Gail and I just returned from seeing The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and we represent both sides of the audience experience. Gail was unfamiliar with the stories - whereas I have read all five of the Douglas Adams books, heard the BBC radio series, seen the BBC television series... a fan-geek since the early '80s, in other words. So the following is my review, from the dyed-in-the-wool, able-to-recite-lines Fan perspective.

The story, repeated in so many media over the years, begins simply: The plant Earth is destroyed. Douglas Adams once revealed in an interview that he had decided to write a science-fiction story that began with the destruction of Earth, rather than ending that way. The story spirals outward wildly from there, following the trials of the planet's lone survivor, Englishman Arthur Dent; who survives because his friend, Ford Prefect, turns out to be an extraterrestrial researcher for a galactic travel-tips book and whisks him away at the last minute, in his bathrobe.

Adams himself was working on the screenplay when he died, suddenly, on his 49th birthday in 2001. The screenplay contains many of the elements and characters from the book, but the plot diverges widely for the latter two-thirds of the film. (Old-time readers, take note: This is very much a new story, not a retelling of the book, as the old BBC projects were.) A large part of the appeal of the original HHGG series, besides the absurd situations, was Adams' prose; engaging, wildly roundabout, with tremendously baroque sentence structures that roll on and on in dry British manner. It's not always easy to reproduce in performance, and the film doesn't strive all that hard to do so.

But the characters are there, and a lot of the film's goodness comes from how they are brought to life. Martin Freeman (of the BBC comedy series The Office) makes a fine Arthur Dent, hapless yet persevering. Alan Rickman voices Marvin, the Paranoid Android - one of the book's most memorable characters - to perfection, his voice rich with misery. And Sam Rockwell comes up with a new spin on freewheeling Galactic President Zaphod Beeblebrox - with an American accent reminiscent of a certain other well-known, dimwitted Southwestern figurehead.

A real treat of the film is that the Vogons, and many of the other fantastic aliens, are recreated not by CGI but by Jim Henson's Creature Workshop. The work they've done here is amazing, as always - hilarious caricatures, ingeniously brought to life.

I wonder what the impression will be for those who are new to the tale. The books themselves are sketchy, more like a series of episodes than a seamless story, and the film can be quick and confusing. But then, that's the authentic Arthur Dent experience - being thrown into a strange universe, on short notice, and struggling for meaning and survival.

Don't Panic.

Gail and I traveled to Philadelphia this weekend to see Woody Allen's latest movie. (A dogged quest, as it turned out, through driving rain; which shows what we will endure for limited-release movies and a good cheesesteak sandwich!)

Melinda and Melinda is a comedy and a drama; there's no telling what rack it will end up on in your local video place. It's also a return of sorts, to Woody Allen's core - a witty, wordy screenplay about well-off, well-read Manhattanites. Yes, it takes place in New York; yes, there are writers and actors and creative types, drinking fine wine and whining.

The premise of the film is a question: is life a comedy, or a tragedy? This is the question posed by two veteran authors, at a cozy restaurant table in the opening scene. Another companion offers up an anecdote, about an unexpected guest showing up at a dinner party, and asks the writers for their interpretion of the tale. Sy (Wallace Shawn) is a successful writer of television comedies, and argues that life is tragic; therefore, people turn to laughter to overcome their pain. Max (Larry Pine) is a playwright, and takes the position that life is absurd, and that therefore truth is tragedy.

The rest of the film unfolds as two parallel stories, as imagined by the pair. In Sy's comic version, the party's hosts are director Susan (Amanda Peet) and her minor-league actor husband Hobie (Will Ferrell). Max's somber story begins with actor Lee (Jonny Lee Miller) and his sheltered wife Laurel (Chloë Sevigny). In each version, Melinda - the uninvited guest, and linchpin of the story - is played by Australian actress Radha Mitchell.

The parallel structure keeps things moving, in a movie that consists largely of conversation; although at times the transitions are vague, as the two versions look and sound very similar. Radha Mitchell manages two distinct versions of the twitchy, set-upon Melinda with one or two slips of Aussie twang in her dialogue. The comic workload is carried by Will Ferrell, although here his trademark persona has been set aside, to make him a vessel for channeling - Woody Allen. His delivery, timing and mannerisms are an unmistakable portrayal of a 1970s-vintage Woody. It's well done, but the novelty of it wore off quickly, for me - I think Ferrell could have been hilarious, had he been trusted with more of himself.

Allen wrote and directed this piece, and it shows that he is still capable of a wry and entertaining story, at least here on his home turf; tossing around philosophical questions that have you headed for the library, leavened with laugh-out-loud non sequiturs - and as always, a cinematic love letter to Manhattan, with Duke Ellington at the keyboard.

