As everyone was saying last summer about Rob Cohen and Vin Diesel's xXx, action sequences are only as good as the degree of plausibility the viewer is willing to grant as he/she watches it. It's all part of the narcotized Bondian scheme of things, which I've been attributing over the last ten years or so to the influence of caretaker producer Michael Wilson, the husband of Barbara Broccoli, who inherited the family business, so to speak, when Bond producer Cubby Broccoli died in '96. (Brosnan himself shares this view, according to an MGM executive in a position to know.).

Except nobody cares. The Bond films continue to make money, the lazy perversity of the series seems impermeable and immutable, and everyone I know is looking forward to goofing through the latest installment.

I knew the cultural fix was in once again last week when I came upon what read at first like a quasi-valentine piece about the Bond franchise by the snootily ascerbic NEW YORKER critic Anthony Lane, but which also listed things he feels are wrong or draining or suffocating about the series. I've read it twice and it flounders a bit, but the gist seemed to be that Lane finds the Bond films somehow comforting all the same.

He's right about one thing, at least: the explosive climaxes of Bond films have always been underwhelming, going back to the very first one -- DR. NO -- which came out 40 years ago. "The conundrum of DR. NO, as of all but a handful of the Bond pictures, is as follows," he writes. "How does a film start out as a thriller -- more grounded than outlandish - and wind up as some inflated nonsense about rouge rocketry and the sabotaging of global peace? I know of no moviegoer who finds this transformation remotely cathartic. The only genre that clings to such unsatisfying structures with anything like the same conservatism is the porno flick..."

Roar of the Greasepaint

I'm developing a theory that moviegoers are repulsed when actors (including stars) appear greasy and grimy over the course of a film, especially if one or more is involved in a romantic entanglement. Who wants to kiss a guy who hasn't had a bath in two weeks, or a girl with greenish teeth who wears smelly socks and has dirt under her fingernails?

I can already hear the snide cracks about the shallowness of such a view, but soap and toothpaste are not meaningless elements in movies, any more than they are in real life. I've recently heard a similar seat-of- the-pants reaction about the grimy look of Leonardo DiCaprio and Cameron Diaz in GANGS OF NEW YORK, and I'm starting to wonder if this will be a significant factor in the film's reception.

Not with Scorsese fans or other cineaste types (i.e., the Dave Poland's who are scoffing as they read this), but with mainstream women whose emotional pores are more open to men on either side of the screen who file their nails, brush their teeth and use an effective, long-lasting deodorant than men who eschew such remedies.

I remember hearing this opinion from a savvy female journalist when a large poster for GANGS Of NEW YORK appeared on the side of a building on Cumberland Street during the '01 Toronto Film Festival. She took one look at the images of the two stars -- chunky Leo in his beefy, grungeball mode and Cameron Diaz looking like a frizzy-haired bag lady -- and declared then and there the film would have trouble attracting a sizable audience.

There was a shred of a love story between Jude Law and Rachel Weisz in Jean Jacques Annaud's ENEMY AT THE GATES, but it was hard to find it with all the smoke and grime covering the actors.

George Miller was smart enough to avoid a love-story subplot between the dusty vagabondish Mel Gibson and whomever when he made THE ROAD WARRIOR, but imagine if he hadn't. On second thought, don't think about it.

You'd have to figure after two or three months on the open trail the guys driving all those cattle in Howard Hawks' RED RIVER would stink to high heaven. And yet the romantic scenes between Montgomery Clift and Joanne Dru (which come at the two-thirds mark, by which time Clift's b.o. problem in real life would have been massive) aren't affected by this notion in the slightest. Why is this?

The appeal of movies about homeless people have probably been affected by grime-aversion, to some extent. The scuzziness of David Thewlis' character in Mike Leigh's NAKED, Robin Williams' in THE FISHER KING, etc. Ditto films set in medieval times or any periods before the general availability of bar soap and hot water.

I know how puerile this sounds, believe me, but what other movie columnist would have the chutzpah to float the body-odor issue? If I'm wrong about the GANGS grime anticipation factor, I'd like to hear why. My feet are not set in cement on this subject; it's a theory-in-progress.

