The first words that came out my mouth this afternoon as I watched the closing credits of Todd Field's Little Children were "very interesting." It's a wee bit cold and a little bit strange, but it's also a very poised (i.e., stylized but not overly so), carefully composed art film -- and as such it has my complete respect. That sounds like I'm holding back, doesn't it? I'm not trying to. I just don't know how else to put it.

It's less naturalistically moving than Fields' In The Bedroom, but then it's a step up from that film -- Fields isn't trying for similar moods and tones. It's certainly one of the most impressive suburban malaise films I've ever seen, in part because the feelings of dread are constant and unnerving. Every step of the way you're thinking, "Something really bad might happen here."

This is not a film looking to warm anyone's heart -- that's for sure. And yet it brings compassion and insight and exquisite humor to its story, which is based on a novel by Tom Perrotta (who also wrote Election), who co-scripted with Fields. It's a story about characters and situations that I partly recognize and certainly believe in -- and almost every one seriously handicapped in one way or another.

Little Children may be better than I'm able to give it credit for right now, three hours after seeing it at the Varsity. I know I've not seen anything like it in a long, long while. It's immensely satisfying and pleasurable to watch a film as ambitious and precise as this, and yet it's not a soother. This said, I'm not sure if it's an Oscar derby movie or not. I can see how some might find it too queer for their tastes, and I can see some being excited --- turned on -- by its separate-ness.

This is a film about emotionally arrested adults -- 30- and 40-somethings who desperately need to live in their own private dreamspaces, and hang the consequences.

I really loved the perfectly phrased narration (read by Will Lyman), which reminds me somewhat of the dry, sardonic narration in Stanley Kubrick's Barry Lyndon. The turn-off element, I suspect, will be the sex-offender character (played by Jackie Earle Haley). He's a sad, self-torturing, pathetic, very real person -- a character I'm not likely to forget. Kudos to Earle for bringing something (don't know what exactly) really fascinating to it.

Kate Winslet's performance, it seems to me, is a near-lock for a Best Actress nom, and I was totally knocked out by how good Patrick Wilson is -- it's the best thing he's ever done so far, and I'm including his superb acting in in Mike Nichols' Angels Over America. Jennifer Connelly also, I feel, outdoes herself here.

If nothing else, this is a fascinating things-are-fucked-up-in-surburbia movie. Everyone needs to see it and chew it over. I plan on seeing it at least another couple of times.

Yeah, the marketing for All The King's Men has been non-existant, a telling sign for such a caliber of cast this close to release.

"A Good Year" marks an experimental venture by director Ridley Scott and star Russell Crowe into romantic comedy with slapstick touches. It's always commendable for talented artists to flex different muscles and try new things. But from the looks of this movie, comedy is the forte of neither man. You sense in every frame the strain to be lighthearted. Consequently, "A Good Year" is at times downright clumsy. You know what the filmmakers are trying to achieve and see the labor going into the attempt, but for them to fall so short is unsettling.

A light rose from Ridley Scott compared to the hefty cabernets he usually turns out, "A Good Year" is a divertissement, an excuse for the filmmakers and cast to enjoy a couple of months in Provence and for the audience, by proxy, to spend a couple of hours there. A simple repast consisting of sometimes strained slapsticky comedy, a sweet romance and a life lesson learned, this little picnic doesn't amount to much but goes down easily enough to generate OK B.O. returns.

A Good Year is not exactly firing out of gate after receiving a negative review from Hollywood Reporter and only a mild positive from Variety:





I think we can safely remove it from contender list.

Miami Herald critic Rene Rodriguez has seen Martin Scorsese's The Departed here in Toronto, and he's calling it "class-A pulp...grave, resonant, psychologically complex and acted to the skies."

And that's not all: "Anyone who's been waiting for Scorsese to return to form after the Oscar-baiting turgidness of The Aviator and Gangs of New York won't be disappointed," he's written. "This is Scorsese's best and most invigorating work since the underrated Casino, if not GoodFellas, as well as his most sheerly entertaining."

