Of passion and profanity

SPENDING IT

This week brings two intense dramatic films from directors who are still better known for their work as actors "" Mel Gibson and Clint Eastwood "" though in the latter's case his directing portfolio is probably as impressive as his acting one by now.

Mystic River is a brooding, stygian film with many of the themes Eastwood has explored in earlier movies like Unforgiven and A Perfect World - most notably the child-as-father-of-man, and the crippling effect the past can often have on the present. The story involves three friends brought together by circumstance 25 years after one of them was abducted by paedophiles, an event that has cast a shadow over all their lives.

If you're looking for at least a little levity in your movie-watching, be warned that Mystic River offers its audience no breathing space. One intense scene merely leads to another, and for all its virtues the film is self-consciously ponderous at times. Sean Penn (who won the best actor Oscar this year) is good as an anguished, revenge-seeking father but the understated (and woefully underrated) Kevin Bacon is in many ways the anchor of the film.

If you haven't heard at least something about The Passion of the Christ, you've obviously been on another planet. If you're back "" and if you have a very high tolerance threshold for violence, gore and subtitles "" try and catch Mel Gibson's beautifully filmed take on the last hours in the life of Jesus Christ. We won't comment on issues of authenticity "" there's been enough controversy on that front, and it's best left to historians and theologians anyway. But suffice it to say that at it's best Passion.. is a powerful and moving film.

It isn't as minimalist as you may have heard "" Gibson finds space for such obvious devices as slow motion and a heightened background score during dramatic scenes "" but there are nods to realism. The film was shot in Aramaic and Latin and the director has announced his intention to hold some screenings without subtitles, so the visuals can speak for themselves.

Repeat warning: if you've ever flinched while watching a violent scene in a film, do not go for this movie. The gore is so unrelenting that one could argue it defeats its own purpose, even desensitising the audience "" which may be the only major problem with the film.

Still on the topic of endurance and suffering, we'd like to know what we listeners have done to be at the receiving end of Janet Jackson's Damita Jo?

The pop-funk-fusion nonsense notwithstanding, one hearing of the album will make anybody human being flinch at the unbelievably risque lyrics. Ms Jackson has peddled transcripts of a porn flick as lyrics and diluted it with her babyface tonality, to not make it sound as offensive as a chalk screeching across a wet blackboard.

No point even mentioning what the price tag to the album reads "" you wouldn't want to know.

In fact if you are looking for some new grooves to do up your evening acoustics, Virgin music's Dhik Chik Dhik Chik [CDs Rs 199, tapes Rs 100], despite the inane titling of the compilation is a decent enough collage of varied dance styles "" from the nouveau electronica of the Chemical Brothers to classic retro remixes like "I Got the Power".

But if you are in the mood to rediscover classics (a trend that EMI started with Let it Be "" Naked) Roger Waters' The Final Cut [CDs Rs 350, tapes Rs 135] is out, in its re-mastered avatar with the bonus single "When the Tigers Broke Free" which never made it to the 1983 album. Waters' 'final cut' with his band members is his most autobiographical with perhaps the screechiest anti-war proclamations from the poet.

The 16-page booklet consisting of art work done by the band leader is sure to delight Floyd fans, and it's one of the rare glimpses that a CD sleeve has ever provided into the mind of the grumpy rock legend.