Expected more

It’s not bad or unwatchable but despite the amplitude of the spectacle, the end result is underwhelming.

what a terribly boring film. I'm sorry but this is absolutely not deserving of best picture and will be forgotten quickly. Entertaining and engaging cinema? No. Nothing performances with flat faces and mistaking silence for subtlety.

The film never slows down or bores, plunging from one harrowing sequence to the next.

Potter's idiosyncratic exploration of conflict is almost a diamond bashed into a cheap ring. The film's title is a clever intellectual device, an affirmation of the positive, explained in the ending by the narrator-philosopher cleaning lady, and in a conversation about numbers mid-film. As an anti-war film (post 9/11 and filmed during the early occupation of Iraq) it is rather less coherent, hinting at its theme obliquely through the love affair of an Irish-American woman and man from Beirut.The most immediately distinctive characteristic is that the whole film uses a dialogue of iambic pentameter. In this it is brilliantly successful. The lines come naturally and I felt myself transported as if hearing Shakespeare in his own era. It runs the gamut of eloquent flights of poetry, unfurling like a woman's hair from a clasp, to the foul-mouthed language of a punk-rocker kitchen assistant. It never once seems forced.The story follows a beautiful woman, maybe in her forties, played by Joan Allen and never named. She is a scientist, lives a luxurious lifestyle but in a cold, 'open' marriage to a politician (played by Sam Neill). She strikes up a passionate affair with a waiter/chef from the Middle East who charms her one night at an official function she must attend. But having played the wonderful (and sincere) Lothario, he breaks off with her when he realises he is only valued for the image she has of him. He has to struggle to fit in, living in a western country, speaking English, adopting 'her' culture. Yet she knows nothing of him, his background. Not even a single word of his language.It is in the portrayal of different – and far from simplistic – gender stereotypes that Potter excels. All the characters are beautifully hewn and totally unalike, each justifiable to him or herself. We don't gain much insight into politics, but we do see interesting 'types' of women – and men. All portrayed with respect and highlighting our shallow understanding of anyone who might be of a different mental make-up to ourselves.The film's shortcomings can be viewed sympathetically. The religious rants are just that, and lacking depth. But would we expect more of most people? Perhaps not. But as the cleaner is prone to comment on everything, a few words of insight might not have been amiss. Or is it that Ms Potter knows as little about Christianity, Islam and Lebanon as the characters she accuses? Some scenes would have benefited from jump cuts at the point where interest languishes. One might argue that they are consistent with the storyline of over-attachment to a love affair or particular point of view. That did not stop me wanting the scene to move on instead of saying the same thing again in another impressive (if redundant) piece of verse.The sudden shifts of location – to Beirut and Cuba – are visually appealing (even if Joan Allen had to be in reality shot in the Dominican Republic due to U.S. restrictions on its citizens working in Cuba). But they also have the feeling of a cop-out for mainstream audiences. Potter claimed that, "Endings are notoriously difficult," and technical problems and time pressures added to the production worries. But this does not assuage the reality that the intended political comment is explored without being well thought out. And that the choice of ending seems to be more for appeasing audiences than adding to a consistent whole.Yes is a proud addition to Sally Potter's highly personal and curiously successful work. Though perhaps not the masterpiece she might have wanted.