If Rodriguez is on the money, then what is Warner Bros. publicity's problem? They've got something that allegedly works on a feisty-pulpy crime-movie level and yet they send out signals left and right that it's got issues, that they're concerned about reactions (as indicated by a clear reluctance to show it), that "it's not a festival movie," etc.?

Rodriguez's view is just the first word and he may end up 180 degrees apart from the eventual general consensus (or not), but if he's right WB publicity has created a totally unnecessary neg-head smokescreen about this film.

If on the other hand what Rodriguez is saying appears in hindsight to have been a bit too breathless, then what WB has been doing makes sense...I guess....but this is becoming more and more fascinating by the minute.

Familiarity - it's a word that can be used in many ways when describing films and film festivals. For example, during festival week, celebrities can be seen wandering the streets along Bloor Street between the Park Hyatt Hotel and the Varsity Cinemas. The more familiar they are, the more attention they attract. A relatively unknown Korean or Ukranian actor may pass unnoticed. A B-level American/Canadian/Australian/British actor may cause a few double-takes and attract some autograph seekers. However, a bona fide star can create such large crowds that they spill out into the street and literally stop traffic. Such was the case over the weekend with Brad Pitt. The crush was so bad that I was forced to cross the street in order to make my way to my next screening. Some time, I'm going to write about the cult of celebrity and how it turns normal, rational people into gawking, vacant-eyed zombies. But that's for the future.

The desire for familiarity in movies can lead to sequels and re-makes, but that doesn't always have to be the case. It can also mean the use of storyline that everyone sitting in the theater knows. That brings us to today's lead-off movie. A Good Year is a respectable retelling of the "back to nature" story, in which a selfish individual becomed seduced and saved by a pastoral setting and a pretty woman who lives there. Sound familiar? Although there's nothing surprising in Ridley Scott's version, gorgeous photography and strong acting keep the formula from becoming stale. For those who don't mind pictures that fall into predictable rhythms, A Good Year represents a pleasant diversion.

Scott is a director who feels equally at home filming epics and smaller character-based dramas. A Good Year is an example of the latter. After the disappointment of Kingdom of Heaven (which was re-edited into something far more powerful on DVD: Kingdom of Heaven: Director's Cut), Scott wanted something lighter - an easy shoot in a idyllic location. The result is a mix of Sideways' man-meets-wine infatuation and the Diane Lane endeavor, Under the Tuscan Sun. There's also a romance between a big city foreigner and a local girl that has been done more times than I can count. At least there's some originality in the way they meet, as well as a cautionary note about standing on diving boards extending over empty pools.

Max Skinner (Russell Crowe) is a financial whiz based in London. He's a self-proclaimed "greedy bastard," but that may be giving him too much credit for showing traits ascribed to human beings. His specialty is making money by screwing over others. In fact, therein lies his only real talent. Take away his high-pressure world, and he's lost. One day, he receives word that his once-beloved uncle Henry (Albert Finney) has popped the cork on his final bottle of wine. Because there was no will, Max, as his closest living relative, inherits his entire French estate, which includes a dilapidated villa and a huge vineyard. Max's intention is to unload it as quickly as possible, for the best price he can get, so he travels to France to put things in order. There, assailed by memories of summers past (cue the flashbacks) and beguiled by the beauty of fiesty Fanny (Marion Cotillard), he begins to lose his focus. Enter Kristy (Australian Abbie Cornish, doing a flawless American accent), Henry's illegitimate daughter, whose appearance introduces a new wrinkle - not only about the future of the vineyard but about Max's standing as a man with no family.

Russell Crowe's bad-boy reputation serves him well in establishing Max as a jerk. The transformation to a younger version of Henry is believable because it happens gradually. (One could argue that making that statement gives something away about how the movie ends, but is there really any doubt?) There's a connection between Crowe and co-star Marion Cotillard, allowing us to accept this relationship. Their scenes together are some of the best in the movie. Albert Finney is in top form in the small but crucual role of Max's childhood mentor, whose lessons haven't been forgotten, just buried.

