The untamed loft.

Not many condo boards exercise their right of first refusal, but it seems that the board of 315 West 36th Street may have taken a disliking to the potential buyer of Sebastian Junger's two-bedroom condo.

The board of the Hell's Kitchen condo bought the nonfiction scribe out for just under his $1.27 million ask, according to city records, paying $1.23 million.  It's almost exactly the price he wanted, so we don't suppose Mr. Junger minded selling to the board too much and he made a tidy profit given that he spent only $750,000 on the apartment back in 2003.

Mr. Junger (Patrick McMullan)

Let this be an inspiration to all you mired-in-debt journalism school grads: persevere, write a best-selling nonfiction cliffhanger that's made into a feature film starring George Clooney and someday you too may have a sprawling loft apartment with 10-foot ceilings and panoramic South-facing windows. The cranky condo board is optional. Hey, at least Mr. Junger, who recently penned a new non-fiction tome about the war if Afghanistan, knows a little something about War, be it in the far reaches of the globe or within one's own boutique pre-war condo.

The apartment comes with polished concrete floors and is currently configured as "a largely unstructured space," according to the listing, held by Corcoran's Daniella Schlisser. Who would expect anything less from a chronicler of the unbounded power of nature and man's infelicitous confrontations with it? Let more timid souls carve second bathrooms and office/nurseries out of their Hell's Kitchen lofts.

Although it seems like the chronicler of disasters and death is looking for a little calm after the storm. Mr. Junger appears to have settled in the anodyne Upper West Side, listing his address on the deed as 120 West 86th Street, a pre-war rental with traditional layouts. Talk about a disappointing denouement!

kvelsey@observer.com

From May of 2007 through July of 2008, photo-journalist Tim Hetherington and writer Sebastian Junger (of Perfect Storm fame), carrying their own cameras, hunkered down to chronicle the life of a group of soldiers in the Korengal Valley in eastern Afghanistan-considered to be one of the absolutely most dangerous places to be (by the end of 2007, almost one-fifth of all the combat in Afghanistan was taking place in Korengal). Their outpost, nicknamed "Restrepo" after a beloved medic killed in the line of duty, is isolated and seems to be constantly under threat (men shot in their sleep, the camp attacked up to three or four times a day). The movie brings you up close-much, much, much closer than any civilian would probably like to be-to the action. Daily life includes no phone, no Internet, sometimes no heat or water-but plenty of cold, flies, monkeys, cursing and, oh yeah, constant threats of death punctuated by intense boredom and loneliness. The group of 15 men we get to know for 94 minutes are both heartbreakingly young and, as shown in interviews, clearly traumatized by their experiences of gruesome injuries and death. Messrs. Hetherington and Junger skip the traditional documentary customs of military talking heads, or a Sean Penn voice-over, and instead let the imagery of a reality that very few of us could imagine speak for itself, which is very effective.

It's actually hard to imagine how the filmmakers, on assignment for Vanity Fair and ABC News (Mr. Junger's latest book, War, is an extension of his experience), managed to stay put-cameras were rolling when the Humvee they were in drove over an explosive-and a recent New York Times article reported that both men sustained injury during the duration (Mr. Hetherington broke his fibula and had to walk four hours on it back to base because there were simply no other options; Mr. Junger tore his Achilles tendon). Restrepo is not just an impressive piece of journalism; it's the closest thing possible to a reenactment of deployment, without any political judgment. It's not an easy or pleasurable experience for the audience, but it's worth it.

svilkomerson@observer.com

Restrepo
Running time 94 minutes
Directed by Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger

3 Eyeballs out of 4

Admirable guesstimates of contributors' individual salaries followed.

Well, guess no more: A writer can stand to make roughly $10 a word for a 1,500-word essay in Vanity Fair. Oh, plus a trip to Italy, bringing the value of that essay to $17,725.

Alas, those figures (well over five times industry standard) don't apply to actual writers for "in-flight magazine of the Gulfstream jetset" (not so lucky, Jim), but to winners of this year's Vanity Fair Essay Contest.

The topic: What is on the minds of America's youth today? (The word "nothing" repeated 1,500 times is unlikely to win.)

Bloggers and Livejournalists, the deadline is Sept. 30, which means the winning essay won't be running in the What is on the mind of America's magazine editors today? issue of Vanity Fair.

—Matt Haber

The 41-year-old Perfect Storm author recently purchased an apartment at 315 West 36th Street for $764,500 in a converted loft building designed by the renowned Blum Brothers, two Ecole des Beaux-Arts–trained architects, city records show. The raw loft in the gritty garment district is giving him the challenge he craves.

"I like the neighborhood, I like the openness of the apartment," Mr. Junger wrote in an e-mail to The Observer , "and I like that it's a raw space."

Mr. Junger had been renting on the Lower East Side, but he decided it was time to set up a permanent camp in a more tranquil corner of the city, away from the L.E.S.'s fast-developing expansion.

"I got tired of the ice-cream truck parking below my window while I was trying to work," Mr. Junger said.

Sources familiar with the space say it will cost approximately $75 per square foot to complete the unfinished loft. And it won't be like Mariah Carey's Mario Buatta–outfitted "raw" space. Mr. Junger has a simple renovation plan that will include "two walls, two sinks and a counter for chopping onions."

"He got one of the first apartments. He just loved the space," said Hela Miodownik, a broker at Halstead Property who sold Mr. Junger the apartment along with fellow Halstead broker Charles Hawkins. "He liked the fact it had so much light."

Mr. Junger, whose books have chronicled extreme events like Atlantic Ocean tempests and wild forest fires, has used New York as a base for his far-flung reporting assignments.

The 1,510-square-foot apartment, between Eighth and Ninth avenues, was delivered as raw space with concrete floors. The building was converted to lofts in February 2003, and the bottom 10 floors remain in commercial use, housing film-editing and production companies.

"It's for people who really want to customize their space and want square footage," Ms. Miodownik said.

Mr. Junger's 14th-floor apartment is in one of the neighborhood's most distinctive buildings, featuring oversized windows and southern exposures. The building was designed in 1926 by the Blum Brothers, two of New York's iconic architects, in the Gothic deco style. The two brothers attended the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris around 1900, at the height of the Art Nouveau movement, and their buildings-including the Phaeton at 545 West 112th Street (1910), 780 West End Avenue (1914) and 791 Park Avenue (1924)-have become Manhattan landmarks.

In addition to his newly acquired garment-district spread, Mr. Junger has used his reporting gravitas to wade into the sharky waters of the New York nightlife scene as a part owner of the Chelsea bar Half King, along with fellow journalist Scott Anderson and documentary filmmaker Nanette Burstein. His new apartment is only a short hop from the Half King on West 23rd Street, making for an easy walk home fueled by pints of Guinness.