Simon Abkarian made a huge impression in "Ararat," Atom Egoyan's 2002 film about the Armenian genocide. Abkarian played Armenian painter Arshile Gorky. Gorky had lived an incredibly hard life; he was a survivor of the Armenian genocide. His mother was not. She starved to death. Simon Abkarian's performance as Gorky was supernatural. He channeled Gorky. His scenes felt as if conveyed from a miracle camera dispatched, across restrictions of time and space, to Gorky's studio. The power and impact of Abkarian's performance was all the more amazing because, iirc, he never spoke. I resolved to see Abkarian in any other movies I could find. I was eager to see "Yes." Alas, "Yes" just doesn't work. The iambic pentameter and rhyming doesn't sound like Shakespeare; when it sounds like any other literature, it sounds like Dr. Seuss. Sometimes it just sounds like an incomprehensible series of syllables that, the listener expects, are condemning the West and encouraging us all to just get along. In addition to the stilted and unnatural dialogue, the film includes many Dutch angles, and characters address the camera. In short, this film really doesn't want you to experience any willing suspension of disbelief. It wants you to sit, spine straight, on needles and pins, aware at every moment that you are having an important, experimental, cultural experience, and that Sally Potter is behind that camera.The two main characters – never named – never take on any life. This is remarkable given the fine talents Sally Potter has lured into this science experiment. Joan Allen is always sincere and lovable. Abkarian comes off less well, perhaps because he is given the goofier role. Given how utterly stereotypical and lifeless the main characters are, it's hard to know how seriously Potter wants them to be taken. Joan Allen plays a beautiful, icy, blonde, super wealthy woman who lives a loveless marriage in a monochrome apartment. Abkarian is a passionate Ethnic Other, dark, hairy, "a doctor in my own country, a waiter in yours" and always ready for luuuuv. He dances and recites poetry. At least Potter doesn't have him say, "Come with me to the Casbah," or sing "Sheikh of Araby." The film can't tell the small story of two people who may or may not be in love; it doesn't get anywhere near saying anything deep or new or heartfelt or important or even vaguely true about the bigger issues it wants to address: terrorism, East-West relations, Rich-Poor relations, or stem cell research.

YES is watchable, and obviously Sally Potter's "labor of love", so I gave it a 7, but that's because I'm kind. The dialog of this movie is entirely in verse. Speaking/writing in verse creates some heavy expectations of/in a movie's audience, emotional, and perhaps spiritual expectations. Shakespeare could get away with it, his verse generating a certain ancient resonance of universal Truths transcending, yet underscoring, an individual's petty self-concerns.But in Yes verse creates false gravitas. The "adulterous" love affair doesn't seem all that scandalous, sorry to say, nor portentous with broken sexual suppressions: the newly "liberated" lovers will be sure to suffer for, at last, breaking taboos and having their moist FUN.Some powerful "moments" in Yes, yes, and potentially it was evolvable into a great movie—-but that didn't happen: *Obligatory interludes in southern regions, over-stewed in style, style never a substitute for deep content, *Been-there-done-that jogging in the sun—-filmic foreplay for the fluidic reunion, *Herkyjerky camera, *An unintelligible whispered soliloquy in Irish brogue—-making a case, as long as the film-makers took such care to deliver the precious verse, for optional English subtitles, *Char-women making direct "contact" with the audience with no emotional justification for their domestic pontifications, which seemed (2me) incongruous.The lovers' reconciliation was meaningless (2me) because I didn't care that they had broken up. Actually, when they, or rather he, the petulant putz, broke up, I felt: Good riddance!--who wants a man, a doctor no less, who twiddles his germy mustache while preparing people's food!

If I can not find the rhyme - fine, if I can not find the rhythm - hit me!It's been a while since I have cried watching movie. And by the end I sobbed like a child who has been told that Santa is not real. Of course, I'm lying just a bit, men do not cry in movies. It takes a woman to bring tears to man's eyes. Yet, I admit, the movie touched me deeply. I have been known to write a verse or two. And timing was suspiciously perfect, I just was looking for the answer, hoping 'Yes' could be the word I'll hear from the Goddess. God answered instead. He did not sound 3.14ssed but neither He was pleased with my quest. At least He was amused, you can bet on that. Let us return back to the movie. Some people, I guess, those who did not expect to hear a lengthy poem, might get upset after an overdose of verse. I pity them but only for a moment, it's all I've got for them, the rest is for my Goddess...I meant the time, my darling, not the pity. Yeah, yeah, yeah. All the time. OK, I'm sorry, little domestic troubles. I gotta go now. See it for yourselves. And hear too)))Bye-bye,Ghost Cat