As with all films that are ultimately about redemption, the protagonist must first be established as someone in need of saving, then as someone worth saving. Scott accomplishes the first aim with the scenes of Max in London, coldly driving down the price of a stock by selling, then buying when it's at the bottom. The second objective is achieved via the sun-dappled flashbacks. Redemption comes from two sources: the love of the land and the love of a woman. It's nice to know that, even in a movie that fits the formula to a "T", Scott can get us to care about the characters and forget (if only momentarily) that we know how everything is going to turn out.

Candy is an Australian film that also offers a huge portion of familiarity. It's one of those drugs-are-hell movies that follows the time-tested path of watching two generally likable characters embark upon the road to self-destruction that results when recreational drug use tips over the edge into addiction. There are two things the bleak Candy has going for it: the characters are more self-aware than in most similar films (there's no denial - they're junkies and they know it) and the acting couldn't be better. Heath Ledger is as good as he has ever been, Geoffrey Rush is his usual reliable self, and Abbie Cornish is a dynamo. (Cornish, by the way, plays a lot different part than the one she essays in A Good Year.) The movie, from Aussie director Neil Armfield, states its thesis early, and sticks to it: "When you can stop [drug use], you don't want to. When you want to, you can't."

Poet Dan (Ledger) and painter Candy (Cornish) are living a carefree life as young lovers, despite the disapproval of her parents, who think Dan is a loser. They don't make much money, so they live off love - and heroin. It doesn't take long before the drugs become their driving motivation for getting up in the morning. At first, they borrow money to buy the drugs, then they resort to pawning just about everything they own. Finally, Abby ventures into prostitution and Dan starts stealing and scamming. Her pregnancy encourages them to get serious about quitting but, without the necessary aid from an outside source, they are doomed to failure before they start.

Ledger and Cornish are so good it's possible to forget the familiarity of the script. These are two tragic characters traped in a decaying orbit. They do the same things repeatedly, every time with less precision. The movie is divided into three acts, each of which is titled: "Heaven," "Earth," and "Hell." The first title is misleading; even before "Heaven" is over, the fall from grace has begun. Abby has sold her body for a bag of smack that turns out to be baby powder.

As is typical for movies of this sort, Candy is not a happy viewing experience. It in no way glamorizes drugs; quite the opposite, in fact. Although it tries to provide a glimpse of the upside that leads to addiction, it doesn't do so with much success. This is all about the collapse. Those hoping for new insight won't find it here. There's nothing in Candy that can't be found in better, more gut-wrenching offerings, such as Requiem for a Dream. Despite being well made and supremely acted, Candy is a true feel-bad experience.

When it comes to familarity by way of re-makes, there's nothing more high-profile than All the King's Men, a new version of the 1949 film of the same name. In actuality, writer/director Steven Zaillian claims not to have based this on the earlier movie, preferring instead to return to the original source material. Robert Penn Warren's Pulitzer Prize winning novel All the King's Men is a loosely fictionalized account of the rise and fall of Louisiana governor Huey Long. Regardless of what inspired the screenplay, it's a bad fit. All the King's Men is a patchwork of poor choices and uneven results, the most obvious of which is its pacing. With inappropriate flash-forwards and badly placed flashbacks, All the King's Men lurches unsteadily forward amidst variable performances and impressive cinematography.

All the King's Men follows the rise to prominece of the "governor of the people", Willie Stark (Sean Penn), who wins the governorship of Louisiana in the early 1950s by a landslide victory. His pro-education, anti-business agenda earns him some powerful enemies, and charges of cronyism and corruption abound. Despite starting his political career as an idealist, Stark has become a ruthless politician, using blackmail and other forms of coercion to crush his enemies. His right-hand man is former journalist Jack Burden (Jude Law), who comes from money and is torn between supporting his friend and betraying his roots. Stark's most dangerous enemy is Judge Irwin (Anthony Hopkins), who is Jack's godfather and refuses to bend when Stark attacks. Also in the mix are Jack's former flame, Anne Stanton (Kate Winslet), and her brother, Adam (Mark Ruffalo). Anne's closeness to Stark deals a blow to Jack.

