To Gillian on her 37th Birthday (1996)

Outline: Friends and family gather together to celebrate the birthday weekend of Gillian Lewis (Michelle Pfeiffer), who died two years ago. Her husband, David (Peter Gallagher), is still passionately in love with her, and he spends time with her on the beach everyday. His teenaged daughter, Rachel (Claire Danes), knows about her dad's sightings, and his decision not to move on has caused a rift between David and his sister-in-law, Esther (Kathy Baker), and her husband, Paul (Bruce Altman), which comes to a head when they decide to bring a woman (Wendy Crewson) to meet David.

Here's the thing that's both great and crappy about this movie: I don't believe in ghosts, so you have to know that I thought that David would have to be either actively imagining or genuinely hallucinating these encounters with Gillian. Even so, I didn't see what the real problem with them was until the movie gets there.

A screenplay that allows me to work with it instead of trying to tear it down brick by brick is a nice treat for me. Gallagher, Pfeiffer, and Danes (not that I am putting them on the same level) are all such talented performers that it's easy for me to be drawn into their family dynamic and their individual dramas.

And I really don't see the big deal about moving on after your spouse dies. Spending your time on the beach with dead people is taking it too far, but not wanting to get together with someone else is perfectly reasonable.

Still, Michael Pressman hasn't directed anything memorable in the past, and this near-gem isn't an exception. It's nice to watch if you find it on, but there's nothing in it to get you to come back. Although Seth Green does try in his three seconds of screen time. Oh, Seth, when will they ever learn? B

Speaking of letting go, moving on, (and bad segues)

Broken Flowers (2005)

Outline: After aging singleton Don Johnston's (Billy Murray) latest girlfriend (Julie Delpy) leaves him, he receives a unsigned letter telling him that the 19 year-old son he never knew he had is looking for him. At the behest of his amateur detective neighbour, Winston (Jeffrey Wright), Don goes on a tour of his exes from twenty years ago looking for answers.

Oddly enough, it's mostly a comedy.

I can't decide whether the segment with Jessica Lange or Sharon Stone is my favourite. Lange's was a lot more subtly humorous, but the unbelievable cluelessness surrounding Stone's puts it ahead of the rest. Her, her daughter (who I recognized from the only episode of Witchblade I've ever seen), their chicken, their jug of strawberry wine, all of it. It just killed me.

Not so much theatre attendants. Apparently you lose the ability to laugh out loud when you pass 40.

Despite the fact that this is the quietest I've ever seen him (or because of it?), this is also the best Murray's ever been. Mildly caustic, with more of an air of resignation about him in any situation than annoyance, Murray weaves physical comedy in brilliant with the fantastic material writer-director Jim Jarmusch gives him.

While I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, I have to wonder what the big deal is for all the critics. Maybe I'm just too young to understand. In twenty years, however . . . But until then, the work remains unfinished in my mind. A-

I kind of like this more than one movie at a time thing.