Although summer belongs to the studios, the real hit this year ought to be an independent film: Sally Potter's adaptation of Virginia Woolf's time- and gender-bending novel, Orlando. This gorgeous, clever, waggish film stars Tilda Swinton, who, with her chiseled face and swiveling eyes, looks like a ravishingly beautiful hamster. As the androgynous blue blood who hurtles through 400 years of British history (including a brief spell as the kept person of Elizabeth I, played by that queen of camp, Quentin Crisp). Swinton turns into a woman just in time to usher in modernity. Juggling the antic energy of a sitcom with an almost painfully lovely choreographed lyricism (Potter was once a dancer and performance artist), Orlando waltzes you through a meditation on gender and property relations, love, death and politics, and some riotously funny lampooning of English manners and fashions down the ages. The acting is great, the music is fabulous, so are the English and Russian locations. What can I say? It's perfect, go see it.