Wednesday, March 11, 2026
Monday, February 2, 2026
Downhill Racer (1969) [M] ****
A film review by Roger Ebert for Chicago Sun-Times on Dec 22, 1969.
Some of the best moments in Downhill Racer are moments during which nothing special seems to be happening. They’re moments devoted to capturing the angle of a glance, the curve of a smile, an embarrassed silence. Together they form a portrait of a man that is so complete, and so tragic, that Downhill Racer becomes the best movie ever made about sports — without really being about sports at all.
The champions in any field have got to be, to some degree, fanatics. To be the world’s best skier, or swimmer, or chess player, you’ve got to overdevelop that area of your ability while ignoring almost everything else. This is the point we miss when we persist in describing champions as regular, all-round Joes. If they were, they wouldn’t be champions.
This is the kind of man that Downhill Racer is about: David Chappellet, a member of the U.S. skiing team, who fully experiences his humanity only in the exhilaration of winning. The rest of the time, he’s a strangely cut-off person, incapable of feeling anything very deeply, incapable of communicating with anyone, incapable of love, incapable (even) of being very interesting.
Robert Redford plays this person very well, even though it must have been difficult for Redford to contain his own personality within such a limited character. He plays a man who does nothing well except ski downhill — and does that better than anyone.
But this isn’t one of those rags-to-riches collections of sports clichés, about the kid who fights his way up to champion. It’s closer in tone to the stories of the real champions of our time: Sandy Koufax, Muhammad Ali, Joe Namath, who were the best and knew they were the best and made no effort to mask their arrogance. There is no humility at all in the racer’s character: Not that there should be. At one point, he’s accused by a fellow American of not being a good team man. Another skier replies: Well, this isn’t exactly a team sport.
It isn’t; downhill racing is an intensely individual sport, and we feel that through some remarkable color photography. More often than not, races are shot from the racer’s point of view, and there are long takes that nearly produce vertigo as we hurtle down a mountain. Without bothering to explain much of the technical aspect of skiing, Downhill Racer tells us more about the sport than we imagined a movie could.
The joy of these action sequences is counterpointed by the daily life of the ski amateur. There are the anonymous hotel rooms, one after another, and the deadening continual contact with the team members, and the efforts of the coach (Gene Hackman in a superb performance) to hold the team together and placate its financial backers in New York.
And there is Chappellet’s casual affair with Carole Stahl (Camilla Sparv), who seems to be a sort of ski groupie. She wants to make love to him, and does, but he is so limited, so incapable of understanding her or anything beyond his own image, that she drops him. He never does quite understand why.
The movie balances nicely between this level, and the exuberance of its outdoor location photography. And it does a skillful job of involving us in the competition without really being a movie about competition. In the end, Downhill Racer succeeds so well that instead of wondering whether the hero will win the Olympic race, we want to see what will happen to him if he does. [Ebert's rating:4 stars out of 4]
Blogger's note: When you watch the film you will notice that in German ski racing, in the starting countdown (... three, two, one) the term zwo is used, instead of zwei, for the number two, as in drei, zwo, eins. This is a specific safety measure, designed to insure that zwei (two) is not misheard as drei (three).
Labels: drama, Robert Redford, romance, sport
IMDb 63/100
Metacritic (critics=89, viewers=74)
RottenTomatoes (critics=85, viewers=57)
Blu-ray
Roger Ebert's original review
Bridgerton (Season 4 - 2026) [TV-MA] ****
Lady Violet Bridgerton (Ruth Gemmell) is hosting the first ball of the season, and it is a masquerade. Her second son, Benedict (Luke Thompson) attends, meets and falls for a lovely young woman, but she leaves before the midnight unmasking, and refuses to give him her name. So, in Cinderella and the Prince fashion, he begins to search the kingdom for her, having only her glove to identify her.
It turns out that the young woman is Sophie Baek (Yerin Ha), a maid in the household of her stepmother and her two daughters. When her stepmother discovers that Sophie has attended the ball uninvited and in her gown and slippers, she is thrown out of the house.
By coincidence Benedict finds her working at the Cavender estate, rescues her, and eventually brings her to the Bridgerton London home where he prevails upon his mother to hire her, still not realizing she is the young woman he fell for at the masked ball.
The chemistry between Luke Thompson and Yerin Ha is palpable, and of course there are the obligatory twists and turns, but there is a positive ending to this love match. In fact I would rank season four with Benedict and Sophie as engaging and as satisfying as season two with Anthony (Jonathan Bailey) and Kathani (Simone Ashley).