When the snows of January start to melt away, moneyed New Yorkers who don't already have a summer place start looking frantically for one. But there are no worries for Serena Altschul, the flaxen-haired CBS News correspondent and former MTV News anchor, now that she's bought an East Hampton beach house for a Hamptons-esque $1.695 million.

Ms. Altschul-whose family is still trying to unload their co-op at 993 Fifth Avenue for $11.5 million after a board turn-down-recently bought a single-floor, shingle-style beach house on Gerard Drive before the holidays (perhaps as an early Christmas gift), township records show.

"It's a waterfront property, and unique in that the house was at the end of the road. It has nature preserves on one side of the property," said Bob Lepine of Devlin McNiff, who represented the sellers along with Kathy Konzet of Sotheby's International Realty.

Ms. Altschul did not return calls seeking comment.

Jane Dillon, also of Sotheby's, represented Ms. Altschul and could not be reached for comment.

The single-level home, on just over one acre, measures 1,650 square feet, has three bedrooms and two bathrooms, and is built on stilts overlooking the ocean. Ms. Altschul, 33, may be inspired to recall fond memories of the MTV Beach House, where bleary-eyed spring-breakers caroused while being entertained by celebrity hosts like Jerry Springer. But according to sources, Ms. Altschul's new spread is much more mature, as befits a demure network correspondent.

"It's very rustic. You really feel like you're at the beach," said one source who was familiar with the property. "It's probably the way the Hamptons used to be."

Recent Transactions in the Real Estate Market

Upper East Side

300 East 62nd Street|

One-bedroom, one-bathroom condo

Asking: $635,000. Selling: $580,000.

Time on the market: three months

ANYTHING FOR LOVE Given the lengths that Manhattan buyers are willing to go in search of the perfect home, it takes a lot to make them give up their slice of the island. But one man was willing to give it all up-for love. About a year ago, the general manager of the Hillside Honda car dealership in Jamaica, Queens, bought this one-bedroom Upper East Side spread on the corner of Second Avenue and 62nd Street, and planned to move there from an apartment he'd been renting in the same building. But before he landed in his new 850-square-foot apartment-with renovated oak floors, new closets and a renovated open kitchen-he fell for a woman who lived in the wilds of Connecticut. Their romance burned bright, and he decided to leave the city life-and his new property-for domestic bliss in the suburbs. "He never actually moved in," said Jenifer Caplan, a broker at Benjamin James who represented the buyer in the all-cash deal. Luckily, he found a real-estate investor in his 30's who had been renting in the building for nine years and was ready to buy. "He didn't want to leave the building-with only five apartments on each floor, it was a very desirable address," said Ms. Caplan. And the ease of the move was another strong selling point. "He just had to move his furniture up four flights," Ms. Caplan said.

East Village

99 East Fourth Street

Two bedroom, one-bathroom co-op

Asking: $689,000. Selling: $680,000.

Maintenance: $685; 52 percent tax-deductible

Time on the market: three weeks .

HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN For every transplanted New Yorker who has arrived from the fly-over states to trade strip-mall homogeneity for downtown's trendy streets, there are still those born and bred New Yorkers who remember Avenue A before guidebook-clutching tourists could be seen traversing the windswept blocks east of the Bowery. This couple, a pair of attorneys in their mid-30's, had recently added a fourth member to their growing family and needed a larger space to accommodate the clan. But the seller had lived in the East Village his whole life, and he wanted to remain in the now-gentrified nabe. Ed Hardesty of Douglas Elliman found the couple a larger three-bedroom spread nearby on East Third Street, in the very same building where the seller had grown up. "He had never left the East Village ZIP code in his whole life, so it was like going home," Mr. Hardesty said. The couple found two eager buyers ready to own a piece of the hip East Village, and their professions befitted the area's mix of creative types: He's a novelist and contributor to The New York Sun , the 21-month-old stab at a conservative counterweight to The New York Times , and she's a hair stylist. The 900-square-foot apartment has prewar details, a recently renovated bathroom with a Jacuzzi, and a modern eat-in kitchen with granite counters.

Fort Greene

27 South Oxford Street

Four-and-a-half-bedroom, four-and-a-half-bathroom townhouse.

Asking: $1.3 million.

Selling: $1.295 million.

Time on the market: four weeks.

SO LONG, SOHO By now it's an oft-heard refrain that Brooklyn's relaxed quality of life, quiet streets and terrestrial real-estate prices beat Manhattan, where people cram into stratospherically priced apartments just to boast of a 212 area code-even if it means living in a $2,000-a-month closet on Avenue D. This particular couple-one the interior designer of the newly renovated Terminal 4 at John F. Kennedy International Airport, the other a documentary filmmaker-abandoned their 2,000-square-foot loft on Mercer Street for this luxurious Fort Greene brownstone. "They really didn't care for the pace of the city," said their broker, Jerry Minsky of the Corcoran Group. "Brooklyn must be really hot if they were willing to leave that all behind." The sellers, a couple of physicians, were seeking an even more relaxed lifestyle than Brooklyn's laid-back charm, so they set off for another Fort-this time, Lauderdale-leaving behind a lavish 4,410-square-foot townhouse on a historic block across from Fort Greene Park, where the owner of Macy's once lived before he and his wife perished on the Titanic . The new owners will live in a triplex and rent out the bottom floor. The building dates to 1864 and features original moldings, a formal dining room and 21st-century amenities, including an eat-in kitchen, a Jacuzzi and-a real luxury for city dwellers-a private backyard. "It would be a $9 million house in Manhattan," Mr. Minsky said.

Put a Lid on the Racket

Best-selling Perfect Storm author and daredevil investigative reporter Sebastian Junger has risked life and limb to get the story on atrocities in war-ravaged countries from Afghanistan to Bosnia. He has received the National Magazine Award for his 1999 reporting on the war in Kosovo and the Johns Hopkins University SAIS-Novartis International Journalism Award for his 2000 exposé on the diamond trade in Sierra Leone, both published in Vanity Fair.

Mr. Junger, in short, is a trusted journalist. But when his 23rd Street bar and restaurant, the Half King (which he owns with several partners, including Nanette Burstein, producer of this summer's well-received documentary on Robert Evans, The Kid Stays in the Picture ) promised to install soundproofing in order to reduce the noise that was disturbing a neighbor, Community Board 4 first had to see it to believe it.

In July, the Half King came before Board 4's transportation - planning committee with an application for a sidewalk café. Representatives from the Half King were joined at the meeting by their next-door neighbor, Ronnie McFadden, who had strenuous objections to the café proposal because, she explained, she was already having noise problems with the Half King. "In my 23 years of living in this house," Ms. McFadden wrote Board 4 in April, "I have encountered no other restaurant that generates as much noise as does the Half King, and so our tenants should not be burdened by additional noise."

According to several board members, the dispute at the committee meeting was so heated that the board sent one of its members to Ms. McFadden's apartment to witness the alleged disturbance in person. Although there was no audible bar noise inside the apartment, they found that it was, indeed, leaking into the hallway in Ms. McFadden's building.