Keep sending in those suggestions! Here's the latest batch... One, Two, Three (1961, d: Billy Wilder, w/ Cagney, Buccholz, Tiffin - b&w Scope laser disc out a few years back, but no DVD) If... (1968, d: Lindsay Anderson, w/ McDowell, Wood, Noonan, Warwick. Revolution comes to a British boarding school. McDowell's "Travis" was easily his most charismatic.) Gunga Din (1939, d: George Stevens, w/ McLachlan, Grant, Fairbanks, Jaffe). The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner (1963, d: Tony Richardson, w/ Courtney, Finlay, Redgrave -- my favorite kitchen-sink drama, a slight notch ahead of This Sporting Life) The Ox-Bow Incident (1943), d: William Wellman, w/Fonda, Andrews, Quinn, Morgan, Darwlell). Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948, d: John Huston, w/ Bogart, Holt,Huston - the laser disc that came out in the early '90s looked sharp and clean; DVD could be even better) Shampoo (1974, d: Hal Ashby, w/ Beatty, Christie, Hawn, Warden); The Landlord (1970; d: Hal Ashby, w/ Bridges, Grant, Sands, Anspach); The White Dawn (1975, d: Philip Kaufman, w/ Oates, Bottoms, Gossett, Jr.); Loving (1970, d: Irvin Kershner, w/ Segal, Saint, Hayden, Wynn); Diary of a Mad Housewife (1970, d: Frank Perry, w/ Snodgress, Benjamin, Langella); To Live and Die in LA (1985, d: William Friedkin, w/ Petersen, Dafoe, Pankow); Lilith (1964, d: Robert Rossen, w/ Beatty, Seberg, Fonda, Hackman); The Last Movie (1971, d: Dennis Hopper, w/ Hopper, Adams, Fonda, Kristofferson); Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974, d: Sam Peckinpah, w/ Oates, Vega, Young, Webber). -- Sean Griffin Blow-Up (1966, d: Michelangelo Antonioni, w/ Hemmings, Redgrave, Miles, Birkin); Advise and Consent (1962, d: Otto Preminger, w/ Murray, Laughton, Pidgeon, Ayers); A Hatful of Rain (1957, d: Fred Zinneman,m w/ Murray, Saint, Franciosa, Nolan); In Cold Blood (1967, d: Richard Brooks, w/ Blake, Wilson, Forsythe); Dial M for Mu rder (1954, d: Alfred Hitchcock, w/ Milland, Kelly, Cummings, Williams); Sammy and Ro sie Get Laid (1987, d: Stephen Frears). -- Sean Anderson, Sunnyside, NY Zulu (1964, d: Cy Rendfield, w/ Caine, Hawkins, Baker, Green); The Pawnbroker (1965, d: Sidney Lumet, w/ Steiger, Peters, Fitzgerald, Sanchez). -- J.B. Bowes Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, (1973/ d: Sam Peckinpah, w/ Coburn, Kristofferson, Jura do, Dylan - director's cut, of course) -- Nathan Laird The Quiller Memorandum (1966, d: Michael Anderson, w/ Segal, Guinness, von Sydow, plus a Harold Pinter script. -- Chris Clotworthy Updates : Columbia TriStar Home Entertainment will be releasing a Shampoo DVD on January 21st. The Roan Group has a widescreen DVD out now of Zulu, but MGM, which holds actual pre-print film elements for Zulu, has announced it is working on a disc of this title, and that it may arrive in 2003.

Anyone Got a Copy?

I've been trying to find a VHS of Jonathan Demme's "director's cut" of SWING SHIFT (1984) without success, so I'm now asking out in the open in hopes someone might know where a copy might be found.

Starting up the "Most Wanted DVDs" box a week or so ago brought forth a letter from a reader pining for a chance to see Demme's version of this flawed but interesting World War II-era film on DVD. This apparently isn't in the cards due to Warner Bros. having long ago trashed the footage that would be necessary to reconstitute the Demme film for DVD, but there are apparently copies of an old VHS kicking around, or so I hear.

I was also recently turned onto a 1990 SIGHT AND SOUND article by Steve Vineberg that tells the whole sordid story about the re-cutting of SWING SHIFT by star Goldie Hawn, her producing partner Anthea Sylbert and Warner Bros. Hawn had the film taken away from Demme and re-edited so that her character -- a Rosie-the-riveter type involved in an affair with a fellow worker (Kurt Russell) while her serviceman husband (Ed Harris) is off fighting the Japanese -- would seem more tidily sympathetic to her fans.

"The SWING SHIFT story is a Hollywood tragedy," Vineberg wrote. "It echoes what RKO did to Orson Welles' THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS. The difference is that the AMBERSONS, in release and on video, botched or not, is still a masterpiece. No viewing of the release print of SWING SHIFT, however, will tell you what Demme and his writers were after -- what, in fact, they achieved before their work was so emphatically undone."

Vineberg's reason for writing the piece was that he'd managed to see a copy of Demme's cut of SWING SHIFT, which he called "extraordinary -- one of the best movies made by an American in the 80s.

