Reviews

So-so sci-fi rom-com from John Carpenter, with Chevy Chase as a stockbroker who gets caught in a nuclear accident that turns him invisible; Daryl Hannah plays his love interest, Sam Neill the CIA heavy chasing him. Totally dependent on hackneyed visual gags and special effects that were superseded long ago, what remains is indulgent fluff.

A Kyoto skyscraper is contrasted with a crematorium chimney, gravestones abound, as do sinister black crows. And yet despite the lugubrious undertow of this, Yasujiro Ozu's penultimate movie (made two years before his death), there's a warmth to the tale of the Kohayagawa family, their ailing business and their eccentric patriarch that somehow transforms post-war angst into sublime acceptance.

Watching the fabbest of all fours in their first US press conference, puffing away on cigs and deflecting inane enquiries, you feel proud to be a Brit. "Sing something for us!" "No, we need money first." Could Justin Timberlake—or Julian Casablancas, for that matter—be half as sarcastic? Imagine waking from a 40-year coma and coming afresh to these extraordinary scenes: four scouse charmers off the plane with their matching suits and Pan Am shoulder bags.

In Francis Ford Coppola's liner notes to this extended, remastered release of the soundtrack to his 1982 classic, he confesses he told Tom Waits and producer Bones Howe, "What I really want you guys to do is make an album called One From The Heart and then I'll make a movie that goes with it." In the event, both were deliciously melancholy works of art. The film was panned. The music, however, was universally loved from the get-go. It's the best thing Waits has ever done. The horror is that it could so nearly have been Bette Midler, not Crystal Gayle, duetting with Tom.

Fine outing from rapidly maturing white American blueswoman

Debut album on Chris Blackwell's new indie label from Nuyorican global adventurers

Powerful first UK album release from Moog-driven Pittsburgh trio

Lost '60s soulstress' greatest misses

Weary thriller starring Al Pacino as ageing PR man

Philip Seymour Hoffman—in faint danger of over-exposure recently—does a Michael Moore, fronting a hand-held, ramshackle documentary which asks why Bush is so bad and the Democrats only marginally better. He hits those hanging chads and Supreme Court sinners with the help of Tim Robbins, Susan Sarandon, Jesse Jackson, Courtney Love and Eddie Vedder. Lively.