Yes

Sally Potter's Yes proves that if you're going to write a script in rhymed iambic pentameter, it helps to be more of a Shakespeare than an Ogden Nash (in fact, some of Potter's would-be poetry here sounds like bad pop-song lyrics). And what does this misguided attempt at verse serve? A story of adultery, supposedly redeemed by a sociopolitical subtext that wallows in liberal guilt. The unnamed She (Joan Allen) is a world-renowned molecular biologist trapped in a marriage to a British politician that's been poisoned both by neglect and his attitude of pragmatism over principle. So it's not surprising that she should fall for an attentive Lebanese waiter—actually a physician forced into a menial job by Western prejudice—and before long they're having a torrid affair that is tested by the cultural chasm between them. To italicize her points, Potter also employs subsidiary characters—notably a maid who speaks directly into the camera—to comment on the filthy underpinnings of the woman's marriage (and the misguided society it represents), dramatically concluding with a Muslim and a lapsed Irish Catholic in a communist paradise talking about God. Likely to strike most as banal and obvious (even if they're on Potter's political wavelength), with iintimate scenes that ultimately generate more heat than light, Yes is verbally and intellectually both crushingly pretentious and oddly silly—without the saving grace of humor. Not recommended. [Note: DVD extras include a “Finding Scene 54” featurette about discovering the right location for a critical shot in the film (29 min.), a photo gallery, and trailers. Bottom line: a small extras package for a mess of a film.] (F. Swietek)