"Taken together, the two cuts are the most powerful lesson I've ever had in how a first-rate director works," he wrote. "The first thing you notice is the difference Demme's impeccable film sense makes. Stiff and static, the studio cut of SWING SHIFT seems embalmed in the creamy, sunlit haze of Tak Fujimoto's cinematography; the movie dawdles, and the characters (especially Kay) have no apparent forward movement. Demme's cut is the same length but seems to move much faster: his editing gives it a flying density."

In a four year-old interview with Britain's GUARDIAN (10.10.98), Demme was asked if fans might one day have a chance to see his cut of SWING SHIFT.

"You must have read that article in SIGHT AND SOUND," he replied. "That was great! When SWING SHIFT came out the critics universally trashed it, even some of those critics that I particularly admired and even some that I had previously considered almost friends. This motif was running through the reviews: this guy looked as though he had some kind of promise, but looking at this thing, forget about it. And I thought, my God, if my work is bad, then trash me, but this isn't even my work.

"But there was nothing I could say about it. You can't go whining to the press. But then somehow a videotape of the original -- the scripted movie -- found its way over to SIGHT AND SOUND and an article was written saying it was very good the original way. And it went to great pains to enumerate why it was much better than what Warner Brothers had done. But it will never be seen anywhere, because now the videotape's all faded out and the Warner Brothers post-production people trashed all the out takes and our version as soon as I lost control, so you'll just have to take my word for it that it was really something!"

I don't know that we need to. An eighteen year-old video might look faded or washed out, but it would be at least watchable. If anyone knows anyone with a copy, or knows where I can call about finding one, please write.

To The Dogs

If you're a caring gentle soul who loves animals, would you be willing to fork over a fast $3150 for a beauty makeover and a photo session?

This was an issue worth pondering last Friday evening at a combination party and benefit auction for Last Chance for Animals, which this observer attended along with a smiling, gleeful, smartly-dressed throng of what looked to me like fringe industry people. The event was held at Pine Street Furniture in Studio City, which is said to be owned by a friend of George Clooney's.

I didn't see the director and costar of Miramax's CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND in attendance (this is the sole movie-reference aspect in this item), but if I were Clooney, all caught up in last-minute edits and scoring and whatnot, I can imagine having a certain reluctance about attending a gathering of this sort.

Last Chance for Animals is an obviously kind-hearted organization that tries to prevent cruelty to dogs and cats and other pet species through fund-raising and other means. (Their website tries to focus public attention on animal abusers, like the fiendish 24-year-old Charles Benoit of Liberty, Missouri, who barbequed a seven-week-old kitten at a party attended by roughly a dozen friends last July.). But there is something vaguely odious and faintly corroded about an auctioneer who would seriously try to encourage people to part with $3150 in exchange for a makeover and a photo session, even in the spirit of charity.

If you substitute a bullet wound for acute social discomfort, I was feeling a bit like James Mason in ODD MAN OUT as I wandered around the party. But the penultimate moment occurred when I came upon the auction card for this particular proposition, which offered the services of Lynn Rogers, "makeup artist to the stars," and fashion photographer Robert Ferrone.

I was suddenly possessed by a slight sensation of nausea. Presuming a certain tangential relationship between the people behind LCFA and the filmmaking community, or elements that cater to those who make movies, I found myself muttering under my breath, insightfully or otherwise, "This is what's wrong with this town."

Bloody Truth Of It

"I saw BLOODY SUNDAY over the weekend in Pasadena, and all I can say is what a damn shame this film is not in a wider release. It's absolutely extraordinary. I was completely blown away, and the movie is still in my thoughts two days later. It's not a 'fun' film, granted. It's kind of like SCHINDLER'S LIST -- a great film you may never want to see again.

"Comparisons to Black Hawk Down are 100% apt. You're there, you're in the middle of it, you want to go home, and there's no way out. I even picked up the book after the movie, and the film matched very well with the actual photos taken that on that fateful day - January 30, 1972 - when civil-rights marchers in Derby met with British bullets.

"BLOODY SUNDAY and BLACK HAWK DOWN are both very intelligent essays on the limits of military power -- what happens when you use too much of it (as the Brits did in Ireland), or too little (which American forces used too little of, at first). I've always wondered what would have happened in Somalia if Clinton had allowed the use of the AC-130 gunships over Mogadishu. For a long time I wished he had. But now I wonder if the results of such a movie wouldn't have been a lot like what happened in Derry.