The chemistry between Luke Thompson and Yerin Ha is palpable, and of course there are the obligatory twists and turns, but there is a positive ending to this love match. In fact I would rank season four with Benedict and Sophie as engaging and as satisfying as season two with Anthony (Jonathan Bailey) and Kathani (Simone Ashley).
Tuesday, January 27, 2026
Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale (2025) [PG] ****
A film review by James Berardinelli for ReelViews.net on Sept 11, 2025.
Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale, like 2019’s Downton Abbey and its 2022 sequel Downton Abbey: A New Era, is comfort food for fans. And there are plenty of them: an estimated 120 million viewers worldwide regularly watched the TV series at its peak. Of course, not everyone who tuned in during 2013 is likely to head to a theater a decade later to revisit these characters, but there remain enough devoted followers to have made the previous two films successful (even though the second earned only about half as much as the first).
Current thinking is that this will be the final Downton Abbey feature—at least, that’s what the title suggests. Then again, the same claim was made after A New Era, so whether this truly is the last dance for these beloved characters will depend on two things: how well the film performs at the box office and whether enough of the cast and crew are willing to reunite once more.
The downside of leaning so heavily on fan service is that it inevitably shuts out a broader audience. There is no conceivable reason why anyone unfamiliar with Downton Abbey would choose to see this film—and if they did, they would likely drift into sleep from a mix of confusion and boredom. The lightweight narrative all but demands prior familiarity. It is, at heart, a hangout movie for the Upstairs, Downstairs crowd. To its credit, the storyline is better tailored to the characters than that of A New Era, but there is only so much that can be accomplished in a two-hour runtime. The big screen is not the ideal format for these figures; they require time and space to let their arcs unfold. If Downton Abbey is to continue, a new television series would be a far better option than a fourth film.
With the exception of the late Violet Crawley (played by the late Dame Maggie Smith) and the absent Henry Talbot (Matthew Goode), Lady Mary’s (Michelle Dockery) no-good husband, most of the familiar TV and film regulars return—though some enjoy meatier roles than others. The two-pronged narrative focuses on the Crawley family’s financial struggles following the 1929 stock market crash and Lady Mary’s difficulties as a social pariah after her divorce from Henry. Among the upstairs contingent are Robert Crawley (Hugh Bonneville), his wife, Cora (Elizabeth McGovern), their daughter, Edith (Laura Carmichael), with her husband Bertie (Harry Hadden-Paton), son-in-law Tom Branson (Allen Leech), and Mary’s former mother-in-law, Isobel (Penelope Wilton). Downstairs, the ensemble includes the formidable butler Charlie Carson (Jim Carter), lady’s maids Phyllis Baxter (Raquel Cassidy) and Anna Bates (Joanne Froggatt), valet John Bates (Brendan Coyle), housekeeper Elsie Hughes (Phyllis Logan), and cooks Beryl Patmore (Lesley Nicol) and Daisy Parker (Sophie McShera). Also joining the cast are Paul Giamatti, reprising his role from the series as Cora’s brother, Dominic West (from A New Era), and newcomers Alessandro Nivola (as American Gus Sambrook), Joely Richardson (as Lady Petersfield), and Arty Fruoushan (as Noel Coward).
There isn’t a great deal to say about The Grand Finale. The dialogue no longer crackles the way it once did, a shortcoming that can largely be attributed to the absence of Maggie Smith, who consistently had the best lines and delivered them with just the right amount of vinegar. Smith, who was granted the chance to portray Violet’s on-screen death in A New Era before her own passing in 2024, is sorely missed—even if a prominently displayed portrait gives her character a lingering presence.
As much as screenwriter and series creator Julian Fellowes tries to provide every character with a reason to appear, many are reduced to little more than a handful of lines before they enter stage right and exit stage left. Only Mary, Robert, Cora, and Edith are afforded truly substantial roles. Michelle Dockery and Hugh Bonneville both shine, as does Jim Carter, even in a scaled-back performance. Paul Giamatti is a welcome presence, contributing a healthy dose of comedic relief, while Alessandro Nivola is deliciously smarmy in his turn.
Having seen every episode of the six-season TV series and both films, I’m ready to let go. The movies, though never narrative masterpieces, have fulfilled their purpose: they’ve given fans the chance to reconnect with beloved characters while offering nearly everyone on-screen a sense of closure. Could the story continue? Certainly. But in many ways, that would be a shame. While there is some appeal in exploring how these characters might navigate the Great Depression and the approach of the Second World War, such arcs could never be properly developed within the confines of a feature film. The Grand Finale should be what its title promises: an elegant farewell. [Berardinelli's rating: 2.5 stars out of 4]
Labels: drama, period
Current thinking is that this will be the final Downton Abbey feature—at least, that’s what the title suggests. Then again, the same claim was made after A New Era, so whether this truly is the last dance for these beloved characters will depend on two things: how well the film performs at the box office and whether enough of the cast and crew are willing to reunite once more.
