Hal Hartley's film finds him relaxing his style a little too much. The worst part: Gone completely is the spewing dialogue. The characters here speak pretty normally, only a little cinematic, only expectorating words a little as they do in the director's previous films. That's mainly because it would be difficult to mouth Hartley's dialogue any other way.

This watered-down approach hurts the film as we've come to expect these dialogue devices from Hartley. They are sorely missed here. The dialogue is still crisp, fresh and decidedly Hartley-esque, but it doesn't have the urgency and the immediacy of his earlier work.

Hartley also works in some of his trademark dialogue repetition but it is soon discarded, as if the writer/director is trying to break free here. There is a line used twice, "This isn't a hotel," which could be repeated throughout the script for effect. Hartley does it near the beginning only. There is also a hilarious joke about computer disks that is repeated twice for amusement. It's laugh out loud funny. Hartley has some of his best cerebral zingers in the script. "Amateur" is one of the most accessible and funny movies he's ever made.

The auteur also uses music well in the film, like he has in the past. But he weaves more "pop" tunes into the soundtrack here and it doesn't really help the film. He also uses some familiar interesting camera work. But he moves the camera more here than he has in the past. Often the characters seem to be doing a choreographed dance for the camera. It's intoxicating and seems to be the only development in Hartley's repertoire that really is better here than what we've seen before from him. Still, before, his static frames often came across as beautiful paintings, wondrous still-lifes. That doesn't really happen much here. There is a taste of it in the opening.

Hartley stalwart Martin Donovan plays a man with amnesia. He hooks up with ex-nun turned erotic writer wannabee Elina Lowensohn. Their chemistry is pretty wicked. The way they talk and look at each other keeps us guessing as to what will happen next. Still, it's almost nothing compared to the chemistry he shares with Adrianne Shelly, who is sorely missed here.

Then Hartley also injects a wild plot about industrial intrigue, if you will, involving Isabelle Huppert and Damian Young. Of course, these two are also folded into Donovan's sordid past by Hartley's expert wizardry. Unfortunately, it's a plot we could really care less about.

What is the film about? Why is it called "Amateur." I'm not sure. His characters are a virgin who thinks she's a nymphomaniac, a amnesiac who can't remember a single thing about his past, and a woman who was recruited into the porno industry at age 12. Are they the amateurs? Is this a supposed synonym for virgins? What is Hartley trying to say here? I don't know. Still, as always with the director's work, it is interesting to watch.

The films ending attempts to repeat Hartley's gripping final line of dialogue in "Simple Men." I don't mean the same line of dialogue is used, I just mean the same device is used. The last line of the piece is very important, an exclamation point. Hartley is trying to say something about redemption. I think he wants us to consider if an evil man can ever be reborn. Just as his nun here is reborn as a erotic fiction writer, his porn star is reborn as a woman in control and his accountant is reborn as a vigilante. Maybe he is trying to tell us that it takes remarkable events to make men change while women do it by pure force of will. The men here are changed by amnesia and by amateur electro-shock therapy. The women here are reborn by their own willingness and desire to change their lives for themselves, by belief.

"Amateur," in my opinion, is Hartley's weakest work. It's still great, of course. Maybe it will be a starting point for some fans, who will then investigate his earlier, more abrupt and unique work. That would surely be a good thing.

Note: Also with Parker Posey who co-starred with Lowensohn in "Basquiat."

Hartley is credited as a co-producer, writer and director here.

Music by Jeffrey Taylor and Ned Rifle (Hartley).

(Review written in 1998)

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