Stop the tape a minute, tell Mr. Zapruder to put down his camera, get comfy beside me here on this nice grassy knoll, and ignore that guy with the umbrella---he's probably one of ours---and let's ask one of the great, burning questions of our age:

Is Oliver Stone's "JFK" worth a watch?

Absolutely!---but you don't need to convene the Warren Commission to tell you that. Oliver Stone serves up a typically kinetic, visually arresting, deliciously conspiratorial and roaringly over-the-top film in "JFK", in which you're best served to worry less about historical authenticity, and just sit back and enjoy the movie for the feat of cinematic virtuosity that it is.

Right from the start, Stone leaps in with style, wit, a well-equipped army of solid ensemble actors, and a crack team of skilled editors helmed up by his faithful Director of Photography Robert Richardson (who has worked on all of Stone's projects, from "Wall Street" to "Natural Born Killers"); Stone digs in from the beginning and goes to work with the aplomb of a natural---and gifted---storyteller.

Stone has a little help from his friends, to be sure: Jim Marrs, (who wrote "Crossfire: The Plot that Killed Kennedy") and the still-crusading Jim Garrison (the New Orleans DA who wrote "On the Trail of the Assassins" and even appears in the film as his old nemesis, former Supreme Court Justice Earl Warren!) worked with Stone on the screenplay.

That "JFK" is a work of passion is quite evident, and redounds to the credit of its screenwriters. That it is a work of somewhat dubious historical authenticity is, alas, not so evident---and again, that is due to the cinematic wizardry Stone works in putting you on Dealey Plaza on that sultry Dallas afternoon 40 years ago. But like the best New Orleans gumbo, it's not what's in the stew that counts, it's how it tastes---and this gumbo tastes mighty fine!

All of this style and substance is put at the service of a contention that seems an article of faith by Stone: that President Kennedy was cut down not by a raving Marxist madman with a grudge and a mail-order rifle, but by a shadowy cabal of politicians and industrialists entrenched in the very highest levels of American government.

"JFK" puts you at the side of young New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison(played adroitly by Kevin Costner in one of his best performances), who, four years after the assassination of John F. Kennedy, begins to delive into a sordid underground of New Orleans tycoons and orgiasts, spies and con-men, Cuban exiles and CIA spooks, mercenaries and mobsters.

His suspicion aroused, Garrison reorganizes his office into a single-minded legal SWAT team designed to investigate the shadowy New Orleans bon vivant "Clay Bertrand", who may have had a hand in a conspiracy to kill President Kennedy---and to not only question the findings of the Warren Report, but to launch an investigation into the complicity of the White House into the death of the former president.

For all of its political immediacy and slick cinematographic techniques, "JFK" is more sweaty Southern potboiler than stern Yankee conspiracy theory, owing far more to sultry Faulknerian southern town mysteries and the forbidden, sweltering interludes of Tennessee Williams. Stone uses every resource at his disposal to ratchet up an atmosphere of oppression and menace: characters don't just talk, they sweat rivers, their eyes dart nervously about, they pace like caged tigers, the camera tracking their edgy, jerky movements.

All of this is supported by impeccable acting: "JFK" is studded with top-drawer talent, most of whom engage in a feeding frenzy of scene-chewing. Costner is given a foil in Tommy Lee Jones at his most sardonic as the elegant and poised Clay Shaw, who exudes menace in even the most genteel purr. Kevin Bacon is creepy, sinister, and volatile as Garrison's useless 'witness' Willie O'Keefe, while Joe Pesci lets the hairpiece do the acting as the unstable David Ferrie. Jack Lemmon anticipates his "Glengarry" act as Jack Martin, condemned to be forever pistol-whipped by a hulking Ed Asner (who plays the bilious, mysterious Guy Bannister); John Candy literally sweats bullets, hides behind his Ray-Bans, and chomps a cigar. And what conspiracy theory movie is complete without an obligatory appearance by Donald Sutherland as the mysterious Agent X?

All of this works some powerful ju-ju: the movie is spookier than a decrepit New Orleans antebellum plantation at midnight, and spicier than a pot of gumbo. The new Director's Cut restores 17 minutes of material left cut from the theatrical run, and the new bits both reinforce and detract from the power of the original. On the plus side, we get a little more of the tactics used by Garrison's shadowy enemies to knock him off the trail of the assassins, including one of his creepier close calls at the New Orleans airport. On the down side, the restored sequence featuring Garrison on a campy, kitschy talk-show hosted by John LaRoquette feels like nails on a chalkboard; it plays like parody, and does nothing but detract from the seriousness and pacing of the film.

