Somewhere, there are future Hollywood directors who will tell magazine feature writers that they first decided to make movies as they watched “Lord of the Rings.”

It is that good. It is that once-to-a-generation, not since “Star Wars,” transcendent reminder of why we tell stories, why we have imagination, and why we must go on quests to test our spirits and heal the world. And it is a story that invites us into a fully-realized world with many different civilizations, all so thoroughly imagined that we do not only believe that they each have complete languages, but that they have dictionaries, histories, mythologies, schools, music, and poetry.

Our hero, Frodo Baggins (Elijah Wood), comes from one such culture. He is a Hobbit. And he is on a quest to return a powerful ring to the place where it was created, so it can be destroyed. A great wizard called Gandalf has told him that the ring can be the source of great evil. But of course this makes it very sought after by all kinds of scary folks, so Frodo has a lot of adventures ahead of him.

Peter Jackson, who directed and co-wrote the script, has created a movie that seems astonishingly inventive and new and at the same time somehow seems as though it always existed inside us. Every detail, from the tiniest plant to the hugest battle, is exactly, satisfyingly right. The bad guys, all thundering hooves and billowing capes, seem to have come from the core of every nightmare since the world began. All three movies in the series have already been shot, so we can expect his singular vision to carry us through to the end.

A couple of caveats — like Harry Potter, Frodo is a character who is more interesting on the page, where we can share his thoughts, than in a movie, where he is primarily called upon to look amazed, scared, or sad. And like Harry Potter, there were benefits to producing a series of films at the same time (continuity, commitment to getting all of the details right), but some drawbacks, too. So, we get glimpses of people who will be important later but now are somewhere between placeholders and distractions. I know they were there first, but I could not help thinking that all the women in the movie dress like Fleetwood Mac’s Stevie Nicks.

Parents should know that the movie might be overwhelming for younger children who are not familiar with the characters and story. I recommend preparing anyone younger than 12 with some background or encouraging them to read the simpler first story in the series, The Hobbit (about Frodo’s uncle, Bilbo). Characters are in severe peril and there are intense battle scenes.

Families who watch this movie should discuss why it is that only Frodo seems immune to the ring’s power to corrupt even honorable, wise, and powerful people and the notion that “even the smallest person can change the course of the earth.” If you were going to form a fellowship for a grand quest, who would you want to be in it?

Families who enjoy this movie should read the books, starting with the prequel, The Hobbit, with beautiful illustrations by Michael Hague. They may want to read more about New Zealand because its extraordinary topography provides the settings for Middle Earth or look at the gorgeously imaginative illustrations by Maxfield Parrish that inspired some of the art direction. They will also enjoy the “Star Wars” movies, Labyrinth, and Dark Crystal. I enthusiastically recommend the BBC audio version of the books, which might be just the thing to keep kids patient until the second movie in the trilogy opens up in December of 2002.

None of the men at the screening I attended liked this movie. Some of them even came out of the theater looking a little shell-shocked. But many of the women walked out smiling.

This movie’s audience may break down along gender lines, but believe me, this isn’t your mother’s chick flick. That is, unless your mother is an Adam Sandler fan, because what this is is an Adam Sandler movie from the girl’s point of view.

Written by Nancy Pimental (of “South Park” and “Win Ben Stein’s Money”), this is a cheerfully obscene tribute to girlfriends and of course to true love.

Cameron Diaz is Christina, an advertising executive and full-time heartbreaker and party girl. She lives with gal pals divorce lawyer Courtney (Christina Applegate deglamorized into sidekick mode) and salesgirl Jane (Selma Blair). They aren’t waiting for Mr. Right. They are perfectly happy with Mr. Right Now. At least that’s what they tell themselves. But what they do, just like male characters in many, many movies of the past, is put up barriers to genuine intimacy in their romantic relationships, keeping genuine closeness for each other. Christina enjoys using the power of her beauty and freshness (in both senses of the word) to control men so that she can have the fun of dropping them quickly to run back and share the dish.

Then Christina meets Peter at a disco. He piques her interest by not being dazzled by her and by sizing her up right away. He mentions that he is going to a wedding the next day. So, when she can’t put him out of her mind, she and Courtney decide to track him down anc crash the wedding. They’re off on a road trip.