Les Triplettes de Belleville is a quirky, wordless animated feature by writer-director Sylvain Chomet, who has his background in comic art. The joint French-British-Canadian production gained instant acclaim (and broad distribution) at the Cannes Film Festival in 2003, and is now available on DVD.

The story follows an aged music teacher, Madame Souza, and her orphaned grandson Champion (and their dog Bruno, whose black-and-white dream sequences are brilliantly absurd!) When Champion is kidnapped, Madame Souza sets out to rescue him, and finds allies in an ancient trio of jazz singers - the Triplets of Belleville. This simple, sweet story unfolds with truly original hand-drawn animation, infectious jazz music and some biting social satire in an unmistakably Gallic flavor.

Some Americans have been offended by some of the caricatures in the film (most centering on the notion that Americans eat rather well!) Cultural sendups abound, but they are mixed in such a polyglot that it can't be called biased, and there are as many jabs at French stereotypes. The fictional city of Belleville draws its visual cues from Paris, New York, Montreal and Quebec; the antagonists in the movie are the French Mafia.

Madame Souza is Portuguese, which may be more obvious to European viewers. I didn't twig to it until I read it in a review. But like the rest of the cultural references, her ethnicity - like her briefly dreadful Fado singing - is only a comical aside. Despite her awkward appearance, she is portrayed with the utmost sympathy; her love and devotion for her grandson are the heart of the story. She weathers her many setbacks with stoic determination and patience, never more emphatically than in her trip across the ocean - also one of the most singularly beautiful scenes in the film, visually.

Despite the fantastically distorted human forms, the animation often has such beautiful qualities of light and motion that you may forget the artifice. Nor do you consciously notice the almost-complete absence of any dialogue; the story is told in complete detail without it. In fact, without the focus on words and mouths moving, the animation is free to tell far more subtle stories; facial expressions, body language and other details of light and motion, all beautifully rendered.

One of the film's most outstanding features is the music; the title song Belleville Rendes-Vous was nominated for an Oscar. The musical thread that runs through the story of Madame Souza and the Triplets is an impossibly catchy mix by composer/musician Benoit Charest. It's a hodgepodge of styles and found instruments (bicycle wheels, refrigerator shelves and a vacuum cleaner) mixed into a gumbo of Franco-American jazz, overlaid with Django Reinhart-style acoustic guitar; toe tapping is unavoidable. (I just ordered the soundtrack!)

Gail and I have watched the rest of the series; not the last, as "49 Up" will be released this summer. It is truly a unique project, a documentary that has taken 42 years to produce - and isn't yet finished.

It's impossible to review in much detail here; the project itself is ambitious in scope, telling the stories of 14 lives over decades of change, in just six installments of two hours or less. In fact, it has far outgrown its original agenda and focus - which weren't even carefully defined, when filming began in 1963. It can be argued that it is an examination of the British class system, a broad look at Western society, or a series of very personal portraits.

Perhaps it's easier to say what it isn't: it's not a scientific experiment, for one. The 14 children were not selected at random, but chosen from different economic and social classes, with regard to perceived "advantages". The final mix included 10 boys and only 4 girls, so the genders are unevenly represented. It's not impartial journalism, either; the director, Michael Apted, admits in the commentary to "42 Up" that he has become personally involved with the 14 participants, and that he and their participation in the films has changed their lives in small ways.

But it is very, very compelling to watch. Nearly every aspect of the authentic human experience can be found in these 14 lives, and you find many ways to identify with them. Certain universal themes emerge; the rebellion, boredom and reckless optimism of the 21-year-olds. The successes, failures and reassessments at ages 28 and 35. The hard-won wisdom and cautious judgments of 42. Another aspect that I found interesting was the effects of coupling; all but two of the 14 were married, one more than once, several divorced by 42. Some, but not all, seemed to find striking new growth with the influence of their partners.

Over their lifespans, the 14 subjects have become complete individuals too; although the interviews take only a few hours, the total picture that is drawn over the decades reveals a lot. As some of the subjects commented, it's not often that people even think about their own lives in such broad arcs of time. I found that it evokes a lot of examination of one's own life. It's also compelling to see the subjects change physically over time; the young children's faces grow to adulthood and tell their own stories as the "Uppers" mature and age.

I recommend it to anyone; it's nothing less than a fascinating documentary about - life.

Seven Up was produced for British television, released in 1964. A forward-looking documentary, it began by interviewing 14 children, chosen from all walks of British society. The original premise was that the leaders and working classes of the year 2000 were then seven-year old children, and it was meant to be a one-time program.