Since the Half King's mahogany bar is mounted on the wall that the restaurant shares with Ms. McFadden's building, soundproofing from the Half King's side would be prohibitively expensive (the bar would actually have to be ripped out to facilitate the construction). So the Half King's owners went to Plan B, offering to soundproof the hallway outside Ms. McFadden's apartment. But she rejected that solution, on the grounds that she feared the soundproofing would make the corridor even narrower than it already is.

So in August, the Half King put a lock on its stereo to limit the volume and moved on to Plan C, promising to insulate the ceiling in its bar area to reduce the echo from the overall sounds of merriment bouncing off the wood-paneled walls and oak floor.

But by the time a letter endorsing the Half King's planned 13-table sidewalk café came before the full Board 4 at its Sept. 4 meeting, the soundproofing had yet to materialize. So the board promptly postponed its approval pending completion of the work. "One of the things we can do in granting or not granting the sidewalk café is to try to … make [the applicant] more responsive to the neighbors," Lee Compton, a member of the board's transportation-planning committee, told The Observer . "We're only in an advisory role; our recommendations have no teeth. But sometimes we can embarrass people into doing things." The board also took into account the timing of the situation. Said Mr. Compton: "You don't get much [construction] done at the end of August. I would like to give them a chance to act in good faith."

As it turned out, Mr. Junger and his Half King cohorts were as good as their word. By 11 a.m. on the following Monday morning, Sept. 9, acoustical tile had been installed in the barroom ceiling over a layer of drywall. So the Half King's sidewalk café is back on Board 4's agenda for approval this month, and it should be open for business next March.

"The acoustics in the place-we weren't too happy with them, anyway," Half King co-owner Jerome O'Connor told The Observer . "It was too loud in there." Furthermore, the Half King's owners are so happy with the new acoustical quality that they're planning to install the same soundproofing in the rest of the bar over the next several months. As for not being taken at their word by the community board, they're not taking it personally.

"I don't think it matters who owns the place-it's the procedure," Mr. O'Connor told The Observer . "I don't think it was directed at Sebastian. When somebody says they're going to do something,[community

boards] wait for them to do it and then give their approval."

-Karina Lahni

Sept. 17: Board 1, P.S. 234, 292 Greenwich Street, auditorium,

6 p.m., 442-5050; Board 11, La Guardia House, 307 East 116th Street, 6:30 p.m., 831-8929.

Sept. 18: Board 8, New York Blood Center, 310 East 67th Street, auditorium,

7 p.m., 758-4340; Board 6, New York University Medical Center, 550 First Avenue, 7 p.m., 319-3750.

Sept. 19: Board 2, Lucille Lortel Theater, 121 Christopher Street,

7 p.m., 979-2272; Board 9, 565 West 125th Street, 6:30 p.m.,

864-6200.

Sept. 24: Board 3, P.S. 20, 166 Essex Street, 6:30 p.m., 533-5300; Board 12, Columbia University Alumni Auditorium, 650 West 168th Street, 7 p.m., 568-8500.

The anthrax cases at NBC and ABC News have raised a number

of troubling questions for news networks around the city. Amid the obvious

human concerns, there's now a practical issue: Where do you do the news if you

can't use the newsroom?

On Friday, Oct. 12, NBC moved its NBC Nightly News with Tom

Brokaw broadcast at Rockefeller Center

downstairs to Studio 1A, the home of Today, when word broke that Mr. Brokaw's

assistant, Erin O'Connor, had contracted the cutaneous

form of anthrax after handling mail intended for the anchor.

It was a strange sight, one that Mr. Brokaw himself noted as

he sternly delivered reports about his own staff from a desk usually occupied

by Today news anchor Ann Curry. Mr. Brokaw and the Nightly News remained at

Studio 1A on Monday, Oct. 15, and Tuesday, Oct. 16. An NBC spokesperson said

they planned to be there until they got the go-ahead to return to their studio.

Elsewhere, news networks re-examined their options should

events-or, as in the case of NBC, a criminal and public-health

investigation-dictate that a news telecast be moved.

For ABC News, such a scenario would play out sooner than

expected. On the afternoon of Oct. 15, an ABC News spokesperson responded to a

hypothetical question by saying that the network had a long-standing

"contingency plan" to move news operations in case of an emergency. The

spokesperson declined to say where the newsroom staff could go, but possible

alternative venues presumably included ABC-Disney properties near the West

66th Street headquarters of World News Tonight

with Peter Jennings, or the Times Square studio used by

Good Morning America.

Several hours later, however, that plan became reality, as

the startling news arrived that the 7-month-old child of an ABC News producer

had contracted the cutaneous form of anthrax after

spending time in the newsroom. Though it was unclear if the child was exposed

to anthrax in the newsroom, the World News Tonight offices and some editing

facilities were shut down immediately for examination, though WNT was able to

broadcast from West 66th Street

on both Monday and Tuesday.

Over at CBS News headquarters on West 57th Street, one

emergency alternative for the CBS Evening News with Dan Rather was the G.M.

Building on 59th Street and Fifth Avenue, home of The Early Show.

"There are a lot of other studios in town, so I suspect if

you had to move, it would be easy enough," said CBS News spokeswoman Sandy Genelius. "But I'd suspect our primary backup would be the G.M.

Building."

Ms. Genelius said that CBS News

had an anthrax scare of its own at the network's Washington, D.C., bureau on

Saturday, Oct. 13, where, she said, an envelope was discovered with a powdery

white substance on its outside. The F.B.I. was notified, and an examination

that day showed no signs of anthrax, Ms. Genelius

said.

The Fox News Channel also reportedly received a suspicious

letter with a powdery white substance addressed to Fox News chairman and chief

executive Roger Ailes. (The letter tested negative

for anthrax.)

 a

Fox News spokesperson said the company did have a contingency plan, too, but

declined to give details. However, it is possible that Fox News would go to the

Upper East Side studios of WNYW Channel 5, which News

Corp. owns, or even to Secaucus, N.J.,

the home of News Corp.'s new local channel, WGN/UPN 9.

Washington, D.C.,

was also an option for Fox News, even though much of the network's evening

lineup is taped in New York.

Other network representatives said the D.C. studios could be used should a New

York newsroom operation be disrupted for a longer

period of time. NBC also has the option of using its MSNBC and CNBC studios in New

Jersey.

CNN, of course, has numerous studios outside New

York, in particular the company's sprawling

headquarters in Atlanta. A CNN

spokesperson said that the network is "taking all appropriate precautions. We

have many bureaus we can utilize in case of an emergency."

Isn't this all getting a little incredible and sad? Tonight on CNN, Larry King Live, from sunny Los Angeles-formerly

known as the land of earthquakes and drive-bys, and suddenly a serene-sounding

oasis. [CNN, 10, 9 p.m.]

