DECEMBER 13, 1999: Well, okay. Maybe I do. But I’ve got a good explanation, and here it is: I only see movies that I think I’m going to like. As a freelance critic, no job ethic or incoming paycheck forces me to seek out films that I don’t think I’ll enjoy. And, twenty-four years into this life, having been an avid moviegoer most of them, I’ve developed a pretty good radar for crap. Examples? Let’s see. On the weekend of Nov. 12, I chose to take in “The Limey” and “Dogma” instead of “Pokemon” and “The Messenger”. Of the big Thanksgiving releases, I have seen “Toy Story 2” but not “End of Days”. And, last weekend, I made the wise choice to skip “Deuce Bigelow, Male Gigolo” for “The Green Mile”.

“The Green Mile” is one of the movies I’ve been waiting all year for (the ones I’m still awaiting are “Magnolia” and “Man in the Moon”); I read the book, serialized, upon its publication in summer of 1996, felt it was one of Stephen King’s two or three best films, and rejoiced when I heard that Frank Darabont, who adapted and directed the best King adaptation to date (the similar “Shawshank Redemption”), would be returning to the screen with this project. Tom Hanks would play the lead-—good news, since I’m not only a fan of his work but keenly aware that his name on the marquee would help quelsh the box office indifference that “Shawshank” met with. Then I spent the year waiting for the movie to arrive.

It was well worth the wait. “The Green Mile” is not quite the film “Shawshank” was (some of it feels a little repetitious, and the final half hour, powerful as it is, cannot match the perfect closing passages of the earlier film), but it is still one of the finer films of the year and an easy guess to sweep the Oscars in March. It is a long, rich film—-at just over three hours, plenty of time is allowed for mood, characterization, and humor to develop. I’ve read a couple of reviews that complained about the running time (again, fine work from Mr. Curtright), and I’ve heard people complain in advance. How fuckin’ stupid is this complaint? I’m sorry, but it seems like every fall, when the rich, long films arrive, those of us who don’t mind a movie that takes its time have to endure “Entertainment Weekly” essays and bitching from Joe Schmo about how long the movies are—-a rich irony, considering how many of these people will plop down on a couch every Sunday afternoon and watch a three-hour football game, which is about as entertaining to me as watching flies fuck.

But I digress. Hanks plays Paul Edgecombe, a now-retired Death Row guard in a Louisiana prison who remembers, in 1935, when their block (called “The Green Mile” after it’s lime-green linoleum floor) was inhabited by John Coffey, a hulking but gentle black man accused of raping and murdering two little white girls. Soon after his arrival, Edgecombe and the other guards (all well-played, especially by the excellent character actor David Morse and “Private Ryan”’s Barry Pepper) begin to suspect that this John Coffey is a little extraordinary. More than that I won’t revel, except to say that Darabont manages to pull of a very faithful adaptation of King’s work that never drags or sags.

Doug Hutchinson is a break-through as evil Percy Whetmore, a repulsive, spiteful little man who’s landed a job as a guard on the Mile through nepotism; the character is a real sonofabitch in the book, and Hutchinson brings him to vivid life. It should shock no one to hear that Hanks turns in his usual terrific performance as Edgecombe; his talents are so reliable that he’s starting to be in danger of being taken for granted. Bonnie Hunt is always a joy to watch and her work here as Hanks’ wife is no exception; likewise James Cromwell as the sympathetic warden. But the whole show is stolen by the wonderful Michael Clarke Duncan as Coffey; nothing in his work as Bear in “Armageddon” (except for his fine sense of humor) can prepare you for how completely he becomes this character. His line readings are all gentle and finely-tuned for proper effect, but the real joy comes from watching his physicality—the way he rolls over on his bed when he’s “tired, boss, dog tired”; the way he “feels” another prisoner’s execution; and most of all, the joy in his eyes when he steps outside during a starry night. Duncan never reaches and never goes for easy sympathy. It will truly be a crime if he is not recognized in March.

This praise may sound like “The Green Mile” is purely an actor’s show, which might be a convincing argument if Darabont’s hand is a director weren’t so assured. That “Shawshank” was his first film was astonishing; even better is the news that his work here is even stronger, moving his camera with ease and staging his scenes (and special effects) well. Darabont’s only misstep is in keeping the modern-day bookends that King used for the serialization. They not only feel too close to Hanks’ own “Saving Private Ryan”, but feel just plain unnecessary; like “A League of their Own” and “Fried Green Tomatoes” a few years ago, the story in the past would be stronger if it were allowed to stand on its own.

Hanks’ voice also graces “Toy Story 2”, which is now in it’s third week of release and is shattering box office records. The high grosses are a no-brainer. The movie’s a lot of fun. Pixar’s animation is again terrific—my favorite sequences were Woody’s restoration by a “cleaner” (the same cranky old man in the “Geri’s Game” short that preceded last year’s “A Bug’s Life”) and any involving Buddy the family dog. However, contrary to many of the reviews I’ve read, “TS2” is not as good as the first film—it lacks that magical movie’s sheer originality and the pleasure of meeting its characters for the first time, and the script falls apart in the final half hour, when a prolonged chase sequence is stretched as far as is humanly possible, and then about five minutes longer. I frankly think that the raves that have met this film are more a sigh of relief, in light of Disney’s usual crappy (and usually straight-to-video) sequels. Anybody see “The Return of Jafar” or “Lion King II”? That aside, “Toy Story 2” is an entertaining movie and a lot of fun.

I also finally caught “The Bone Collector” recently, which was a fairly workmanlike thriller, well-shot but poorly written, redeemed by the fine work of Denzel Washington and Angelina Jolie. I’ll frankly see anything Denzel does, and I can see why he undertook this role—he is a tremendously physical actor, who here (as a paraplegic, bed-ridden forensic pathologist) must do all of his acting with his face and voice. He does not suffer. It’s a fine performance. Angelina Jolie is frankly the most exciting young actress coming up today, and while this isn’t the break-through performance that will make her a star (which I’m convinced would have happened if “Gia” had been a theatrical release instead of made-for-HBO, or if anyone had seen “Playing By Heart”), she easily pulls off a character that could have been a construct. This role isn’t much of a challenge for her, but it’s good to see her in a hit, and her chemistry with Washington is something to behold.

It’s also good to see the wonderful Luis Guzman (so good recently in “The Limey”) in a mainstream film, and I always appreciate a director who’ll let Ed O’Neill act. However, isn’t it about time we let Michael Rooker do something interesting? Back in the late 1980’s, his work in “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer” marked him as one of the most exciting young actors working; now, his scores of slimy villains like this one have turned him into a caricature. And his character is involved in the most obvious red herring in recent movie history. “The Bone Collector” is a mediocre movie, elevated by the presence of two fine actors.