I have heard it said that Sean Penn delivers a great performance as Stanton, but that impression is in error. Channeling the pulpit-pounding essence of Jonathan Edwards, Penn spits fire and brimstone in one of the most laughably over-the-top portrayals of his career. With the exception of I am Sam, I have never been embarrassed by one of the actor's performances until now. Penn's work is so one-dimensional and cartoonish that there's no hope of Stark becoming more than a blustering caricature. Adding to the probem is that Jack, the character at the film's emotional core, has no personality. Jude Law underplays the role, leaving us with a personality void. Kate Winslet's contribution is negligible. Only Anthony Hopkins emerges unscathed. The few scenes in which he participates are virtually the only ones in All the King's Men that ring with any degree of authenticity or urgency.

Although structure and tone are two of the movie's most glaring problems, there is another serious flaw. The relationship between Jack and Anne is inadequately developed. Since this is the fulcrum upon which many subplots rest, the cavalier manner in which it is presented (primarly through a bunch of throw-away flashbacks) is indefensible. It undercuts too much of the film's potential power. Further damage is done by a nattering voiceover narrative that quickly becomes annoying, although hardly more so than the overly melodramatic score contributed by James Horner. The only technical aspect worth singling out for praise is Pawel Edelman's cinematography. All the King's Men looks consistenly great (although I could have done without the black-and-white directorial "flourish" employed during the climactic scene).

Part of the underlying problem with All the King's Men is the inherent difficulty of adapating such a complex novel into a screenplay of reasonable length. (The 1949 film suffered from some of the same problems.) As good a writer as Zaillian is, the task is beyond him. There are some very good scenes (the key interaction between Jack and Judge Irwin is compelling), but the overall story feels paradoxically both rushed and overlong. Those familiar with the novel will undoubtedly agree that reading it is a more satisfying experience than watching this disappointing film. One expects more - much more, in fact - with cast of this caliber.

What movies so far are emerging with almost only positive reactions?

Little Miss Sunshine
United 93
Babel
Volver
The Queen
Bobby (?)

Somewhat mixed

The Fountain
The Departed
The Good Shepherd

Mostly negative

All the King's Men
Marie Antoinette

Am I forgetting anything?

Dreamgirls and Eastwood's films are yet to be seen. Not sure if there are any reports on The Good German and Running with Scissors.

Children of Men won't get anywhere with the Oscars

One of the ways in which a film festival's success can be judged is by how many screenings it sells out. When I made my first trip here in 1997, Toronto would routinely sell out about 50% of its screenings. Most of the Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday shows would be standby-only, but you could pretty much walk up and by a ticket to any weekday movie, even high-profile ones being shown in the evenings. How things have changed.

I walk past the festival box office daily. Outside, there's a giant reproduction of the festival schedule. Every sold-out show has a yellow dot placed next to the title. Today, I noticed that well over 80% of those titles had yellow dots. The exceptions fell into two categories: obscure titles and movies being shown in HUGE venues (2000+ seats). Weekend walk-ups are as impossible as they were ten years ago, but that has now extended to many weeknights and even weekday afternoon screenings. It's becoming increasingly less feasible to simply show up at the festival and "impulse buy." That's still a possible way to go if you don't mind an eclectic schedule and don't care whether you see any "favorites" or not. However, if you want to be able to plan your schedule and get into a few high profile movies, you're going to have to purchase ahead.

Toronto is the second largest film festival in the world, and the largest that genuinely opens its doors to regular customers. (Cannes, which is #1, has become exclusive.) Patrons have responded, making the festival a bigger and more popular event every year. Based on random questioning of festival-goers, between 2/3 and 3/4 are from Toronto, many who are here at the university. The rest are film lovers from all across North America and even around the world. The number of sell-outs are troubling for some regular Toronto citizens who claim they can't do what they used to be able to do: go to a theater, buy a ticket, and be able to say they saw something at the film festival. I can sympathize with them, but the reality is that more sellouts equals more money and greater prestige and, in the long run, this can only be a good thing. Already, this year's film roster represents one of the best in the last ten years, easily topping what was offered in 2004 or 2005. So bring on more yellow dots!