Thursday, oct. 18

& ABC News has itself a new international newsman:

Sebastian Junger. Mr. Junger,

of course, wrote a little book a couple years back called The Perfect Storm,

about a fishing boat from Gloucester,

Ma. That thing sold a few copies, didn't it?

Mr. Junger is also something of an

expert on Afghanistan

and especially the Northern Alliance, having spent time

with rebels in the region prior to Sept. 11. That background attracted ABC

News, said Prime Time Thursday executive producer David Doss.

"He has a fascination with the story and the area," said Mr.

Doss.

Mr. Junger left for Pakistan

on Friday, Oct. 12. The hope is that he'll file reports from the field for

Prime Time Thursday and perhaps 20/20 and Nightline.

Mr. Doss said Mr. Junger's crew

will be relatively small, and includes veteran ABC News producer Bert Rudman and one of Mr. Junger's

old pals from his previous visit to the region.

As for Mr. Junger's relative lack

of television experience, Mr. Doss said he wasn't worried. The writer recently

did a special for the National Geographic Channel, and Mr. Doss said the ABC

News staff spent time prepping Mr. Junger for his

assignment.

"I think we're sending a really seasoned professional,

obviously an outstanding reporter and writer," Mr. Doss said. "There is always

a bit of a gamble, but with someone of his background … it seems like a pretty

good bet."

Mr. Junger, of course, is also a

contributing editor to Vanity Fair. A spokesperson for Vanity Fair said that

the magazine was aware of Mr. Junger's deal with ABC

News and had no problem with the arrangement.

Tonight on ABC, see if Mr. Junger

pops up on Prime TimeThursday. [WABC,

7, 10 p.m.]

Friday, oct. 19

& Scattered among all the fancy

network types in the dust of Pakistan

and Afghanistan

are a few local TV news people from around the country. But the only local news

guy from New York is WABC Channel

7's Jim Dolan.

Mr. Dolan's been in Islamabad,

Pakistan, for about two

weeks. "Jim is one of the most aggressive, smart guys you have ever seen," said

WABC news director Dan Forman. "He's probably one of the few television

reporters in New York that people

actually know by name."

Mr. Forman is there with veteran cameraman Joe Tesauro, Mr. Forman said.

The cost of sending a team to Pakistan

is expensive, especially by local-news-budget standards. Mr. Forman

acknowledged that before the U.S.

attack on Afghanistan

began on Oct. 7, he had considered bringing Mr. Dolan

and Mr. Tesauro back home.

"The action hadn't started yet, and we were starting to feel

that we were just repackaging stuff," he said. "Then [Oct. 7] hit and we were

there on the ground in Islamabad,

when the fur was flying, and I was really proud that we were there."

Mr. Forman said his main concern continues to be Mr. Dolan

and Mr. Tesauro's safety. "I'm anticipating [them]

staying there at least a few more weeks," Mr. Forman said on Oct. 11. "But I

don't know. It could be longer, it could be shorter. I talk to him and Joe and

make sure they're O.K., make sure their families are O.K. with it."

Mr. Forman said that the World

Trade Center

attack and its aftermath have turned the local news business on its ear.

"Everything has changed," he said. "This morning, we were

looking at a press release out of Nassau

County about an insurance scam.

Normally, that would have been a decent story for the day. We look at that and

laugh now."

We laugh, too-but tonight, it's a pained laugh for former

ABC News guy Anderson Cooper, now marooned as the host of Mole II. [WABC, 7, 8

p.m.]

Saturday, oct. 20

$ Shortly before Saturday Night Live began on Saturday, Oct.

13, executive producer Lorne Michaels assembled his cast and crew and told them

that the last three shows had been the hardest he'd ever done. Mr. Michaels

told the SNL-ers he was "incredibly proud" of how

they'd held up under the difficult circumstances. And then he told them all to

go out there and have a good show.

It has been some month for SNL, now in its 27th season.

First was the season premiere on Saturday, Sept. 29, when Mr. Michaels and the

SNL team tried to figure out a way to make comedy in the wake of the World

Trade Center

and Pentagon attacks. (Wisely, they brought in Rudy Giuliani-flanked by members

of the Fire Department, police and E.M.S.-to give them a Mayoral thumbs-up.)

Then there was the frantic Friday of Oct. 12, when SNL's home, 30 Rock, was partially evacuated. The cast was

in rehearsals that morning, and when guest host Drew Barrymore heard the news,

she went back to her hotel.

Mr. Michaels said he called Ms. Barrymore and tried to calm

her down, reassuring her it was safe to come back. He

wasn't the only one who talked to the star, who was naturally a little freaked.

"I talked to her, and I think Penny Marshall talked to her,

and I think Ellen Barkin

talked to her because she was near the hotel Drew was at," Mr. Michaels said.

"Tom [Green, Ms. Barrymore's husband] agreed to fly in [from California]."

Ms. Barrymore eventually decided to return to the set. "She

came back to the studio pretty early in the afternoon, and then she worked

until we all did, until about midnight,"

Mr. Michaels said. NBC chairman Bob Wright also spoke to Ms. Barrymore that

afternoon, he said.

The next night, Ms. Barrymore made reference to her worries

during her opening monologue, when a camera cut to Mr. Green sitting in the

audience, wearing a gas mask.

Mr. Michaels said he briefly considered shutting down on

Friday and canceling the Oct. 13 show. "I think everyone there was just

frightened," he said. "When there is anthrax in the building, and people are

lined up to be swabbed with a nasal swab and there's a big crowd, you just

don't know whether what you are doing makes any sense."

But Mr. Michaels said the SNL staff felt better after NBC

president Andy Lack came to the set on Friday and reassured them that they were

safe. They noted that Conan O'Brien had taped his show in Rockefeller

Center that afternoon. The SNL cast

and crew decided to go forward, Mr. Michaels said, adding, "Everyone was

resolute."

Another concern was the studio audience. Mr. Michaels said

he was worried no one would show up, but ticket holders were calling NBC

throughout Friday, wondering if the show would go on and pledging to attend.

When the producer left Rockefeller Center

late on Friday, he noticed that people were sleeping on 49th

Street as always, hoping to score tickets. On

Saturday, the packed house included NBC Entertainment president Jeff Zucker.

Mr. Michaels said that doing the Saturday, Oct. 13, show was

much harder than the season premiere. "I must say that if anyone from our cast

said, 'Listen, I can't do it,' I would have said, 'I understand,'" he said.

"But nobody did."

And the SNL after-party that night?

"The party," said Mr. Michaels,

"was much easier."

Tonight's SNL's a repeat with Lara

Flynn Boyle, Talk magazine's celebrity mascot. [WNBC, 4, 11:35 p.m.]

Sunday, oct. 21

# Tonight on TNT, The American

President. It makes you yearn for the old days, when Presidents worried about

stuff like getting into Annette Bening's pants. [TNT, 3, 8

p.m.]

