Steven Spielberg’s pleasurable new picaresque, The Terminal, is an easy movie to praise. The hagiography of Third World man-child Viktor Navorski (Tom Hanks) — smart enough to single handedly build a Napoleonic fountain in JFK and learn near perfect English in just days, too stupid to know that one cannot walk through glass or speak into a pager — doesn’t have political subtext so much as hypertext.
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Thursday, June 24, 2004
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