I saw "Metropolitan" a couple of months ago, was fairly impressed with it on its own talky, cerebral terms, and took it back to the video store. Since then, it's grown on me to the point where I have to place its script up there with the best of Chekhov and "The Big Chill." Concerning the Manhattan prep and deb season of some unspecified year past, "Metropolitan" transports your mind into a social order that exists just beyond our consciousness: where young socialites discuss Fourier without conviction, Jane Austen without having read her work, and love without never having really been in it. It's sweet, smart and touching all at the same time. The characters are flawed and doomed -- though, as one character notes, not doomed to failure, but just doomed to a normal, boring lifestyle -- and we can't help but love them for it. Go to Blockbuster and rent it tonight; if you can't find it there, go to Amazon, order it, and allow 1-2 weeks for delivery. It's that good. This was Whit Stillman's first of three similarly themed films; the second, "Barcelona," is subpar, but "The Last Days of Disco" closes the trilogy with a delicious return to form.