Monday, oct. 22

b I Love Lucy turns 50 this month.

And man, if you ever get tired of listening to today's TV writers complain

about their grueling lives-15 Ivy Leaguers in Bermuda shorts yakking around

wooden tables, scarfing Yo-Yo's and coming up with

boners for Niles Crane-they should listen to people like Bob Schiller, who was

one of the four people (four!) who wrote for ILL during its seven-year run.

"They got staffs [today] resembling a New

York telephone book!" Mr. Schiller said.

What does Mr. Schiller like on TV these days? Ah, not much.

"I'm an old crank!" he said. "I don't think it's funny."

He said he liked Seinfeld and Sex and the City, the latter

of which he called "acceptable porn."

Mr. Schiller said he wasn't going overboard with the ILL

nostalgia. "If you really wanna know what I'm

thinking, I'm thinking I'm not getting any residuals and it upsets me!" he

cracked.

Tonight, Lucy-mania rages on TV Land. [TVLAND,

85, 9 p.m.]

Tuesday, oct. 23

% Will someone please spank the producers of Fox Sports? At

the end of the Yankees game on Monday, Oct. 15-when they clinched their 5-3

victory over the A's-cameras caught manager Joe Torre

walking over to the stands, grabbing Rudolph Giuliani and pulling the Mayor

onto the field, presumably to join the celebrating players.

But you didn't see that last part. Just as Mr. Torre and the Mayor began to cross the diamond arm-in-arm

in what was, for obvious reasons, one of the more touching and meaningful

sports moments this city has witnessed in recent years, Fox Sports cut to … a

meaningless promo for the season premiere of The X-Files!

Thanks a lot, boneheads.

Believe it or not, that wasn't even Fox Sports' biggest

blunder of the week. The night before, at the conclusion of the

Diamondbacks-Cardinals series, after watching Diamondbacks hero Tony Womack in

an emotional embrace with a woman on the field, Fox play-by-play guy Joe Buck

asked Mr. Womack: "Tony, was that your mother giving you a hug?"

Said Mr. Womack: "No, that was my wife."

Yeeeeeeeee-ikes! Tonight on Fox, Dark Angel. Tell Rudy to call a press

conference just for the hell of it, so he can pre-empt it. [FOX,

5, 9 p.m.

Hair today? Though New York women showed no hesitancy about gleefully nuding up during the recent heat wave, it's still 50 days till summer that hot, withering time of year that brainwashes otherwise normal, law-abiding New Yorkers into thinking there is something appealing about spending your weekends in overpriced, overcrowded, socially B-list (oops, make that C-list) "beach towns" on Long Island . Cooler heads know Manhattan is the place to be during Brazilian bikini-wax season (rrr-rrr-rrip!) . Let's see, what other unwanted body hair can you obsess about until then? How about the little downy fringe on the upper lip? Meet Vaniqa! No, not Prince's latest backup singer, but rather a new, heavily promoted substance that reduces the growth of facial hair the yin to Rogaine's yang. Tonight, with no apparent irony, the Vaniqa folks co-sponsor the premiere of a film about self- esteem called I Am My Mother's Daughter. In the movie and at the party: thinking man's sex symbol Meredith Vieira from The View; WNBA star Rebecca Lobo; Amy Brenneman, who plays a judge on TV, and her mom, who's a real judge. It had not been determined as of press time whether these lovely ladies are Vaniqa users or if they're even aware of what it is. Adding to the festive spirit, some female chefs and their daughters will cook. Cultural subtext of evening: We've come a lo-oo-ong way, baby but now we want to sit down for a rest!

[Equitable Center, 6 p.m., 787 Seventh Avenue, 877-6ESTEEM.]

Sondheimlich maneuver: When thea-tuh people are just little ambitious buds waiting to bloom, they chew up the scenery trying to get into Stephen Sondheim's Young Playwrights Festival, which has launched the careers of Kenneth Lonergan (You Can Count on Me, highly acclaimed movie nobody we know has actually seen) and Rebecca Gilman (wrote the racially charged Spinning Into Butter). Tonight, the talented and charming Wendy Wasserstein who wrote one play a long time ago and then kept writing it, again and again and again, with great success co-hosts the 20th anniversary party for the festival. Bring a copy of Shiksa Goddess for her to sign. Meanwhile, George Plimpton stocks his East Side apartment with gin, vaguely seedy male "literary types" (guys who smell a little like cabbage, wear Emporio Armani and nurse a deep bitterness because they "sold out" and took jobs as editors at women's fashion magazines) and nubile, 22-year-old women throbbing with literary ambition, to celebrate Robert Antoni's book of short stories, My Grandmother's Erotic Folktales. Mr. Antoni's bio says he "divides his time" between Miami, the Caribbean and Barcelona so why does he look so grim (see brooding photo)?

[Young Playwrights, Laura Belle, 120 West 43rd Street, 6 p.m., 307-1140; George Plimpton's party, somewhere on the Upper East Side we're not saying exactly where by invitation only, 6 p.m., 614-7869.]

Thursday 10th

All that Chazz! O.K., you want big benefits, we got big benefits . Remember Chazz Palminteri? This nice, pre-Sopr-anos Italian-American actor hosts a benefit, with honoree Rudolph Giuliani, for the National Cooley's Anemia Foundation. (Expect His Honor to do his favorite bits from The Godfather, as he is wont to do whenever opportunity presents itself, or even if it doesn't . Which reminds us, if Mark Green becomes our next Mayor, are we going to have to sit through off-key imitations of scenes from The Princess Bride?) Meanwhile, His Serene Highness Crown Prince Albert of Monaco how'd ya like that stitched on your shirt cuff? who doubtless has a lifetime supply of Rogaine tucked away in the palace bathroom, hits a benefit performance of the revival Bells Are Ringing . Cast features Jeffrey Bean, not the same thing as designer Geoffrey Beene we think. Finally, the Lenox Hill Neighborhood House throws a gala preview of the 468th art fair this spring, covering the Renaissance to the 1940's. Whom you'll stand near, awkwardly clutching your chilly glass of white wine, and fail to recognize: billionaire Mayoral teaser Michael Bloomberg, billionaire song-and-dance man Edgar Bronfman Jr. and non- billionaire but still plenty rich socialite Bunny Williams. Hop, hop, hop .

[Anemia gala, Central Park at West 67th Street, 6:30 p.m., 800-522-7222; Bells Are Ringing benefit, Baldoria, 249 West 49th Street, 5:30 p.m., performance to follow, Plymouth Theatre, 236 West 45th Street, 317-1470; Lenox Hill Neighborhood House, Seventh Regiment Armory, 67th Street and Park Avenue, 6 p.m., 744-5022, ext. 1379.]