All of this is just a thin excuse for a series of extremely raunchy and explicit jokes and situations, any of which would have earned an immediate NC-17 rating if this hadn’t been a comedy and, more important, if not for the indestructible sweetness of Cameron Diaz, who acts as something between Teflon and a disinfectant.

The three leads are so bright and even endearing that somehow the fact that they behave like complete skanks does not compute. Their loyalty and high spirits and the fact that no one is taking this movie very seriously (they announce that there will be a clothes-trying on montage and then appear as Julia Roberts, Madonna, and Olivia Newton-John) make this a guilty almost-pleasure.

Parents should know that this movie has some of the most explicit sexual references and situations ever included in a mainstream film. There are extensive and graphic jokes about oral sex (including a humiliating visit to the dry cleaner and a medical emergency involving a very personal piercing). Parents should exercise the strongest caution in exposing kids or teens to the language and behavior in this movie.

Families who see this movie should talk about why Christina was afraid to get close to a man and why she was so concerned about having the power in her relationships. They should also talk about the way the friends showed loyalty and unconditional acceptance to each other.

Families who enjoy this movie will also enjoy “American Pie” and “There’s Something About Mary.”

People will react very strongly to this movie – they will either love it or hate it. And after some consideration, I’ve decided that I love it.

Those who will enjoy it are people who have a lot of tolerance for all-night college dorm discussions of the meaning of life, because this entire movie is a series of monologues and dialogues that are variations on that theme.

It does not really tell a story. It is just a journey by an unnamed main character (played by Wiley Wiggins) who wanders through an Alice-in-Wonderland-style journey that may or may not be a dream, meeting all kinds of very odd people, many of whom tell him their views on consciousness and the purpose of existence.

It recalls director/screenwriter Linklater’s first film, “Slackers,” which showed us a series of loosely linked people expressing views on everything from Madonna’s pap smear to the assassination of William McKinley, and his later film, “Before Sunrise,” in which a young couple meets on a train and spend the rest of the movie walking around Vienna and talking about just about everything.

The couple from “Before Sunrise,” Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke, reprise their roles in one scene in “Waking Life,” lying in bed talking about consciousness after death. Other actors and characters from Linklater’s earlier films flicker through this one as well, their out-of-context familiarity adding to the dreaminess and disorientation.

But there is a crucial difference between this film and Linklater’s earlier works. This film is animated. Actually, it is rotoscoped, which means that it was originally shot on film (digital film, in this case). Then, instead of creating animation cells or computer pictures from scratch, animators paint over the photographed images of real people. Each scene or character had a different group of animators, though the overall look of the film is very consistent.

The combination of the floating animation on top of real images also adds to the dreamlike quality of the film, especially in contrast to the very authentic-sounding audio. Animated films, highly artificial, usually have pristine, tightly controlled audio (with rare exceptions, like the pioneering John and Faith Hubley). But in “Waking Life” we get an extraordinary sense of documentary, even hyper-reality from the ambient noise of the audio and the fact that many of the monologues are delivered by people who are not actors. For example, some of Linklater’s college professors deliver portions of their lectures. This “real”-sounding audio contrasts with the vibrating fluidity and impressionism of the visual images.

At times, shapes shift to reflect the discussion. As a man says he would rather be “a gear in a big deterministic physical machine than just some random swerving,” his face briefly turns into a purplish gear. Another character briefly turns into clouds or smoke. But mostly, the images stay close to their original form and shape, except that the settings around them float, shift, and quiver, perhaps like “some random swerving.” Animation serves the dialogue in this movie as it served the music in “Fantasia.” Instead of Mickey Mouse carrying buckets or hippo ballerinas, we get a literally red-faced prisoner threatening the direst revenge on just about everyone and a man in a captain’s hat driving a boat on the road.

The monologues themselves are like jazz improvisations, wildly playful, bringing in an astonishing assortment of references and concepts. I think the secret to enjoying this movie is not to engage too much with the individual arguments and points of view but just to allow your ears and spirit to enjoy the fact that there are people who feel passionately about these ideas and who are willing to talk about them to other people with an openness that is both humbling and touching.