The downside of leaning so heavily on fan service is that it inevitably shuts out a broader audience. There is no conceivable reason why anyone unfamiliar with Downton Abbey would choose to see this film—and if they did, they would likely drift into sleep from a mix of confusion and boredom. The lightweight narrative all but demands prior familiarity. It is, at heart, a hangout movie for the Upstairs, Downstairs crowd. To its credit, the storyline is better tailored to the characters than that of A New Era, but there is only so much that can be accomplished in a two-hour runtime. The big screen is not the ideal format for these figures; they require time and space to let their arcs unfold. If Downton Abbey is to continue, a new television series would be a far better option than a fourth film.
With the exception of the late Violet Crawley (played by the late Dame Maggie Smith) and the absent Henry Talbot (Matthew Goode), Lady Mary’s (Michelle Dockery) no-good husband, most of the familiar TV and film regulars return—though some enjoy meatier roles than others. The two-pronged narrative focuses on the Crawley family’s financial struggles following the 1929 stock market crash and Lady Mary’s difficulties as a social pariah after her divorce from Henry. Among the upstairs contingent are Robert Crawley (Hugh Bonneville), his wife, Cora (Elizabeth McGovern), their daughter, Edith (Laura Carmichael), with her husband Bertie (Harry Hadden-Paton), son-in-law Tom Branson (Allen Leech), and Mary’s former mother-in-law, Isobel (Penelope Wilton). Downstairs, the ensemble includes the formidable butler Charlie Carson (Jim Carter), lady’s maids Phyllis Baxter (Raquel Cassidy) and Anna Bates (Joanne Froggatt), valet John Bates (Brendan Coyle), housekeeper Elsie Hughes (Phyllis Logan), and cooks Beryl Patmore (Lesley Nicol) and Daisy Parker (Sophie McShera). Also joining the cast are Paul Giamatti, reprising his role from the series as Cora’s brother, Dominic West (from A New Era), and newcomers Alessandro Nivola (as American Gus Sambrook), Joely Richardson (as Lady Petersfield), and Arty Fruoushan (as Noel Coward).
There isn’t a great deal to say about The Grand Finale. The dialogue no longer crackles the way it once did, a shortcoming that can largely be attributed to the absence of Maggie Smith, who consistently had the best lines and delivered them with just the right amount of vinegar. Smith, who was granted the chance to portray Violet’s on-screen death in A New Era before her own passing in 2024, is sorely missed—even if a prominently displayed portrait gives her character a lingering presence.
As much as screenwriter and series creator Julian Fellowes tries to provide every character with a reason to appear, many are reduced to little more than a handful of lines before they enter stage right and exit stage left. Only Mary, Robert, Cora, and Edith are afforded truly substantial roles. Michelle Dockery and Hugh Bonneville both shine, as does Jim Carter, even in a scaled-back performance. Paul Giamatti is a welcome presence, contributing a healthy dose of comedic relief, while Alessandro Nivola is deliciously smarmy in his turn.
Having seen every episode of the six-season TV series and both films, I’m ready to let go. The movies, though never narrative masterpieces, have fulfilled their purpose: they’ve given fans the chance to reconnect with beloved characters while offering nearly everyone on-screen a sense of closure. Could the story continue? Certainly. But in many ways, that would be a shame. While there is some appeal in exploring how these characters might navigate the Great Depression and the approach of the Second World War, such arcs could never be properly developed within the confines of a feature film. The Grand Finale should be what its title promises: an elegant farewell. [Berardinelli's rating: 2.5 stars out of 4]
Labels: drama, period
Flashdance (1983) [R] ***
A film review by Roger Ebert for rogerebert.com on April 19, 1983.
I have a friend who has a simple test for a movie: Is this movie as interesting as the same things would be, happening in real life? A lot of movies aren’t, and Flashdance sure isn’t. If this movie had spent just a little more effort getting to know the heroine of its story, and a little less time trying to rip off Saturday Night Fever, it might have been a much better film.
