::: BEAUTY LIVE IN THE WORLD :::

And Douglas brings humanity to an exceedingly difficult role that could get him an Oscar in an independent film. It shows you that the higher you are, the harder you fall until at the end you are invisible. People who once knew you don't return your calls; others are too busy to see you. He tries to cheat aging by chasing younger and younger women but as a character says to him, "You can't cheat death no matter how many 19-year-olds you talk into your bed".

Douglas's character Ben Kalman, once a reasonable celebrity as `New York's honest car dealer', has seen it all -the heights of fame, the depths of anonymity. Still charming, good-looking, still persuasive, he is invisible because now down on his luck, no one knows him.

Says Roger Ebert, "He isn't solitary by choice but by default. He cheated on his good wife Nancy (Susan Sarandon).

He disappointed their daughter, Susan (Jenna Fischer) one time too many. He cheats on his current companion, Jordan (Mary-Louise Parker), in a particularly unforgivable way. He uses charm and the offer of his experience in life to charm Daniel Cheston (Jesse Eisenberg), a college student, and then betrays him. He has lied to his customers so often that, as everyone knows, `Honest Ben Kalman' spent time behind bars.

Yet he's charming and persuasive. He looks like a winner until you look too close. Solitary Man follows him for several days after he agrees to ac company Jordan's daughter, Allyson (Imogen Poots), as she goes for a college interview.

This is the same school he attended. He knows the dean, which may be a help.

You want to like Ben. He works on encouraging that.

When he was younger and less of a sinner, he must have been good to know, and there's an effective character in Solitary Man who suggests that. This is his old buddy Jimmy (Danny DeVito), who still runs a greasy spoon diner. On campus, Ben befriends the naive Cheston with man-of-the-world advice about sex, success and how to sell yourself. With women, Ben's approach is solicitous: Do some men misunderstand you? Are your qualities recognised? What are you getting out of the transaction?

The film is all about Ben Kalman, but one of the strengths of Michael Douglas' performance is that he isn't playing a character. He's playing a character who is playing a character. Ben's life has become performance art. You get the feeling he never goes offstage. He sees few women he doesn't try seducing. As a car dealer, he was also in the seduction trade. His business was selling himself at a dealership. What about in life when you need a recall?

What happens with Ben and the people in his life, especially the women, I should not hint at here. The movie depends on our fascination as we see what lengths this man will go to.

Solitary Man is a serious comedy, perceptive, nuanced, with every supporting performance well-calibrated to demonstrate to Ben that he can run but he can no longer hide.

Here is one of Douglas' finest performances. Because the other characters, no matter what they think, never truly engage Ben, he's on that stage by himself. Everyone else is in the audience. Douglas plays Ben as charismatic, he plays him shameless, he plays him as brave, and very gradually, he learns to play him as himself.

That's the only role left."

I remember Mother Teresa telling me on her return from the West — “It’s easy to deal with the poverty of the East.

Feed a person and you give them some happiness, but the poverty of the West, which is loneliness and an inability to communicate, I don’t know how to cope with that.” At the core, Greenberg (Ben Stiller) is lonely and his inability to reach out to others makes him angry and unbearable to the people he’s trying to come to terms with.

Noah Baumbach, who makes formidable films like The Squid and the Whale about a family torn apart by a divorce with no one, not even their children to help them, is an authority on the Western mode of loneliness, isolation, anger and all the other symptoms of being alone.

Says my guru Roger Ebert, “When you’re angry with the world and yourself to the same degree, you’re running in place. It takes a great deal of energy. You lash out at people. It all takes place in your head. After a time, people give up on you.

“That’s Roger Greenberg. I never knew who Stiller was born to play, but now I do. I don’t mean he is Greenberg, but that he makes him a convincing person and not a caricature. Greenberg was once, years ago, part of a rock band on the brink of a breakthrough. He walked away from it, stranding his bandmates, and never explained why. He fled Los Angeles and became a carpenter in New York.

“He’s been struggling. There has been some sort of vague period in an institution. Now he’s returned to LA to house-sit his brother’s big home and look after the dog. He can live alone no more successfully than with others. He calls Florence Marr (Greta Gerwig), his brother’s family assistant, who knows where everything is and how everything works.

And the dog knows her.