If "JFK" raises questions about one of the more dubious and traumatic periods of our collective American memory, that's well and good---though the viewer should beware: Stone plays fast and loose with the historical record. But in building up an account of the assassination, Stone has created a modern masterpiece, a film that transcends the limitations of its subject and produces a creepy-crawly classic.
Stop the tape a minute, tell Mr. Zapruder to put down his camera, get comfy beside me here on this nice grassy knoll, and ignore that guy with the umbrella---he's probably one of ours---and let's ask one of the great, burning questions of our age:

Is Oliver Stone's "JFK" worth a watch? Absolutely! ---but you don't need to convene the Warren Commission to tell you that. Oliver Stone serves up a typically kinetic, visually arresting, deliciously conspiratorial and roaringly over-the-top film in "JFK", in which you're best served to worry less about historical authenticity, and just sit back and enjoy the movie for the feat of cinematic virtuosity that it is. Right from the start, Stone leaps in with style, wit, a well-equipped army of solid ensemble actors, and a crack team of skilled editors helmed up by his faithful Director of Photography Robert Richardson (who has worked on all of Stone's projects, from "Wall Street" to "Natural Born Killers"); Stone digs in from the beginning and goes to work with the aplomb of a natural---and gifted---storyteller. Stone has a little help from his friends, to be sure: Jim Marrs, (who wrote "Crossfire: The Plot that Killed Kennedy") and the still-crusading Jim Garrison (the New Orleans DA who wrote "On the Trail of the Assassins" and even appears in the film as his old nemesis, former Supreme Court Justice Earl Warren! ) worked with Stone on the screenplay. That "JFK" is a work of passion is quite evident, and redounds to the credit of its screenwriters. That it is a work of somewhat dubious historical authenticity is, alas, not so evident---and again, that is due to the cinematic wizardry Stone works in putting you on Dealey Plaza on that sultry Dallas afternoon 40 years ago. But like the best New Orleans gumbo, it's not what's in the stew that counts, it's how it tastes---and this gumbo tastes mighty fine! All of this style and substance is put at the service of a contention that seems an article of faith by Stone: that President Kennedy was cut down not by a raving Marxist madman with a grudge and a mail-order rifle, but by a shadowy cabal of politicians and industrialists entrenched in the very highest levels of American government. "JFK" puts you at the side of young New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison(played adroitly by Kevin Costner in one of his best performances), who, four years after the assassination of John F. Kennedy, begins to delive into a sordid underground of New Orleans tycoons and orgiasts, spies and con-men, Cuban exiles and CIA spooks, mercenaries and mobsters. His suspicion aroused, Garrison reorganizes his office into a single-minded legal SWAT team designed to investigate the shadowy New Orleans bon vivant "Clay Bertrand", who may have had a hand in a conspiracy to kill President Kennedy---and to not only question the findings of the Warren Report, but to launch an investigation into the complicity of the White House into the death of the former president. For all of its political immediacy and slick cinematographic techniques, "JFK" is more sweaty Southern potboiler than stern Yankee conspiracy theory, owing far more to sultry Faulknerian southern town mysteries and the forbidden, sweltering interludes of Tennessee Williams. Stone uses every resource at his disposal to ratchet up an atmosphere of oppression and menace: characters don't just talk, they sweat rivers, their eyes dart nervously about, they pace like caged tigers, the camera tracking their edgy, jerky movements. All of this is supported by impeccable acting: "JFK" is studded with top-drawer talent, most of whom engage in a feeding frenzy of scene-chewing. Costner is given a foil in Tommy Lee Jones at his most sardonic as the elegant and poised Clay Shaw, who exudes menace in even the most genteel purr. Kevin Bacon is creepy, sinister, and volatile as Garrison's useless 'witness' Willie O'Keefe, while Joe Pesci lets the hairpiece do the acting as the unstable David Ferrie. Jack Lemmon anticipates his "Glengarry" act as Jack Martin, condemned to be forever pistol-whipped by a hulking Ed Asner (who plays the bilious, mysterious Guy Bannister); John Candy literally sweats bullets, hides behind his Ray-Bans, and chomps a cigar. And what conspiracy theory movie is complete without an obligatory appearance by Donald Sutherland as the mysterious Agent X? All of this works some powerful ju-ju: the movie is spookier than a decrepit New Orleans antebellum plantation at midnight, and spicier than a pot of gumbo. The new Director's Cut restores 17 minutes of material left cut from the theatrical run, and the new bits both reinforce and detract from the power of the original. On the plus side, we get a little more of the tactics used by Garrison's shadowy enemies to knock him off the trail of the assassins, including one of his creepier close calls at the New Orleans airport. On the down side, the restored sequence featuring Garrison on a campy, kitschy talk-show hosted by John LaRoquette feels like nails on a chalkboard; it plays like parody, and does nothing but detract from the seriousness and pacing of the film. If "JFK" raises questions about one of the more dubious and traumatic periods of our collective American memory, that's well and good---though the viewer should beware: Stone plays fast and loose with the historical record. But in building up an account of the assassination, Stone has created a modern masterpiece, a film that transcends the limitations of its subject and produces a creepy-crawly classic.