After watching it obsessively for a number of years, I finally broke down and bought it on disc. Its campy to the last - not as specifically or skillfully kittsch as Sleepy Hollow - but more intensely breathtaking in scope. If there is one thing Branagh is doing here that doesn't backfire (unless you truly believe he was trying to make it this as goony as it is), it is to concoct the film's tone and scope as if it were an adventure story - rather than a dull, shocking commentary on science versus nature. That said, some of the performances in the film are quite bright and quite clever. Branagh's melodramatic Victor, Bonham-Carter's girl-next-door sexpot Elizabeth, Hulce's tortured, waifish _______, John Cleese as a brilliant professor on the brink of insanity and of course, who could forget (or for some, forgive) Robert DeNiro's grumbling, disciplined display as the monster himself. In fact, it feels like a balance: whenever Branagh seems entirely ridiculous, DeNiro steps up to the plate and does something cruel and vicious, shaking everyone up. Whenever Bonham-Carter is rambling on for minutes at a time about god knows what, Branagh slips in to melt her self-absorption away. Everything in this film teeters on the edge of being a really interesting failure and a carefully planned bout of ludicrous staging for the sake of shifting the perspective of an over adapted novel. As you can see, I lean towards the latter.

See Notes on this Ten Part, Ten Hour film on this page

Though I feel rather blasphemous for enjoying this film, I must come clean: it is rather uproarious. Jim Carrey's characterization and excessive improvisation as well as an almost hallucinogenic, German Expressionist set (Whoville, I'm saying) make just the right combination for a film that looks and feels more like art than commerce. It almost seems as if the film exists somewhere between marketable comedy and insanely over budgeted experiment. Whatever it is, I shan't complain that its beloved source material is not exactly well represented here. (Case in point: the film is a barrage of marketing ploys, from the excessive merchandising to the long awaited video release date which coincides not so coincidentally with Christmas).

Three and a Half Stars, you say? Because, as ever, Hughes delivers both heart and well-chiseled laughs that most families consider a family heirloom. "Don't knock over our copy of Planes, Trains and Automobiles, it's priceless! Right next to your Great Aunt Margaret's jewels." It's more than the scene in the rental car office. It's also the honest, revealing scene in the bedroom between Martin and Candy. The frantic, cynical race for a cab between Martin and a young Kevin Bacon. It's the sequence where Candy and Martin drive home, singing and grating on each other. And especially, its the moment when Martin realizes that Candy isn't what he appears to be (and that he, Martin, is what he appears to be). And that moment in the foyer of Martin's house at the end, when the word "kindred" seems to burn amidst all. This is a collection of scenes that you either quote or secretly think about, wondering "how did so much wisdom and warmth manage to find its way into this comedy?"

Because fucking Kaleil is hilarious. And many other reasons. Many.

Got the chance to see this on the big screen at the County Theater (alright, it's not exactly a big screen, per se, but it's bigger than my television screen). To precede the screening, a documentary about the various forms and versions of the film was shown. Interesting to watch a film whose definitive version has been doted on and lauded by critics the world over as one of the greatest films of all time - but was never actually seen by the director (who died tragically around the time of the film's release). Everything about this precarious tale of marriage, society and the attitudes of people is beautiful. Its deliciously simplistic for the most part, presenting the strife and little moments that make up a marriage. If we look at the bigger picture, marriage is in fact like the riverboat the characters leap on and off of. It never really stops at one spot, it is eternally changing. Even when it does stop for a while - and stays comfortable - eventually, it is going to change again. The photography is more affecting in a movie theater, too. For a film released in 1934, there is nothing remotely conservative about the look of the film; everything is either artful or honest. One of the best films of all time indeed.

This probably was a terrific movie at conception. The idealistic story of a man who sees both of the lives he could have lived and realizes that he can't ever go back. But as seen through the eyes of Brett Ratner and the Universal script doctors, The Family Man is a tonal nightmare that seems, at every turn, to have been tinkered with. The upbeat ending, the inclusion of that goodbye scene at the opening (that doesn't exactly garner the power we can see the vein in its forehead straining for), the inclusion of Don Cheadle's ridiculous Clarence-esque character (from It's a Wonderful Life, the movie Family Man is clearly patterned after), who not only dips in and out of the story too few times to work as a guide, but who also remains just a bit too ambiguous to be much of a character to begin with. The standout message - which is marred by an ending that just does not go with this film - is that sometimes even the most shallow of lives fit the most shallow of people. Family life is not for everyone, children are not for everyone and the monogamy of marriage is not for everyone. Nicholas Cage, whose charming repore with his world keeps this sub-par effort afloat (even when it gets particularly preachy and obvious), looks the part of a businessman who would call a meeting on Christmas and revel in his money and power. To suddenly introduce the idea that this sort of living isn't right and that, morally, he should be settling down - is almost abominable. The film doesn't shout this message from the rooftop, but it is loud and clear: Success is only success if you've got the 2.5 kids and the white picket fence. I prefer the film that boldly and unconventionally tells the story of a man who realizes that his life is just fine and, the kind of person he is, is not compatible with the kind of life he's glimpsed in a dream. The whole film, by the way, is not a dream sequence that helps a man choose whether or not to call his ex-girlfriend. If you believe that - then you've missed the boat.

As my good friend E. Matt Prigge put it: "Worst use of voice-over ever."