My friend’s simple test applies to this movie in another way: The movie is not as interesting as the real-life story of Jennifer Beals, the young Chicago actress who stars in it. Beals graduated a year ago from Francis Parker School. She already had launched a career as a model (covers on Town & Country and Vogue), after being discovered by Chicago super-photographer Victor Skrebneski. She enrolled in Yale, took some acting classes in New York, went to an audition, and won this role
The irony is that her story, simply and directly told, might have been a lot more interesting than the story of Flashdance, which is so loaded down with artificial screenplay contrivances and flashy production numbers that it’s waterlogged. This is one of those movies that goes for a slice of life and ends up with three pies.
Jennifer Beals plays Alex, an 18-year-old who is a welder by day, and a go-go dancer by night, and dreams of being a ballet star, and falls in love with the Porsche-driving boss of the construction company, played by Michael Nouri.
These are a lot of character details even if she didn’t also have a saintly old woman (Lilia Skala) as a mentor, a big slobbering dog as a friend, a bicycle she rides all over Pittsburgh, a loft the size of a sweatshop, a friend who ice skates (Sunny Johnson), and the ability to take off her bra without removing her sweatshirt. This poor kid is so busy performing the pieces of business supplied to her by the manic screenwriters that she never gets a chance to develop a character.
Meanwhile, the movie has a disconcerting way of getting sidetracked with big dance scenes. The heroine works in the most improbable working-class bar ever put on film, a joint named Mawby’s that has a clientele out of the Miller’s TV ads, stage lighting reminiscent of Vegas, go-go dancers who change their expensive costumes every night and put on punk rock extravaganzas and never take off all their clothes and never get shouted at by the customers for not doing so.
Flashdance is like a movie that won a free 90-minute shopping spree in the Hollywood supermarket. The director, Adrian Lyne, and his collaborators race crazily down the aisles, grabbing a piece of Saturday Night Fever, a slice of Urban Cowboy, a quart of Marty and a box of Archie Bunker’s Place. The result is great sound and flashdance, signifying nothing. But Jennifer Beals shouldn’t feel bad. She is a natural talent, she is fresh and engaging here, and only needs to find an agent with a natural talent for turning down scripts. [Ebert's rating: 1.5 stars out of 4 =37.5%]
Labels: drama, music, romance
IMDb 62/100
MetaCritic (critics=39, viewers=67)
RottenTomatoes (critics=37, viewers=61)
Blu-ray
My friend’s simple test applies to this movie in another way: The movie is not as interesting as the real-life story of Jennifer Beals, the young Chicago actress who stars in it. Beals graduated a year ago from Francis Parker School. She already had launched a career as a model (covers on Town & Country and Vogue), after being discovered by Chicago super-photographer Victor Skrebneski. She enrolled in Yale, took some acting classes in New York, went to an audition, and won this role
The irony is that her story, simply and directly told, might have been a lot more interesting than the story of Flashdance, which is so loaded down with artificial screenplay contrivances and flashy production numbers that it’s waterlogged. This is one of those movies that goes for a slice of life and ends up with three pies.
Jennifer Beals plays Alex, an 18-year-old who is a welder by day, and a go-go dancer by night, and dreams of being a ballet star, and falls in love with the Porsche-driving boss of the construction company, played by Michael Nouri.
These are a lot of character details even if she didn’t also have a saintly old woman (Lilia Skala) as a mentor, a big slobbering dog as a friend, a bicycle she rides all over Pittsburgh, a loft the size of a sweatshop, a friend who ice skates (Sunny Johnson), and the ability to take off her bra without removing her sweatshirt. This poor kid is so busy performing the pieces of business supplied to her by the manic screenwriters that she never gets a chance to develop a character.
Meanwhile, the movie has a disconcerting way of getting sidetracked with big dance scenes. The heroine works in the most improbable working-class bar ever put on film, a joint named Mawby’s that has a clientele out of the Miller’s TV ads, stage lighting reminiscent of Vegas, go-go dancers who change their expensive costumes every night and put on punk rock extravaganzas and never take off all their clothes and never get shouted at by the customers for not doing so.
Flashdance is like a movie that won a free 90-minute shopping spree in the Hollywood supermarket. The director, Adrian Lyne, and his collaborators race crazily down the aisles, grabbing a piece of Saturday Night Fever, a slice of Urban Cowboy, a quart of Marty and a box of Archie Bunker’s Place. The result is great sound and flashdance, signifying nothing. But Jennifer Beals shouldn’t feel bad. She is a natural talent, she is fresh and engaging here, and only needs to find an agent with a natural talent for turning down scripts. [Ebert's rating: 1.5 stars out of 4 =37.5%]
Labels: drama, music, romance
IMDb 62/100
MetaCritic (critics=39, viewers=67)
RottenTomatoes (critics=37, viewers=61)
Blu-ray
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)