“Florence is someone we know. A bright, pleasant recent college grad uate for whom the job market has no use. We see her interacting with the family of Greenberg's brother; she does all the planning for them she should be doing for herself. In a more conventional movie, Florence would be the love interest, and Greenberg would be fated to marry her. But Florence isn’t looking for a man. She just broke up. ‘I don’t want to go from just having sex to sex to sex,’ she says. ‘Who’s the third ‘sex’?’ asks Greenberg. ‘You.’ Greenberg treats her badly. When they end up having sex, and they do, it’s like their right hands don’t know what heir left hands are doing. “He has a reunion with a former bandmate, Ivan (Rhys Ifans), a calm Brit, troubled by a trial separation, happy enough to see Greenberg and help him if he can.

But Ivan is worried that Greenberg still doesn’t understand how he crushed the dreams of his bandmates. Then there’s Beth (Jennifer Jason Leigh), who Greenberg once loved and was loved by. She has moved on in her life. She has a family.

“The important relationship is the one between Greenberg and Florence. She’s happy when she has a purpose. She wishes she had a direction in life but can be happy enough in the moment. It’s as if when Greenberg moves a little in the direction of happiness, he gets jealous because that draws attention away from his miserable uniqueness. People driven to be constantly unique can be a real pain in the ass.

“We can’t stand Greenberg. But we begin to care about him.” That’s how good Ben Stiller is.

In my opinion there are two film critics in America, Stephen Hunter who won a Pulitzer Prize for his criticism, and Roger Ebert. One of the things great critics require is gravitas, which is generally achieved by age and seeing one heck of a lot of films and have a vast and wide ranging knowledge of the finer things of life.

For example, on his criticism of The Last Station, the story of ups and downs of the aging Leo Tolstoy and his wife, he quotes the remarkable story of a publisher who goes off to ask James Joyce’s wife to secure the rights to Ulysses. The publisher is reported to have said “Nora, you have a brilliant husband” to which she responded “You don’t have to live with the bloody fool”.

Both Tolstoy and Joyce in completely different ways were much larger than life and tended to dwarf all those

around them except Tolstoy waged a battle of love and non-understanding with his wife the countess Sofya.

Says Roger Ebert, “The Last Station focuses on the last year of Count Tolstoy (Christopher Plummer), a full-bearded Shakespearian figure presiding over a household of intrigues. The chief schemer is Chertkov (Paul Giamatti), his intense follower, who idealistically believes Tolstoy should leave his literary fortune to the Russian people. It’s just the sort of idea that Tolstoy might seize upon in his utopian zeal. Sofya (Helen Mirren), on behalf of herself and her children, is livid.

Chertkov, the quasi-leader of Tolstoy’s quasi-cult, hires a young man named Valentin (James McAvoy) to become the count’s private secretary.

In this capacity, he is to act as a double agent, observing moments between Leo and Sofya when Chertkov would not be welcome.

It might be hard for us to understand how seriously Tolstoy was taken at the time.

To call him comparable in stature to Gandhi would not be an exaggeration, and indeed Gandhi adopted many of his ideas. Tolstoy in his 82nd year remained active and robust, but everyone knew his end might be approaching, and the Russian equivalent of paparazzi and gossips lurked in the neighbourhood.

The Last Station has the look of a Merchant-Ivory film, with the pastoral setting, the dashing costumer, the meals taken on lawns.

But did Merchant and Ivory ever deal with such a demonstrative family? If the British are known for suppressing their emotions, the Russians seem to bellow their whims. If a British woman in Merchant-Ivory land desires sex, she bestows a significant glance in the candlelight. Sofya clucks like a chicken to arouse old Leo’s rooster.

The dramatic movement in the film takes place mostly within Valentin, who joins the household already an acolyte of Tolstoy. Young and handsome, he says he is celibate. Sofya has him pegged as gay, but Masha (Kerry Condon), a nubile Tolstoyian, pegs him otherwise.

Valentin also takes note that Tolstoy, like many charismatic leaders, exempts himself from his own teachings.

Some women are simply sexy forever. Mirren is a woman like that. She’s 64. As she enters her 70s, we will begin to develop a fondness for sexy septuagenarians.

Mirren and Plummer make Leo and Sofya Tolstoy more vital than you might expect in a historical picture.

Giamatti has a specialty in a specialty in seeming to be up to something, and McAvoy and Condon take on a glow from f e e l i n g noble while sinning. In real life, I learn, To l s t oy provided Sofya with more unpleasant sunset years, but could we stand to see Mirren treated like that?" Mirren was nominated for an Oscar for Best Actress as well as a Golden Globe.