I enjoy that kind of talk, whether I agree with it or not, and it is a pleasure to see language used to create such intimacy and connection. The Delpy-Hawke scene shows how purely sexy conversation can be, something pretty much lost to movies since they started permitting nudity. The people who want “real human moments,” or “holy moments” of genuine connection come across as authentically vulnerable. Of course, other characters come across as people who talk all the time and barely notice if anyone is listening, but most of the people Wiggins meets want to help him in their own way.

Parents should know that the movie has some very strong language and scenes of cartoon violence, including a shoot-out and a self-immolation. Some teens may be upset by the discussions of death.

Families who see the movie will want to talk about their own views on the meaning of life and which, if any, of the characters are closest to their own thoughts about dreams and reality. Is it possible to create “lucid dreams?” Is there a reason that a film-maker might be particularly attracted to this idea – could film be a kind of generalized lucid dream? When you are dreaming, are you aware that you are dreaming? How do you know? What does it mean to say that there’s only one moment or to talk about the eternal yes? Does this movie make you want to know more about any of the authors or ideas it raises?

Families who see this movie will also enjoy “Everyone Rides the Carousel” with animation by Faith and John Hubley, based on the works of Erik Erikson.

Plot: John MacReedy (Spencer Tracy) gets off a train in a tiny, dusty little Western town. It is rare for any stranger to come to the town; it is the first time the train has stopped there in four years. The town residents move from suspicion of the one-armed man in a suit to open hostility when MacReedy enters the local hotel and asks about a local farmer named Komoko. Pete Wirth (John Ericson), the hotel manager, refuses to give him a room, saying they are all booked. When MacReedy takes a key anyway, a bully named Hector David (Lee Marvin) insists that it is his room. MacReedy takes another room. Hector and most of the rest of the town report to Reno (Robert Ryan). When he tells them to push MacReedy without giving him information, they are happy to oblige. But the town doctor (Walter Brennan) tells MacReedy how to get to Komoko’s farm, and Liz Wirth (Anne Francis), Pete’s sister, rents him a jeep to get there. MacReedy finds the farm deserted. Coley Trimble (Ernest Borgnine), another of Reno’s henchmen, chases MacReedy back to town, driving him off the road and slamming into the jeep with his truck.

MacReedy realizes that Reno will never let him get out of town alive. He tries to make a phone call or send a telegram, but Reno has cut him off. When Trimble harasses him at the diner, he refuses to fight, then finally, when Trimble persists, MacReedy devastates him with a karate chop to the neck. That buys him some time, but MacReedy is cornered and he knows it. He persuades Liz Wirth to drive him out of Black Rock. But it is a trap. Reno is waiting for them. As Liz runs to Reno, he shoots her; he no longer trusts her to keep his secret. MacReedy puts the jeep’s leaking gas into a bottle, stuffs it with his tie, lights it, and throws it at Reno, who is killed.

MacReedy had come to Black Rock to give Komoko the medal his son had been awarded by the U.S. Army for heroism. Komoko’s son had saved MacReedy’s life before he was killed in battle. But Komoko was also dead. Reno and his henchmen killed him at the start of World War II because he was Japanese.

The doctor asks MacReedy if he will leave the medal in Black Rock. MacReedy gives it to him, then puts out the flag so that the train will stop in Black Rock again, for the second time in four years.

Discussion: “A man is as big as what makes him mad.” MacReedy says this to Reno in one of this movie’s key scenes, and it is a concept children (and parents) should think about. It is also interesting that Reno killed Komoko after he was found ineligible to enlist in the Army. His hostility toward Komoko was based on displaced of his anger and frustration as much as it was based on racism.

MacReedy did not choose this battle, but he never turns away from it. A man who had no direction, and no goal beyond the presentation of the medal to Komoko, becomes a man who will not allow Reno and his thugs to win. He is fighting them not just for Komoko, but for himself, and in doing so finds a pride and dignity that enables him to go on.

This is a good movie to use for a discussion of prejudice, not just about race, but also about disabilities.