"I was also struck by the lack of command and control - which nine times out of ten leads to military disaster -- in both episodes. On the Irish side there was a clear element of youths who were spoiling for a fight. These weren't IRA guys (the book makes it clear the IRA stayed away to avoid a confrontation), but kids full of piss and vinegar looking to prove themselves. The Member of Paraliament played by James Nesbitt was not in control of that crowd, nor could he have been, but maybe if he had clipped off those youths early on, just said stay home, we don't want you.

"Likewise, the British Army had no control over those paratroopers, who seemed to willfully ignore orders and attacked as they damn well pleased. This is primarily why we have Posse Comitatus laws in the U.S., and why the Army wasn't allowed to hunt for the Sniper in the D.C. area, as a lot of people in the area were calling for. Any Army is not a law enforcement body, as much as we would like to pretend otherwise. They are about combat, and their solutions revolve around what they have been trained to do.

"Voters and lawmakers should see this movie before sending our brothers, sisters, sons and daughters off to Iraq...if for no other reason than for them to contemplate the second to last shot in the film, of that incredibly long line of youths picking up their rifles from the IRA in the wake of the shootings. Al Qaeda was going to get a recruitment boost no matter what we did in Afghanistan (and it was absolutely necessary to go in and wipe out them and the Taliban). But if we go into Iraq as well, it will be hundreds if not thousands." -- Malcolm Johnson, Burbank, CA

Bateman's Dad

"It was funny to see A SHOCK TO THE SYSTEM included on your DVD wish list. I think I'm one of the few that actually saw the damn thing in the theater (I was only 13) but even then, Michael Caine's performance as the deviously plotting advertising executive absolutely blew me away.

"A few years later I successfully turned a lot of people onto it who were fans of AMERICAN PSYCHO, since SYSTEM also savages late 80's culture just as effectively, if not more so.

"Unfortunately, I'm not sure how good the chances are of seeing it released in the near future. The theatrical distributor (Corsair) is long out of business, and I believe the video rights were once held by HBO. Since SHOCK hasn't seen any kind of video release since the early 90's, I'm assuming it's in limbo. The original Simon Brett novel is also, regrettably, out of print." - James Hammell

Wilson Stamp

"You wrote in Friday's column that whatever film he's in, Owen Wilson's dialogue 'always seems self-written, to a large degree [since] he's always the same whimsical, vaguely flaky, self-amused personality off on his own beam.'

"This is exactly why I don't like Owen Wilson. He always, always plays the same half-smug, half-spacey, laid-back, laconic white-bread guy. I have no idea why people enjoy his performances. Granted, sometimes he's funny, but can you really differentiate anything from his performances in SHANGHAI NOON, BEHIND ENEMY LINES, MEET THE PARENTS, etc.?

"No matter what film he's in, his credit should always read "Owen Wilson as Owen Wilson." When Chris Rock approaches acting like this, he's generally panned (and rightly so). But for some reason, a lot of people I know think Wilson is great, and I just don't get it." -- Dave Pease

Wells to Pease: I think you're missing the bigger picture here. Owen Wilson is a kind of star because there's never any differentiation -- that's precisely it. He's a constant, a name brand, an attitude. Big movie stars always play the same character, more or less - they play some kind of manifestation of themselves wrapped around some new dialogue and fresh backdrops. They're stars when and if people like their sameness and keep coming back for it, which I think people have been doing with Wilson ever since he broke out with SHANGHAI NOON.

What's That Line?

Eben Price of Dallas, Texas, was first to identify both portions of Friday's dialogue.

The first was from THE GODFATHER PART II (1974 -- directed by Francis Ford Coppola, screenplay by Mario Puzo and Coppola, with Al Pacino as the younger man (Michael Corleone) and Lee Strasberg as the older man (Hyman Roth). The sandwich being offered was tuna.

The second was from BECKET (1964), directed by Peter Glenville, written by Edward Anhalt from the play by Jean Anouilh, with Peter O'Toole as the politician (Henry II) and Pamela Brown as his wife (Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine). The "friend" - Thomas Becket -- is played by Richard Burton.

A bad guy is in shock after discovering that some money entrusted to him by his boss has been stolen. He doesn't know what to do, but is also determined not to play into the hand of a rival. His girlfriend is listening.

Bad Guy: I know what he wants me to do. He wants me out of here. He wants me to run.

Girlfriend watches him, his body rocking against the chair.

Bad Guy: If I run, then everyone will think I took the money and he walks away with two million clean.

The words squeeze out like tears.

Bad Guy: God, I can see him right now driving to get [name]! I can hear him laughing, fucking laughing...laughing at me!

He swings the swivel chair over his head and smashes it down on the desk. Again and again.

Bad Guy: Laughing at me! Laughing at me!

Name the film, the year of release, the director(s), the screenwriter(s), and the actor playing the bad guy.