski movie and set it aside. I did not watch it. I deferred until I thought I would be big enough to deserve it. Over the years, I would test myself, my ability to surround beauty and delineate it without occupying it. There probably are few Poles who have worked at this, practicing to deserve Chopin. Working to deserve womanness when I see it. Trying to get the inners from the edges.Recently, I achieved something like assurance that it was time to pull this out. I already knew that I was already past the time when this would work optimally, because I had already seen and understood "9th Gate."If you do not know this, it is about a man who innocently rents a room in which the previous tenant (about whom the story is named) jumped out the window, to die later after this man (played by Polanski) visits. What happens is that time folds and he becomes this woman. We are fooled into believing that he is merely mad. But the way we follow him, he is not. He merely has flashes that the world is normal, and that the surrounding people are not part of a coven warping his reality.The story hardly matters. What matters is how Polanksi shapes this thing, both in the way he inhabits the eye that only makes edges and in inhabiting the body that only consists of confused flesh. The two never meet. There is a dissonance that may haunt me for the next 30 years. Its the idea about and inside and an outside with no edges at all  at all except a redhead wig.I know of no one else that could do this, this sketch that remains a sketch, this horror that remains natural.To understand the genius of this, you have to know one of the greatest films ever made; "Rear Window." The genius of that film is the post-noir notion that the camera shapes the world; that the viewer creates the story. What Roman does is take this movie and turn it inside out. In Rear Window, the idea was that the on-screen viewer (Jimmy Stewart) was the anchor and everything else was fiction, woven as we watched. Here, the on screen apartment dweller is the filmmaker. We know this. We know that everything we see is true because he is the narrator. We know it is true that bodies shift identity, that times shift, that causality is plastic. We know that the narrator will kill us. We know that the narrator will leave us in a perpetual horror, on that edge that he imputes but never shows us and lets us imagine. Ted's Evaluation -- 4 of 3: Every cineliterate person should experience this. Question: is it a positive review?

Output: yes


Input: Consider Input: Review: Since my third or fourth viewing some time ago, I've abstained from La Maman et la putain while I wait for the DVD. In the meantime, I've read the french screenplay as well as Alain Philippon's monograph on Jean Eustache. The latter ends with a frustrating filmography, eleven films, fiction, doc, and in-between, impossible to see or, in the cases of Mes petites amoureuses and Le Père Noël..., re-see.A few questions that hit me this moment: Polish Véronika's French is plenty colloquial (un maximum d' "un maximum d'"). Even so, does she have an accent? I think I can tell she does. What does the absence of color add, especially at the single spot the fringe of the city is glimpsed? How does this fringe differ from the sleep and journey that separates worlds of The Tempest and The Winter's Tale? Ditto Alphaville. We may imagine the elapsed years since have done it, but does Eustache deliberately circumscribe the film's milieu? Is this an enchanted isle? Is Alexandre's a fairy tale? Alexandre's always choreographing himself, worrying about how or where to stand or walk, what to say when, announcing these decisions to who have to care less than he does what he does. Or is this his way of trying to choreograph others by doing it to himself? How different is he from Vertigo's Scottie? (I say, I think, very.) What's the difference, and is there one, between Eustache's Léaud, and Truffaut's, and Godard's? How different is the present Léaud? Isn't he still doing it, whatever it is, in recent roles, Irma Vep, Le Pornographe, whatever, approaching old age? Once I arrived early for one in a series of mostly Antoine Doinel (Léaud's character) Truffaut films. For a long while, every three or five minutes, down the aisle would come a twenty-something male in scarf, tweedy coat, Léaud hair, with a direction-seeking nose. I have no idea whether this was conscious or unconscious mimicry. I was that age, but have no idea what I myself looked like then. No scarf, at least. I do have a brother, though, who seems to have learned his carriage from Bresson. Question: is it a negative review?


Output: no