Today's movie discussion will start with one of the most anticipated releases of the upcoming 2006 holiday season. I am referring to the latest offering from Mexican director Guillermo del Toro, whose previous credits include The Devil's Backbone, Blade 2, and Hellboy. With Pan's Labyrinth, del Toro takes us into a world that infuses gothic fantasy elements into the real-life horrors of the second World War. Set in Spain during the days immediately before and after D-Day, the movie provides a window into the mind of a young girl who seeks escape from a life that features a cruel stepfather and a mother whose difficult pregnancy is killing her. But is this girl's method of escape a portal into another reality or is it a conjuration of her fairy tale obsessed imagination?

Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) isn't just having a bad day, she's having a bad life. Her country is war-torn with the fascist government battling the rebel maquis. Her father has died, a victim of the fighting. Her mother (Ariadna Gil), alone and unprotected, was forced to marry the vicious Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez) and conceive his child. She is now nearing full term, but it is a diffucult pregnancy and it is killing her. The potential of being left alone in the world with Vidal is enough to turn Ofelia's blood to ice. One day, while exploring the terrain around her new rural home, she discovers an ancient labyrinth made out of huge slabs of rock. Within live creatures of myth: faires and fauns. Ofelia learns an amazing thing: she is the long-lost princess, the daughter of the King of the Underworld. To prove her worthiness of this title, she must complete three tasks set out for her by the faun Pan (Doug Jones). If they are done before the next full moon, she will be welcomed into her kingdom.

Perhaps the film's greatest asset is the way in which it interweaves Ofelia's quests with the tale of the Spanish resistance fighters. Both are equally compelling. When one story is being told, we are sufficiently involved that we aren't anxious to return to the other. This is an achievement. Many films with "split personalities" invest all their creative energy into one aspect of the story, causing the other one to founder and feel obligatory.

The set design and special effects, which go hand-in-hand, are impressive. The gloom of the labyrinth, with its crumbling stone structures, permeates the outside world. (Or should that be the other way around?) I used the word "gothic" earlier, and it's an apt descriptor of how the entire film feels. CGI effects are used in creating the fairies, the faun, and a few other creatures. By not overusing them and overwhelming us, del Toro prevents Pan's Labyrinth from seeming to have been assembled on a computer. His actors, especially young Ivan Baquero and Sergi Lopez, are excellent.

The term "fairy tale" can be used to describe Pan's Labyrinth, and references to The Wizard of Oz are not out of place. However, these should not go along with the expectation that this is a kid-friendly movie, because it is not. It contains scenes of graphic violence and images that will cause all but the most stalwart children to have nightmares. Some scenes, like one in which a character is forced to use a needle and thread to close a gaping wound, may cause even adults to flinch. However, the lack of family friendliness does not diminish what del Toro has achieved with this magical motion picture.

Moving on, we come to an altogether different sort of motion picture: the second feature film from director Todd Field (In the Bedroom. Little Children is the rarest of movies - a literary multi-character drama. From the erudition of the voiceover narrative to the three dimensionality of the characters, Field's film is the closest it's possible to get to a book without reading one. The story is presented in an unhurried fashion with all the characters and situations being allowed to develop and expand in a natural fashion.

Although this is an ensemble piece, there are two anchoring characters. They are Brad Adamson (Patrick Wilson) and Sarah Pierce (Kate Winslet), neglected spouses who find happiness in each other's company as they chaperone their children's playdays. It takes a while but they eventually give in to the inevitable and become lovers. They dream of being with one another, but that seems more like a fantasy than a hope grounded in reality. Other characters orbiting like satellites around the main pair include Kathy (Jennifer Connelly), Brad's controlling wife; Richard (Gregg Edelman), Sarah's porn-obsessed husband; Ronnie McGorvey (Jackie Earle Haley), a convicted pedophile; and Larry Hedges (Noah Emmerich), an ex-cop turned vigilante.

