Problem: Write a negative movie review.

Answer: This show is unbelievable in that . . . what it represents and what it focuses on and . . . words cannot describe how insane ET is. They will report anything. If a celebrity is even remotely indirectly connected to the story ET will report on it. If a dog poop in the Tom Cruise's yard they will report on it. If a celebrity dies . . . they will talk about it for weeks on end to the point where the public envy that celebrity. If a celebrity is on trial . . . ET will report it for MONTHS on end. There is no end to what this show will reports and no time frame that dictates how long they will focus on a story. Is it even considered legitimates reporting? The reports are so dang annoying too, with harsh rambling voices and end with an unnecessary pause to convey a sense of important. I cannot watch this show without questioning humanity's existence. ET is one big reason I avoid pre-evening shows in general. I regret that IMDb can only allow a minimum of one star rating and not zero or even in the negatives. For this show deserve -10 Stars.

Problem: Write a positive movie review.

Answer: My take on this, at our local festival where people would see me so often they thought me a better source than I may actually have been, began with a head shake: "Well, I can't summarize the plot, but it's a really superb character study of an extremely scary man." Then, slight embarrassment, I ran into someone who actually knew what had gone down, that is, from whom Trebor unwittingly gets his new heart. It'd been my last film in a long, long day halfway through the festival. Maybe I'd dozed. The better a film is the more likely it triggers daydreams that send me really dreaming. Don't know. Did know there was an O'Henry twist achingly just beyond my ken as things finished. And knew it had to do with the heart, hence the quietly hilarious talent search. My plot-loss remark had more to do with intricacies of Trebor's connections in France, his relation to the dog woman and so on, stuff I'd been wide awake for. Denis barely glances at details that might have anchored another director's treatment.

But I write these things too often from memory, especially festival films, films whose DVD I don't have at hand (Le Lait de la tendresse humaine is one of many examples.), and plot kinks fade much more quickly than broader impressions. Still, or already, L'Inrus in my memory is beyond all else a character study of a sort of dark-side superman, a super fiend not ensconced in genre or historical trappings but active and plausible, relatively soft-spoken, driven but patient, right among us. The scar, once he attains it, makes him, just visually I mean, in image, a sort of hybrid Frankenstein monster, mad doctor and creation all in one. The actual doctors are his tools. If he doesn't extract and install the heart himself, it's only because it's not possible. He's the force, always, the parasite consuming everyone he touches and finally himself. What else is he? To suggest that he's us, the First World versus the Third, seems too simple since he feeds no less on his fellow First Worlders, on all of us.

Denis's camera's eye - when it looks at things I know - goes usually where mine would, so I tend to trust her when she looks at things I don't know. Snow trekking, too-fast bicycling, and forest darkness I've known in small ways, but the South Seas not at all, so I made better entry into L'Intrus, both France and the crystalline isles of its finish, than into Beau Travail. L'Intrus is, for me, a very comfortable discomforting film. It's a sequence of places portrayed familiarly, with a intimacy that allows us to know them whether we've seen the reality or not. A single image, Trebor cycling, his massive weight on the thin racing frame, the sounds of violated air and shrieking tires, the asphalt ribbon, the dark-in-bright-sun evergreens, cued me that the film would be linear, a road trip, a single will-driven thrust.

Despite Trebor's personal power, he's a human failure. No matter who he's with, he's alone, though apparently he hasn't always been. His body aborts life twice, first to need the new heart, then despite it. L'Intrus is tragedy. Trebor is hubris.

I'm navigating perilously the thread of what I remember. Let's leave it at that.

Problem: Write a positive movie review.

Answer: Poor Ivy: Though to the manner born, she had the bad luck to marry a charming wastrel (Richard Ney). As the movie is set in the 20s or 30s, when rigid Victorian ideas of class were starting to fray at the edges, this uncertain status vexes her unduly. The Gretorexes (for so they are called) don't know where their next shilling is coming from but there are yachting parties and fancy-dress balls in posh pleasaunces aplenty to tempt her. When Ivy (Joan Fontaine) makes the acquaintance of a wealthy older gent (Herbert Marshall, who must have been born middle-aged), she sets one of her extravant chapeaux for him. Luckily, one of the beaux she still strings along (Patric Knowles) is a physician whose consulting rooms provide a cache of poison, with which she bids her hubby farewell. The fact that it implicates Knowles doesn't phase her a bit, even as the hours trickle by until he should be hanged by the neck until dead. The turning of the plot depends on police inspector Sir Cedric Hardwicke; Knowles' mother (the redoubtable Lucile Watson); and Knowles' loyal housekeeper (Una O'Connor). Sam Wood adds some subtle touches to this well above average melodrama; Fontaine's luminous face supplies the rest.

Problem: Write a negative movie review.

Answer:
This Tim Burton remake of the original "Planet of the Apes" from 1968 (and starring Charleton Heston) is a far, far cry from the quality and plot of the original.

Certainly special effects have improved since 1968, but writing has not. The characters were boring and the dialog was awful. I sat through the entire film with a friend (who thankfully only rented it) and completely understood why, before Christmas, all of the "Planet of the Apes" toys at Target were in the clearance bin.

My advice to Tim Burton: don't put this on your resume.

My advice to everyone else: watch the original 1968 "Planet of the Apes" movie.