The House of the Spirits

This may be the finest movie ever made about Latin America by a Danish filmmaker working for a German production company with an English and American cast. (By the way, it was filmed partly in Norway.) A few more countries, and The House of the Spirits could qualify as a U.N. mission. Unfortunately, it doesn't quite cut it as a film.

Based on the acclaimed novel by Isabel Allende (the niece of slain Chilean president Salvador Allende), The House of the Spirits attempts a wild, impassioned roller coaster ride through the violent political history of modern Chile. Presented as a multigenerational saga, the movie follows the rise and fall of a powerful family whose wealth was originally built upon oppression and whose future is virtually consumed by the brutal military dictatorship that the father helps to create.

It's also supposed to be something of a love story, though the relationship between Esteban Trueba (Jeremy Irons) and his mag­ical, psychic bride (Meryl Streep) never comes across as either convincing or inter­esting. In fact, both Irons and Streep appear to be hopelessly miscast. Add an insipid performance by Winona Ryder as their daughter, and you'll discover new meaning to the phrase "dysfunctional family."

But the real problem with The House of the Spirits is writer-director Bille August. He simply can't handle the material. Throughout the movie, August tries for the grandiose, operatic flair of Luchino Visconti and Bernardo Bertolucci, but the movie ends up playing like an Aaron Spelling remake of 1900. Besides, August's screen­play so compromises the story that neither the politics nor the novel's ghostly magic make any sense. Instead, August provides us only with pretty pictures.