Friday 11th

Lord and Lady Glenconner? Crash strategy: perverted schoolgirl kilt, knee socks . Who the hell are these people? He is a Scottish lord who colonized Mustique, the celebrity playground. His wife is a lady-in-waiting for Princess Margaret (waiting for what, we don't know . ) Your crazy hodgepodge of fellow guests will include Katie Couric, those fastidious Herrera sisters (don't ask Patricia about that little Vanity Fair mishap).

[Connors-Rosato Fine Art and Antiques, 39 Great Jones Street, 6 p.m., by invitation only, 473-0377.]

Manhattan, when I was Junger: Bar owner and author-bodybuilder Sebastian Junger puts his shirt on, leaves his hoppin' bar in Chelsea and heads to Maritime College in the Bronx for a book signing and benefit for the Sebastian Junger Cadet Scholarship. Tomorrow, the college returns the favor and makes him an Honorary Doctor of Letters as female Seabees pelt him with their bloomers.

[Vander Clute Hall, Maritime College Campus, 6 Pennyfield Avenue, the Bronx, 6 p.m., 718-409-7459.]

Saturday 12th

Brunch zones to avoid today: West 92nd Street, where the West Side Montessori School is having a street fair (Space Walk, face painting and the school's trolley, powered up and down the block by the school's parents stand back, that guy looks drunk!); and the area around the Brooklyn Brewery, where a day-long Pig-Fest will perfume the air with the smell of roasting pork for at least 24 hours. For a more civil festivus, put on your new, blister-inducing Nine West knockoffs of those Miu Miu "1940's revival" pumps and trip over to Dag Hammarskjöld Plaza Park near the United Nations, which is celebrating Katharine Hepburn's birthday in the garden they named for the actress, with coffee, a dedication of engraved stones (including a Spencer Tracy one), 1940's music and cake! "It's just a cake, just a big sheet cake," said D.H.P. prez Anne Saxon Hersh. "It's a very naturalized garden mostly shrubs and woodies." Kate won't be able to make it, but you can sign a card. Our big-cheese editor is refilling his fountain pen.

[Dag Hammarskjöld Plaza Park, 2 p.m., 47th Street between First and Second avenues, 541-4453.]

Sunday 13th

Yummy mummies! It's Mother's Day and in the same vein as the Vaniqa self-esteem event of a few days back, Allure magazine has decided to hold a "Keeping America Beautiful" half-marathon . Loping Condé Nasties slurp at cherry FrozFruits; Linda Wells gives a speech; everybody feels vaguely distressed but doesn't know why. What it benefits: the American Cancer Society. Afterwards, shower and dress yourself in a tailored shift and take Mom to the Jackie O. exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, curated by Hamish ("Little Lord Fauntleroy") Bowles. Look for slighted Jackie designer Oleg Cassini snarling behind a pillar .

[Allure race, register near West Side Drive and 67th Street, 7 a.m., 860-4455.]

Monday 14th

Great gallopin' galas! Oh, baby, the fun just don't stop . This town is gonna suck up all the bucks it can before all the money breaks for the beach in June . Spin the fund-raiser roulette wheel at Lincoln Center tonight and here's what you get: In this corner, Liz Smith hosts an evening of readings to benefit Literacy Partners, with humorist David Sedaris, fiction writer Ann Beattie, biographer Robert Caro and the inevitable Tom Brokaw . Then hop across the plaza to the Metropolitan Opera House, where the American Ballet Theater's gazelle-like dancers get jiggy in a benefit performance of Giselle (no, Allure editors nothing to do with the Brazilian-bombshell model) for Action Against Hunger. Meanwhile, our big-cheese editor is going absolutely bonkers, because Liza Minnelli is going to be at the Hilton Hotel for a dinner benefiting the Joseph Papp Children's Humanitarian Fund. Your M.C.: Tony ("Legs") Randall.

[Literacy Partners, cocktails and readings, Vivian Beaumont Theater, Lincoln Center, 6 p.m., dinner-dance to follow, Promenade, New York State Theater, Lincoln Center, 573-6933; Action Against Hunger, Metropolitan Opera House, 150 West 65th Street, 8 p.m., cocktail party to follow, 70 Lincoln Center, Stanley Kaplan Penthouse, 967-7800; Joseph Papp Children's Humani- tarian Fund, Hilton New York, 1335 Avenue of the Americas, 6 p.m., 718-467-6630, ext. 212.]

Tuesday 15th

If you're a size 6 to 10 and you're not really allowed to be anything else in Manhattan, unless you've gone the perfectly respectable caftans-and-bangles-and-hearty-laugh-and-subscription-to-The-New-York-Review-of-Books route you'll be welcome at a Showroom Seven sample sale, with items from rich bohemian labels such as Ghost, Whistles and Kitty Boots. Meow!

[498 Seventh Avenue, 10 a.m., cash and major credit cards accepted, 643-4810.]

Never you mind that silly talk of federal antitrust indictments auction houses are still a lot of fun! At Sotheby's, they're finally selling off that creepy 1988 Jeff Koons sculpture, Michael Jackson and Bubbles (est. $3 million to $4 million), which apparently didn't get any buyers when it was advertised as a "commemorative figurine" for $29.99 in the back pages of The New Yorker. Meanwhile, over at Doyle, they take time out from gloating over former Sotheby's chairman Alfred Taubman's upcoming court dates to listen to two Russians Sergei Kuznetsov, chief conservator at the Stroganoff Palace, and Alexi Guzanov, chief curator of the Pavlovsk Palace Museum deliver a lecture on the Stroganoff Collection . Who were the Stroganoffs? "They have a beef dish named after them, ha ha ha," said Doyle mouthpiece Louis Weber. But seriously, folks . "For almost 500 years, the Stroganoffs were a major, major cultural force in Russia, buying and commissioning art. This family just built a tradition of buying and buying and buying; there is no modern equivalent. The scale was just enormous amazingly extravagant, so expensive. Oh my word, I'm looking at Rubens, I'm looking at Raphael, I'm looking at Rembrandt." Simmer down, fella .

[Stroganoff lecture, Doyle New York, 175 East 87th Street, 6:30 p.m., 427-4141, ext. 600; Jeff Koons, at the Auction of Contemporary Art, Sotheby's, 1334 York Avenue, 7 p.m., 606-7000.]

Wednesday 16th

Gee, how'd they think of this? The movie's title: Startup.com. The plot: Web site starts with tiny staff, balloons to $50 million company with 200 employees and well, you can guess the rest. Go ahead, indulge in a little Schadenfreude how else are you going to make it through spring's forced bonhomie?

[Film Forum, 209 West Houston Street, 727-8110 for times.]

You Nielsen idiots . You were watching The West Wing . Don't you get enough of that stuff from CNN?

After an initial skepticism, we'd started quietly shuffling social engagements to make it to the couch by 9 on Wednesdays. That was a cozy, familiar feeling. The $treet was fixing to be our new Melrose Place , with 90210 alumna Jennie Garth in the Heather Locklear "special guest star" role.