But in 1970 the director, Michael Apted, produced a sequel titled Seven Plus Seven, returning to interview the children again to look in on their growth. It then became his unique ambition to revisit them every seven years, and to chronicle their lives by these mileposts.

Incredibly, he has done just that, for forty-two years now. The series now consists of six programs; The seventh, Forty-nine Up will be in production this summer in Britain for a fall release. Gail and I just watched the first two in the series, and we are hooked - the next four are already on order!

Seven Up looks rather quaint at first, in grainy black-and-white, but the interviews with the children are immediately engaging. They are from all walks of life; expensive private schools, middle-class homes, and orphanages. At this age - though some are shy, others bubbly and outgoing - they are all happy, carefree and optimistic as the healthy children they are. But even at seven, the differences in their situations are already as apparent as their accents. The upper-class Andrew, John and Charles each know which college they will attend - and like wealthy Suzy, live ordered lives filled with opportunity and activities. City-kid Tony and rural Nicholas tell much different stories, and the program ends as all the children come together in an arranged meeting on a playground.

Seven Plus Seven jumps ahead to meet the children again (in color) at age 14. Their lives have become more complex - and darker, in many ways. Symon, one of the two from the children's home, has begun to face the prejudices of being black in 1970s England; his wide eyes and smile have given way to a furrowed brow and a guarded manner. All of the youths now pepper their interviews with more mature observations about what their futures might hold in store.

The series is, perhaps, true "reality television"; rather than follow the subjects around voyeur-fashion, we see them interviewed every seven years. Each phase is a cross-section, a snapshot in time, and the rest of their lives remain private. But each emerges as a true story, in each case literally the story of a lifetime.

I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of the series; seeing these men and women again at ages 21, 28, 35 and 42. Some chose not to participate in the whole series, some went missing and then returned. And their lives took dramatic turns, some predictable and others fascinating surprises. Just as all of our lives do, in reality.

The BBC series The Office is available now on DVD, our preferred medium. (Commercials kill brain cells!) It's a comedic mock-documentary about a paper-supply company's back office in Slough, England.

The BBC2 camera crew follows the "employees" through their working days, to document life in an average British office. It's a great device, as the makers point out in the commentary, as it allows the actors to speak directly to the camera on occasion to help with plot exposition.

The fact that makes it all so involving (and funny) is that the staff reveal far more than their professional roles; their personal lives are inevitably woven into their workday hours.

The office manager, David Brent (played by writer-director Ricky Gervais) seems to have risen to his level of incompetence, and parrots every middle-management team-building catchphrase in the book. But he can't hide his shortcomings under such all-day scrutiny; nor his all-but-lost dreams of being a comedian - and in one hilarious meeting, a musician.

Sales rep Tim Canterbury is already too long in his entry-level job and still living with his parents. He sees the mundane absurdities of cubicle life too clearly, and quietly rebels against them; much of the wry commentary in the show comes from Tim. Rounding out the core cast are assistant-manager Gareth Keenan, a jingoistic weekend soldier, and receptionist Dawn Tinsley, Tim's abiding secret love interest.

It is a British production, and some of the accents and cultural references may be hard to follow for Americans; but all of the characters ring true, and sympathetic, to anyone who has ever been yoked to a desk for a living.

"11:15, restate my assumptions:

1. Mathematics is the language of nature.
2. Everything around us can be represented and understood through numbers.
3. If you graph these numbers, patterns emerge. Therefore: There are patterns everywhere in nature."

Pi was the first production of director Darren Aronofsky (Requiem for a Dream). A true independent film, it was produced in 1998 on a budget of only $60,000; it went on to earn over 3 million, even in limited release.

It is visually distinct and striking; shot entirely in black-and-white reversal film (like slide film, it develops as a positive image, so no printing process is required) with a stark, high-contrast exposure. That and the soundtrack establish the tense, jangled isolation of the film, the story of a New York numbers theorist going slowly insane.

Max Cohen (played by Sean Gullette) is a human calculator, a brilliant mathematician who sees patterns and numerical relationships instinctively. But he lives in gloom and isolation, tormented by migraines, paranoia and bouts of tinnitus. Much of the movie takes place from his narrative perspective, so the fragmented and hallucinatory nature of his life is experienced firsthand.

His pursuit of useful patterns in the stock market leads him to an accidental discovery of a 216-digit number, part of the decimals following Pi. The same pursuit makes him the target of a ruthless investment firm. And his discovery comes to the attention of a group of Kabbalistic Jews, who believe that holy messages are hidden in numerical encryption in the Hebrew texts of the Torah.

As Max desperately pursues what he believes to be his salvation, a way to understand his world, he struggles with these antagonists and with his own fading sanity. The film plunges you into that struggle with him; the experience is frightening, sometimes uncomfortable, but fascinating.