There's enough material here to fuel a series of lurid melodramas, but Field (who co-wrote the screenplay with Tom Perrotta, upon whose book it is based) keeps things low-key and under control. The scope of the project never gets away from him. The voiceover (unlike most voiceovers) is helpful, since it emphasizes the story's literary roots. Delivered in a smooth baritone, it offers observations and editorials on the action, occasionally with more than a hint of sardonic wit.

The performances, especially those by Kate Winslet, Patrick Wilson, Noah Emmerich, and Jackie Earle Haley, are tremendous. Winslet and Wilson face the challenge of portraying regular, intelligent people who are trapped by the normalcy of their lives. Emmerich and Haley, on the other hand, must play individuals with monstrous personality defects, and they do so without making their characters seem either unduly sympathetic or reprehensible. This is especially difficult for Haley, considering the nature of Ronnie's crime (he exposed himself to an underage girl), but the actor succeeds.

It might seem to some that Little Children meanders too much or could have been better focused. While I agree that any of the characters would have made an excellent choice for a feature film, Field's goal here is to present a slice of the community. The main story deals with Sarah and Brad, but the other characters are given existences of their own, which is rare in motion pictures, and Little Children is richer for it. With In the Bedroom, Field demonstrated his mastery of difficult dramatic material and his ability to direct actors. His sophomore feature, which avoids the dreaded "slump," reinforces those characteristics and gives us reason to believe that Field is a director whose next project should be met with anticipation.

Peter O'Toole is the talk of Toronto, even though he's not here. (He was originally scheduled to attend, but illness forced him to cancel his trip across the Atlantic.) Everyone is rightfully praising his performance in Roger Michell's Venus, the story of the relationship between a 73-year old actor and a 20-year old would-be model. The 50 year gap makes this a March/December romance, and would impress even Charlie Chaplin and Tony Randall. This is dangerous territory for a film, but Michell navigates it with sensitivity and class. Venus is not crass or explotative. It deals seriously with the possibility that an old man might fall in love with a young woman, and that (at least on some level) those emotions might be reciprocated. There's a lot more going on here than a dirty old man ogling an attractive young thing.

Maurice (O'Toole) is a respected but aging actor. He has prostate cancer and senses that the end is near. It doesn't particularly worry him; in fact, he jokes about it with his good friend, Ian (Leslie Phillips), and his ex-wife (Vanessa Redgrave). Into his life comes Jessie (Jodie Whittaker), Ian's neice's daughter. She's a trash-talking, sulky young woman who has come to London to find work, preferably as a model. Intrigued by her, Maurice takes an interest. Initially, he is rebuffed, but the two eventually work through their differences to form a bond. He takes her shopping, to the theater, and to a museum. She takes him to a dance club. They fall in love, although not in the conventional way. Maurice is impotent; his sexual desire has dried up. But he still appreciates the beauty of the female form. He wants to see Jessie naked and kiss her neck. She adores Maurice for his humor and intelligence, but isn't too keen for any skin-to-skin contact. Every once in a while, however, she allows him a liberty or two. She has limits, though: a hand on the breast gets him an elbow to the groin. Their relationship remains playful until Jessie's boyfriend enters the picture.

O'Toole deserves all the praise he has been getting for this part. Whether or not he will receive an Oscar nomination will likely depend on whether anyone sees the film. Maurice is a tough-talking, sharp witted old codger. He can recite Shakespeare one moment then launch into a profanity-laced tirade the next. When gazing at the Venus di Milo with Jessie, he remarks that the greatest expression of beauty for a man is the body of woman. She asks what the greatest beauty for woman is. He responds that it's her first child. This dumbfounds Jessie.

Jodie Whittaker, in her feature debut, falls into O'Toole shadow, but she has a strong enough presence not to get lost in it. She gives Jessie spunk and vigor, and helps us understand why Maurice falls in love. She's very good, but won't get the same accolades as her co-star, even though she takes her clothing off while O'Toole leaves his on. Supporting actors Leslie Phillips and Vanessa Redgrave are welcome additions. The verbal parrying between O'Toole and Phillips is one of Venus' undisputed highlights.