The pleasure wasn't all selfish–that show was going to make careers: Jennifer Connelly (as Catherine Miller) would at long last be remembered for more than just Labyrinth , the 1986 clunker with David Bowie. Tom Everett Scott (as Jack Kenderson)–a peculiar yet somehow sensible hybrid of Tom Hanks, Rupert Everett and Campbell Scott–would set himself apart from all those other young actors with strong jaws, three names and thick shocks of hair. The loopily cunning Bridgette Sampras-Wilson (named simply "Bridget" on the program) was poised to justify her tennis-champion husband Pete's recent losing streak. Now she's just another Brooke Shields!

Thanks a bunch, Fox. You cowards .

Maybe The $treet just possessed too much genuine New York color to succeed in the hinterlands. In real life, the premiere's after-party was held at Eugene, a nightclub on 24th $treet; meanwhile, on the show, chump intern Sherman had a birthday party held at a boîte called Eugene. The leading lady played by husky-voiced unknown Nina Garbiras was named Alexandra Brill ( Brill! ). Ethnic and class diversity abounded. Some of us had already taken the time to develop a crush on the sweet working-class trader Mark McConnell, played by Sean Maher. Time wasted.

If you watch a lot of TV, you might remember Mr. Maher from his role as Neve Campbell's abusive boyfriend on Party of Five . And indeed, part of the appeal of The $treet was its nods, obvious or otherwise, to shows or stars that were somehow sibling. That guy who played Sherman, Christian Campbell? He's actually Neve's little brother. The nebbishy intellectual Evan Mitchell bedded a woman because she fulfilled his Xena fantasies. (What's more, the actor who played Evan, Adam Goldberg, starred in another short-lived drama, Relativity, which also starred Kimberly Williams, a former flame of … Pete Sampras .) Even Molly Ringwald, our old friend from the 1980's, popped up for a few scenes in Episode 2.

Yet this combination of clever references, fresh young faces and frenetically buzzing electronic tickers was, alas, not enough for the fools who failed to flock to The $treet .

– Alexandra Jacobs

No Helen Hunt

The following current films do not feature a performance by Helen Hunt:

Rugrats in Paris; Vertical Limit; Dungeons & Dragons; Unbreakable; Dude, Where's My Car?; Meet the Parents; Billy Elliot; 102 Dalmatians; Charlie's Angels; Quills; Bounce .

–Jason Gay

The Perfect Portfolio

[Sebastian] Junger puts his net worth at about $1.5 million …. Through his accountant, Mr. Junger met Richard Wald, a financial consultant at Merrill Lynch who now manages his portfolio. Mr. Junger's mandate was simple. "I told my broker: 'Just don't lose it. Keep up with inflation,'" he said. "But even if I lost it, I could just write another book." Staying within those constraints, Mr. Wald said he had invested 35 percent of Mr. Junger's portfolio in tax-free municipal bonds. The balance is in

equities, weighted heavily toward brand-name stocks like Cisco Systems, Merck, Citigroup and America Online, he added.

–from a Sunday, Dec. 3, New York Times article, "Talking Money With Sebastian Junger; From 'The Perfect Storm,' A Passage to Financial Freedom."

The week of Dec. 3 through 9 was one of the tightest on record for Andrew Goldman, a 28-year-old journalist living and working in New York. Mr. Goldman had gotten paid on Dec. 1, and after a weekend of burritos, he didn't have any money left over. That fact did not concern him greatly. That's because Mr. Goldman–like a lot of young professional writers in similar circumstances–has developed creative strategies to deal with his cash shortfall.

"The deal I made with myself is that I just wouldn't open my mail for a while," a groggy Mr. Goldman said on a recent morning. "It's not such a big deal. The landlord's friendly. Con Ed's all about hollow threats."

Wishing to sleep in, Mr. Goldman referred specific questions about his personal finances to his accountant and investment adviser in Portland, Me., Carlene Goldman. Ms. Goldman, who is also Andrew Goldman's mother, has prepared her son's taxes for the last five years. Though Ms. Goldman said that Mr. Goldman was now in a "much higher" income bracket than the days when he was paid $3.75 an hour to wear a bear suit to advertise for a local Maine toy store, she did concede that her client's portfolio was "decidedly weak and underfinanced."

Mr. Goldman's long-term financial planning is particularly problematic. Mr. Goldman's lone investment, Ms. Goldman said, is an interest-bearing savings account at the People's Heritage Bank in Portland, Me. The balance of the account is $487.56, according to Ms. Goldman. "However," the financial counselor said, "you have to remember that the bank book hasn't been updated since May. I would estimate that since May, it could yield an additional $2.50, since the interest accrues at a monthly rate, anywhere from 31 to 34 cents." Ms. Goldman added that Mr. Goldman also possessed approximately eight dollars' worth of pennies in a glass jar in Maine.

Ms. Goldman was vague about Mr. Goldman's other assets. She did say that if her son were ever tight on cash, she was prepared to liquidate some of his rare book collection, the centerpiece of which is a near-complete set of Howard the Duck comic books, as well as what Ms. Goldman described as "some really despicable pornography."

In the meantime, Ms. Goldman has recommended that Mr. Goldman try his best to limit his expenditures–until, as he has promised, his first multimillion-dollar script is purchased by a major Hollywood studio. So unlike a lot of his fellow twentysomething writers, Mr. Goldman has declined to purchase a townhouse; instead, he pays $725 per month to share a narrow fifth-floor walkup in the Lower East Side with a subletter he's "pretty sure" is named Chris.

Later that afternoon, Mr. Goldman greeted a visitor at his apartment. It was 1:30 p.m., and the journalist was unclothed except for a Joe Camel towel jammed like a loin cloth between his legs.

"So you want the tour?" Mr. Goldman asked, spinning around in the submarine-tight front hallway. "Here you go. This here is the subletter's room, those are his piles of old magazines, that's the kitchen, that's the bathroom, and that's my room."

Mr. Goldman has taken a minimalist approach to furnishing his apartment. His white plastic love seat, for example, was left behind by a previous tenant. So was his television set–though, he added, the previous tenant has been asking for it back. Mr. Goldman's bed–which he had just vacated–also came with the apartment. "The trick was, taking off the old apartment sheets and putting my personal sheets on it," Mr. Goldman said. "After about nine months, it stopped smelling weird."

As for clothing, Mr. Goldman said he has not shopped for clothes in a year. He remembered a trip to Century 21 when he first arrived in New York, and an afternoon emergency in which he went to Bergdorf Goodman to use the men's room. Mr. Goldman then pointed proudly to the Joe Camel towel around his waist. "This!" he exclaimed. "I got this for 50 Camel Bucks!"

