"Watching it is like seeing a poem for the eyes. " That's how Chicago Sun-Times critic Roger Ebert described this exquisite, Oscar-nominated, French-Vietnamese film from 1993, which begins in the 1950s and ends more than a decade later during the early years of the Vietnam war. The story is set almost entirely in a Saigon house where a 10-year-old orphan girl named Mui arrives to work as a servant. As she grows into a beautiful young woman, Mui is quietly and carefully observant of everything around her, from the scent of green papaya (hence the title) to the relationship between her employers. The film takes its visual cues from Mui's observations-it's a placid, soothing film that lingers over the physical and emotional details of its setting and story. What's really astonishing about this beautiful film is that director Anh Tran Hung shot it entirely on a soundstage in Paris, but the sights and sounds are so completely convincing that you'd swear the setting is an actual home in Saigon. This remarkable craftsmanship remains invisible to the viewer, and the seductive progression of the story unfolds with exacting visual precision. It's a film about Mui's growth and development, but also about her benevolent effect on the world around her. As such, it's a movie to savor like no other, life affirming and glorious in the memorable depth of its captivating simplicity. -Jeff Shannon.

This interesting Belgian film from 1994 has a surface subject that might make a few guys wince: an 18th-century castrato, or castrated male opera singer. A superstar in Europe, Farinelli the vocalist-despite compromised equipment-gets his share of groupies and is showered with attention and gifts from rich patrons. Meanwhile, his brother-a so-so composer whose career and fortunes are inextricably linked to his sibling, as per their father's wishes-feels like a sham for enjoying the fruits of another's success. For director Gérard Corbiau, the real story is that of the forced bond between the two men, and their unspoken awareness that their separate destinies have been slowed by the arrangement. Corbiau gives us the best of two worlds: a costume drama with an unusual, even exotic, story line, and a tender, universal tale of real love. The opera sequences are a kick: the breathless crowds, Farinelli's hammy control over the drama, and his stunning castrato voice (manufactured by Corbiau via synthesized merger of male and female voices) and all make for great fun. -Tom Keogh.

Mary Harron's feature-which picked up a Special Jury Award at the 1996 Sundance Film Festival for lead actress and independent film mainstay Lili Taylor-is a highly suspect mishmash of golly-gee counterculture reconstruction and inflammatory agitprop. Harron re-creates the ultimately violent relationship of motor-mouth street freak writer-prostitute-lesbian-gun-wielding assailant Valerie Solanas (Taylor) and pop artist Andy Warhol (Jared Harris) in the late 1960s, which ended in Solanas's assault on Warhol for his charmingly noncommittal responses to her search for a patron. It's a great idea for a film, but I Shot Andy Warhol is truly at odds with itself. Harron's modular construction of the story-part naive reenactment of the instant-celebrity life at Warhol's studio, part celebration of Solanas's subversive ramblings, part investigation into the roots of her hyper-victimization at, apparently, the hands of all men-is ultimately a shell game that allows the writer-director to avoid taking a clear stand on Solanas's bizarro politics. The cast is the only draw here: besides indie-film queen Taylor, Jared Harris makes for a convincingly cagey Warhol. -Tom Keogh.

More famous as a controversy than a movie, The Moon Is Blue (1953) marked a turning point in the history of frankness in American film. Because producer-director Otto Preminger owned the rights to the hit Broadway play, he stubbornly refused to change the racy dialogue in the script. The offending words included such end-of-western-civilization-as-we-know-it terms as "virgin" and "pregnant. " The Production Code withheld its seal, the Catholic Legion of Decency condemned it, and the picture made a bundle. Its subject matter is antiquated now, but the movie remains a cute and well-played example of pre-Neil Simon stage comedy. William Holden and the virgin Maggie McNamara meet atop the Empire State Building, later joining middle-aged roue David Niven for martinis and steaks in Holden's hep bachelor bad. Preminger's gift wasn't necessarily for comedy, but he steers things with his usual calm style, and lets Niven make the most of a tailor-made role. -Robert Horton.