I was a little disappointed by the film's final 20 minutes - not so much how Michell (Notting Hill) chooses to wrap things up, but the mannner in which he goes about it. He places the audience in collusion with Maurice in wanting to see Jessie naked. However, when the moment comes, he reveals her in all her glory to the viewers, but Maurice isn't in the room. It feels a little like a cheat - not for us, but for him. The boyfriend subplot is also contrived and unnecessary. Ultimately, it doesn't serve much purpose (at his age, Maurice is beyond jealousy) other than to add a few minutes to the running time.

In Hollywood, romance is almost always equated with sex, so it's up to non-U.S. productions to remind us that there are other components to love. Like the platonic bond in Carrington, the interaction between the leads in Venus emphasizes that some of the deepest emotional relationships don't have physical components. This is a brave movie, because it addresses a subject that Hollywood feels uncomfortable about. Yet with O'Toole's authority informing his part, it's hard to believe that Venus won't find its audience.

The Last King of Scotland, in addition to having one of the most misleading titles of any movie to play at this year's festival, could also be 2006's Hotel Rwanda. Like last year's sadly overlooked feature, this one peers into another troubled African nation: Uganda. The Last King of Scotland explores the turmoil and troubles surrounding the beginning of one of the country's darkest recent periods: the Idi Amin regime, which lasted from 1971 through 1979, and resulted in thousands upon thousands of deaths. Based on actual events, the movie takes us into Amin's inner circle through the eyes of an outsider who is initially charmed by the charismatic leader until Amin's true nature begins to bubble to the surface.

In 1971, newly graduated Scottish doctor Nicholas Garrigan (James McAvoy) quits Scotland for Uganda to escape the talons of his overbearing father. Nicholas arrives in the African nation around the time that a military coup puts General Idi Amin (Forest Whitaker) into power. Amin is an immensely charismatic and popular leader. When he is injured in an automobile accident, Nicholas is the nearest doctor, and he is brought to attend to the wound. Amin is taken with the young Scotsman, and offers him a position as personal physician to the President. It's a job Nicholas can't refuse, although he will come to wish he had done so. At first, his experience living at Amin's residence is entirely positive, but as the ruler's paranoia begins to assert itself, Nicholas discovers that no one is safe. His own status is tenuous, especially since he is having an affair with Amin's neglected third wife (Kerry Washington). Every day, Amin relies more on his soldiers and less on his non-military advisors, and his enemies begin disappearing en masse.

Although Amin is not the lead character, he is the focal point of the movie. This is about the dissolution of his character. At the outset, he is an affable charismatic man, an individual with great aspirations for his country. His descent into paranoia and butchery is shown to be a gradual process, although there are plenty of warning signs which no one heeds. As Amin rightly points out, Nicholas views his participation in the Ugandan government as something of a game until he's in too deep to be able to extricate himself without help. The British government is all too willing to provide that aid, but there's a price to pay, and Nicholas is no assassin.

Solid performances help make this a worthwhile film. McAvoy, who is probably best known as Mr. Tumnnus in The Chronicles of Narnia, shows range as Nicholas - from the light-hearted, outgoing doctor who enters Uganda to the trapped, fearful man who finds his options narrowing as his position as Amin's "trusted advisor" becomes tenuous. Forest Whitaker is a scene-stealer, bringing the right mix of passion, charisma, and monstrosity to his portrayal of the Ugandan leader. Whitaker's Amin is larger than life - a figure equally capable of inspiring great love and great terror.

The Last King of Scotland does not refrain from showing the brutality of what Amin's reign becomes. The film contains its share of gruesome images, including a torture scene that depicts what happens to someone who betrays Amin. Director Kevin Macdonald has fashioned a film that is at times nearly as harrowing as his previous endeavor, Touching the Void. The Last King of Scotland isn't for everyone, but for those who can stomach its brutality, it offers a compelling look into how such a popular leader became known as one of Africa's most vicious dictators of the 1970s.