As the journey begins, the voluptuously charming (a precise description) Ruth (Winslet) is overcome by a cult leader called Baba (and the CGI effects that he renders her helpless with, er....that the filmmaker renders her helpless with - either way - the point is strong and clear). Her family, fearing misdirection and corruption, hire PJ Waters (Keitel), introduced to the film in a beautifully surreal scene in which he assists everyone in the airport with baggage carts to the strains of Neil Diamond’s “I am I said”. This, of course, begins the film’s eventual descent from interesting to hollow.

 The plot about the deprogramming, meant as the foundation for a film essentially about role reversal, is far too diluted to stand, even on it’s own - let alone as the basis for what becomes a quirky and repetitiously odd love story. Like a man eager to please himself, the film finishes with it’s really fascinating material almost immediately - and drops it’s plot cargo in vapid land. It’s not that the romance doesn’t hold our attention - it does on the strength of the immaculate performances from both of it’s leads - but it seems so shallow to start something so original and unseen as removal from a cult mindset - and mash the film into merely another battle of the sexes. It appears to be a slow moving “therapy-gone-bonkers” session (and all the ridiculousness that goes with that word choice) that loses it’s way as if programmed by a cult of it’s own - the Jane Campion cult.

 She’s an average filmmaker. Granted, she wrote and directed ‘The Piano’ - so she has some serious talent - but she’s misspending it on stories that are too heavy with agendas conflicting with her means (the plot she uses to drive her point home). Why must her films always have a brooding gang of cronies, fussing about and fogging up the lens with their presence - does Campion realize whom her two lead actors are (not to mention the seemingly endless capabilities of each to surpise and delight us - the audience)? They are masterful performers - and all the more miraculous - giving expert performances with the mediocre material they’re given.

 Winslet, who seems to have an aversion to clothing (In every film I’ve seen her in, save ‘Heavenly Creatures’), is such a strong and enchanting actress. Count me extremely impressed that she continues to dominate in roles that are inherently off the beaten track. One ‘Titanic’ is enough for a lifetime - that’s my understanding. Though ‘Hideous Kinky’ was slow and very, very pretentious; and ‘Jude’, though well-done, was an A-bomb of depression - her performances were the high factor in both films and the ideals keeping me interested. And it’s never more true that she’s a shining light than here in ‘Holy Smoke’.

 So, though overall - this is yet another in Winslet’s repertoire of greatish performances in banal films, and greater still - another of Campion’s films begging the question - “Did she really write and direct the perfect ‘The Piano’”? - and even greater still, this is yet another film where Keitel is nude (take that for whatever you may) - ‘Holy Smoke’ has that ring-a-ding-ding quality that follows a viewing in which bells toll for reality and you thank God all movies aren’t this simple and overstated. Another opportunity to spend your hard-earned money supporting these machines of creativity so that they may someday match their past venues - the ones that put your ass in the seat in the first place. Ah, the vicious cycle of moviegoing.