Questions for Kids:

· What does it mean to say, “a man is only as big as what makes him mad?” Think about a time you got mad. How big was the thing that made you mad? How do you measure?

· The people in the town had different reasons for obeying Reno. What were they?

· How did MacReedy change? What did he learn about himself?

Connections: Compare this to “High Noon,” another movie about a lone force for justice. Anne Francis, known to baby boomers as television’s “Honey West,” plays opposite Robby the Robot in the science fiction classic “Forbidden Planet.” In both movies, she is the only woman in the cast.

Interestingly, MacReedy’s handicap, so central to the story, was a last-minute addition in order to make the character challenging enough to attract Tracy to the role.

What happens when everything we hold on to is taken away from us?

This is the story of Chuck Noland (Tom Hanks), trouble-shooter for Federal Express, who travels to Moscow to remind the wayward Russian office that “We live or die by the clock.” Before leaving home, he sent a timer to himself in Russia, so that he could track down to the second the time it took to be delivered. He is proud of a new facility that is the ultimate marriage of technology and systems.

He goes home for Christmas Eve, only to be paged in the middle of dinner. He is needed in Asia. He quickly trades gifts with his girlfriend, Kelly (Helen Hunt) on the way to the airport, before racing off, promising to be back for New Year’s.

But he does not keep that promise. The plane crashes in the Pacific, and everyone else is killed. Chuck is washed up on a deserted island. Suddenly, all he has is time.

At first, he expects to be rescued. He efficiently retrieves the Federal Express packages that wash up on the shore and sorts them into piles for delivery. As it is borne in upon him that he is alone and completely out of reach, he starts to open the boxes. We see that these precious items of enormous meaning to the people who sent them — divorce papers, videos, a tulle party dress, ice skates, a volleyball — have little value on a deserted island. Noland (“No Land”), a problem-solver by nature and profession, gets to work, using the net from the dress to catch fish and the ice skate blades to crack coconuts. The volleyball, stained with his own blood, he makes into a companion named “Wilson” (after the ball’s manufacturer).

For 45 minutes in the middle of the movie, we are alone on the island with Noland. There may be crystal waters and azure skies, but this is no “Blue Lagoon” and he is no Brooke Shields. There is no music, and almost no dialogue. It is brutal and painful. He shreds his leg on coral and has to extract an abscessed tooth. Noland is an engaging character (signing “Light My Fire” when he finally is able to get sticks to light), and Hanks is undeniably one of the world’s most engaging actors. But it is more impressive than involving and begins to seem more of an acting exercise than a saga about the triumph of the human spirit or the importance of love and family.

No matter what deprivation he endures, Noland leaves one package unopened. It has an intriguing insignia on the return address, a pair of wings. He holds on to it as a promise of escape and as a symbol of his continuing identity as a man who gets the packages delivered.

Four years later, the side of a cabin bathroom is washed up on the island, and Noland has what he needs to create a sail. He knows the tides and the seasons well enough to begin to plan an escape from the island, and he knows that he would rather die on the ocean than stay where he is. What finally made it possible for him to leave was not the reason he relied on in his old life but the hope he has learned on the island. Still, it is his sense of the press of time (“let’s not commit the sin of turning our backs on time”) that it spurs him to action.

There are some moving and beautiful moments on the raft, especially the glimpse of a whale’s eye peeking just above the water. But once he gets home, the movie falters. We know, though, that the world he left now seems strange to him and that it will take a long while for him to reorient himself and decide where he will go next. He has mastered the skill of spearing a fish and making a raft, but he has to learn a whole new set of survial skills back at home.

Parents should know that the movie has brief strong language, a very scary plane crash, a dead body, and scenes of peril (some bloody). The deprivation and losses may be very upsetting to some children and teenagers. Noland considers suicide, and speaks of attempting it, which some people may also find disturbing.

Families who see the movie should talk about what is left when we strip away the conventions and conveniences of our society. How do we decide what our priorities are, and what our values are? Compare this movie to other desert island sagas, from “Lord of the Flies” to “The Admirable Crichton.”

Families who enjoy this movie might also enjoy one of Hanks’ less successful comedies, “Joe Versus the Volcano.”