Date: Fri 26-Mar-1999

Publication: Bee

Author: SHANNO

Quick Words:

Playing-Williams-Sciorra

Full Text:

NOW PLAYING: A Few Words On Williams' Latest

By Trey Paul Alexander III

I had every intention of sticking to a review of the country's current,

most-rented video pick, What Dreams May Come , a winner on Oscar’ night for

Best Achievement in Visual Effects, but I must first get a few things off my

chest regarding that infamous night of March 31, the 71st Academy Awards.

(Please humor me in my ranting.)

Why must these awards shows follow the same dreadful path every year?

Foolishly, I thought this year might be different, considering that the Oscars

would be held on a Sunday for the first time in their history. Maybe, with a

potentially greater audience on Sunday as opposed to Monday, the producers

will liven up the show! Maybe, with an earlier start (8:30 pm), the ceremony

won't be allowed to drag but will instead pick up the pace! Maybe, even

without host extraordinaire Billy Crystal at the helm, the show will be full

of pleasant surprises and witty, whimsical moments! Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Maybe some day they'll get it right. but this year they missed the mark by a

long shot (with the operative word being L-O-N-G !). Instead of using the

earlier time to get things finished before dawn, the producers seemed to use

the 8:30 pm opening as carte blanche to elongate the program! The final award,

for Best Picture, wasn't given until approximately four hours after the

ceremony began! Think about it: The Super Bowl is played in less time!

And what did we get for our four hours? We were "treated" to the annual Oscar

torture of choreographer Debbie Allen's gaudy production number of sinewy

dancers prancing around inappropriately to the five Oscar-nominated dramatic

scores. (Savion Glover may be one of the most talented dancers this century

has ever seen, but could someone explain to me why he was tapping to the sober

refrains of The Thin Red Line and Saving Private Ryan ?) We were bombarded by

shoddily-produced film clip montages, many so poorly introduced we had little

idea what we were supposed to be seeing. Even the segments used to showcase

various nominees were clumsily chosen; in some cases viewers must have been

left wondering, "Why in the world did that get nominated??"

It has gotten to the point that the unpredictability of an ebullient Roberto

Benigni, the tearful meanderings of an emotional Gwyneth Paltrow, or the

gleeful, winking playfulness of Jim Carrey can't even make up for the sadly

predictable tackiness of this bloated production (ie, Val Kilmer's walk-on

with "Trigger"). Maybe next year it'll be better. Maybe next year I won't get

my hopes up...

Maybe now I'd better say a few words about What Dreams May Come , a visually

resplendent film that has little of substance to say about the afterlife, but

plenty of imaginative sequences to exhibit. Now available on videotape, this

vision from director Vincent Ward loses a bit on the small screen, but the

breathtaking nature of his vividly colorful vistas still captivates.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about his characters, who are left

chiefly empty when compared to the richly conceived, creative settings.

Robin Williams stars as a family man who dies and goes to Heaven, a place

conceived as a living oil painting based on a canvas created by his soulmate

wife (Annabella Sciorra), who is left behind. When she commits suicide, and

thereby must reside in Hell, What Dreams May Come becomes a metaphysical

rescue movie in which Williams and his heavenly guide (Cuba Gooding, Jr) band

together to seek out her lost soul and bring it back with them to Heaven.

Rated PG-13, What Dreams May Come is worth renting for its fantastic,

splendidly realized visual concepts (indeed, worthy of the Oscar’ the film

received), but its murky, religious potpourri theology and unengrossing, if

fairly sympathetic, characters will likely keep viewers at a distance.