Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) is partly a love story and partly science fantasy about the decisions of Joel (Jim Carrey) and Clementine (Kate Winslet) to technologically erase the memories of each other from the lover’s troubled mind after a breakup.

The phrase “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind” in the Alexander Pope poem Eloise to Abelard refers to the blessed state of an undefiled mind, not the state of a mind free of painful memories, as in this film. Yet screenwriter Charlie Kaufman deliberately assigns this particular meaning to the phrase and has it quoted by a character (played by Kirsten Dunst) who seems to value the removal of memories even if ignorant that she herself once had some memories erased. There may be something else here, however: Bad behavior takes place in the film, which could carry the implication that things would be better—in our love affairs, for example—if the human mind was undefiled.

What’s more, I feel inspired to say that after the Kirsten Dunst character utters “Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!” she quotes Pope’s follow-up words, “Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d.” All these words together, I think, suggest that she and the other people in the movie are creatures of hope. They live on hope, looking for at least some of their wishes (the most important ones) to be resigned.

The plot of Eternal Sunshine is flawed but highly interesting—more so than the aesthetic experience the film hopes to offer. Michel Gondry directed painstakingly, and he has a savvy cinematographer in Ellen Kuras. The film would be nothing without Valdis Oskardottir’s editing and, well, close to nothing without Winslet’s engrossing performance and Tom Wilkinson‘s master touch. It is a fine, and quite literate, motion picture.

Strongly does the Western Calvary Charge (formerly titled The Last Outpost, 1951) create the impression that politics means war, literal war, not just between North and South in the American Civil War but also between 19th-century whites and Indians. Also conveyed is what Clausewitz propounded: that war is the continuation of politics by other means.

Men in this film are usually soldiers—Ronald Reagan has the lead role as Capt. Vance Britten (a Rebel)—but, too, they are men of politics. For example, because of a deal he has made with the Apaches, Britten opposes a government official’s desire to keep a small group of Indians locked up in a cell. Releasing them would obviate an Apache attack on both Northerners and Southerners.

Directed by Lewis Foster, Calvary Charge is more than a B movie but certainly less than a great Western. It is pretty rich, though, for a 90-minute film. Reagan doesn’t project enough personality even though, like co-star Rhonda Fleming, he is likable. Fleming is largely successful in her role. She and Technicolor seem to go together seamlessly. (This movie is available on tubitv.com)

Ron Hansen‘s 1991 novel, Mariette In Ecstasy, deals with Catholic girl Mariette Baptiste, who aspires to be a nun in the Sisters of the Crucifixion order in 1906. A devoted, clearly spiritual 17-year-old, she is perceived to be rather peculiar but is not unwelcome as a postulant. It is the emergence of strictly supernatural events concerning Mariette which causes the sisters to doubt and sometimes dislike her, even as the elderly priest, Father Marriott, attempts to champion her. To be precise, he champions her as one who has been given the stigmata. An investigation is inevitable.

A question springs up: Just how much grace exists in some Christians’ lives? To Hansen, Mariette’s being a stigmatic is true, even though the girl is the daughter of a wealthy doctor and may not be a virgin. (Is the stigmata a grace? One would think so.) What becomes certain, I believe, is that Mariette could use not a legalistic system of spiritual living but rather a way of life in which things both natural and manmade—for if they are positive, they are God’s gifts—can be appreciated and, for good measure, both virginity and ordinary sexual feelings are accounted for. Hence it is no mystery why Hansen describes these natural and manmade wonders in his poetic prose. Not always are these descriptions good, but generally they are: “Timbers, sawhorses, and hovering dust in a milky chute of sunlight.”

At length the heroine here would never renounce obedience to Christ, but she learns she need never renounce the apt freedom she has in Christ either. We find out what this freedom means to Hansen in the last sentence of this splendid novel.

Marlon Brando directed and starred in a terrifically entertaining Western, One-Eyed Jacks, in the early Sixties. Brando’s character, Rio, is a bank robber running around with men far more despicable than he is, and one of them betrays him astoundingly. Rio is sent to a cruel prison while his betrayer, Dad Longworth (Karl Malden), gradually becomes a town sheriff and therefore . . . “respectable.” Escaping the prison with a Mexican friend, Rio intends to kill Dad and he tracks him down.

Circumstances alter cases. While Rio craves revenge against Dad, Dad himself want to assuage his guilt and, by and by, vent his fury at Rio for spending the night with Dad’s Latino stepdaughter, Louisa (Pina Pellicer). There is gunfire action in the film but also a lot of conventional romantic feeling. Rio hates Dad but loves Louisa.

Adapted from a novel by Charles Neider, One-Eyed Jacks is a plot-driven work which is nevertheless fascinated with human personality. Rio is not a forgettable figure, and Brando is consistent in his greatness at portraying him. Dad (played in a grounded manner by Malden), Bob Amory (a perfect Ben Johnson), Chico (Larry Duran), Louisa—these are not forgettable either. Piercing dialogue gets spoken (“You better kill me,” says Rio after Sheriff Dad has repeatedly put the bullwhip to him), and even with a not quite impeccable screenplay, the 1961 film triumphs for being so savage and riveting.

The plot of Nancy Drew (2007), which involves a dead movie star’s illegitimate daughter, is not really proper for the demographic for which the movie is intended.  Worse, the plot becomes just this side of stupid.  How, then, does Andrew Fleming’s commercial pic manage to be so entertaining?

To begin with, the Nancy Who Doesn’t Fit In is on center stage (hooray!):  At Hollywood High she’s the new girl with her retro ways and her unusual sleuthing in a world of potential kid killers.  She wears penny loafers, keeps her hair straight, and is a big believer in courtesy.  Laura Elena Harring exits from Lynch’s Mulholland Drive, only to get murdered in Nancy Drew.  She enacts a beloved film star whose mysterious death in the 1970s Nancy investigates.

Curious stuff—sufficiently curious to be rather engaging—but that’s not all:  When the movie tries for humor, it’s witty.  Daniella Monet, as snooty teen Inga, gets some of the top lines, e.g. the one about Nancy’s “podiatrist.”  The cast is fun.  What kind of range she has, or will have later, I don’t know, but toothy Emma Roberts is irresistible as Sleuth Drew.  Monet, Josh Flitter and Barry Bostwick are comically strong as well.  Alexander Gruszynski’s cinematography impresses with its now playful, now sinister color and light.  One could do worse than a non-parodic Emma-as-Nancy franchise.  (This was written in 2007.  No such franchise came about.)

Nancy Drew (2007 film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)