Dining in New York also presents some problems for Mr. Goldman. "You know, I went out to eat the other night, and when it came time to pay, I was like, 'How much money do you need?'" he recalled. "You know, I could have been the guy going around the table collecting the money– maybe, you know, I could come out of it three or four dollars richer. But when it comes down to it, the stress of, you know, figuring out who ordered the steak or who got dessert, it's just way too much for me. I'll leave it to the pros."

As he headed off to take a shower, Mr. Goldman said he couldn't say exactly what his net worth was. As for future investments, Mr. Goldman again mentioned those multi-million-dollar screenplay ideas, and also spoke wishfully of "getting hurt in an accident at work–not so bad that I couldn't still write, but bad enough so that I'd get worker's comp and wouldn't have to go into the office."

A few minutes later, Mr. Goldman thrust his hand out through the shower curtain to show a reporter a bottle of Olay shower gel.

"I think this stuff came in a gift bag from some movie premiere," he said. "It ' s great because it works as soap and as shampoo, and I didn't pay a dime for it."

–Andrew Goldman

Mr. Petersen and his army of collaborators have swum against the current of contemporary boomer, yuppie and Bobo cynicism and complacency in moviegoing tastes to honor the decency and nobility of honest, physically strenuous labor in an essential industry that's often inadequately paying, considering the fearsome dangers involved. One has to go back to the Hollywood hardscrabble movies of the 30's and 40's, the proletarian epics of the same period from France and Italy, and the Griersonian documentary movements in Britain and Canada to find such an emotional commitment to the fate and plight of working-class lives.

Yet there is nothing bloodlessly abstract or fuzzily sentimental about the characters in The Perfect Storm . I can't remember another disaster movie in which the deepest feelings are so unaffectedly displayed even before the main action begins. Much of the grown-up quality of the adventure can be attributed to the well-worn, salt-soaked, lived-in performances of a finely chosen acting ensemble, both male and female, and the genre affinity of the film's director, best known previously for Das Boot ( The Boat , 1981), an accomplished German U-boat adventure. Mr. Petersen explains his fascination with Mr. Junger's best-selling nonfiction account in the film's production notes: "I've always been drawn to the sea. I think maybe it's the last frontier for people to go out and have adventures. It's an unknown world that's constantly changing."

But mere attention to a sea story was hardly sufficient to overcome all the obstacles to bringing the project to fruition. Industrial Light & Magic and its visual effects supervisor Stefen Fangmeier were entrusted with the prodigious task of manufacturing a credible-looking storm at sea. My inexpert eyes told me the I.L.M. crew succeeded in their endeavor, although that in itself was not what impressed me the most about the movie. Someone else had to make us care about what happened, and here Mr. Petersen is singularly generous to the writing talent on the film: "This is a story with many characters, all of them heroic in their own way, all of them with individual stories that play out at the same time: some at sea, some on land, some in helicopters, many on different boats. And, of course, the storm itself is a major character. We were fortunate to find writers who could weave all those storylines together."

Not having read Mr. Junger's book, I cannot fully credit all of the screenplay's felicities to the screenwriter, Mr. Wittliff. But the apparently communal feelings of love and appreciation on the set for devotion to duty and for old-fashioned character in the story carries over to the screen.

George Clooney is another major auteur of the film, though the Hollywood wiseacres still seem to downgrade him as a star because he didn't gross a zillion dollars with the Batman franchise. Indeed, he seems less interested in getting into the aging 20-mil-per-pic club than in taking up challenging projects that are not pre-sold as recycled brainless macho fantasies. In this context, The Perfect Storm towers over the M:I-2 mish-mosh artistically if not commercially. And Mr. Clooney's gritty performance as the Ahab-like Captain Billy Tyne caps an impressive trio of complex, unglamorously charismatic performances, the others being his morally redeemed Sergeant Major Archie Gates in David O. Russell's Three Kings (1999), and his sympathetic bank robber Jack Foley in Steven Soderbergh's Out of Sight (1998).

Much of the pathos in the film is generated by the kind of marital breakups familiar to us from old airplane movies and new cop thrillers. Mark Wahlberg's Bobby Shatford is sorely tempted to quit fishing because his girlfriend, Christina (Chris) Cotter, played by Diane Lane, wants him to, and because he can't stand to be separated from her for months at a time. But he has a divorce lawyer to pay off and needs enough money left over to start a new life with Chris. Fishing is the only way he knows to make enough income for his two objectives. Bobby and Chris make up the most conspicuously passionate couple in the film, and they become emblematic of all the men who go out to sea and the women who wait fearfully for them on shore, much as the women of the miners in John Ford's How Green Was My Valley (1941) waited for their husbands, fathers and brothers to come home from the coal pits.

John C. Reilly's Murph, another crew member of Captain Billy's Andrea Gail , is heartsick over his divorce and separation from his adoring little boy. Captain Billy mourns his own lost wife and his two little girls, visible to him only in a snapshot he keeps on the ship. There is a curiously platonic relationship between Captain Billy and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio's Linda Greenlaw, his friendly rival whose luck on the high seas has turned good just as Billy's has turned bad. Yet the most lyrical language in the film is concentrated in their random conversations in person and on their radio exchanges.

Among the other crew men of the Andrea Gail , William Fichtner's Sully, Allen Payne's Alfred Pierre and John Hawkes' Bugsy each establishes a piquant identity as well as a convincing camaraderie, and if you look carefully, you can catch Cherry Jones as Edie Bailey, a comparatively affluent passenger on a luxury sailboat menaced by the equalizing trauma of a storm to end all storms. The magnificently malignant waves do not discriminate here between classes or genders. The Coast Guard rescuers on the sea and in the air make up a separate chapter on professional heroism and self-sacrifice. The Perfect Storm is close to a perfect picture, graced with working-stiff grandeur.

Single French Female Seeks Fantasy Man

Frédéric Fonteyne's A Pornographic Affair ( Une Liaison Pornographique ) is anything but. Nathalie Baye's single French female places a personal ad in a specialized magazine, and out of several applicants she chooses a man, played by Sergi López, to help her fulfill a sexual fantasy. We never learn what that fantasy is, either visually or conversationally, but the relationship flourishes to the point that lovers still anonymous to each other begin to consider a more serious commitment. For once, the hotel room door does not remain teasingly closed to the audience during the sexual activity inside. On this occasion the camera records a conventionally passionate copulation, which, under the peculiar circumstances, qualifies as an experimental adventure.

The story is artfully told through a series of flashbacks in which the man and the woman separately reveal their most intimate thought processes to an unseen anonymous interviewer. The fact that there are no joint interviews suggests two post-mortems on a failed alliance. This is the sort of bittersweet relationship on which the French have a virtual monopoly. Still, the surprisingly deep and poignant emotions generated by the universal vulnerability and fear of rejection shared by both characters and both sexes can be credited to the special charms and talents of Ms. Baye and Mr. López.

The flashbacks never indulge in the easy farce of he-said-she-said discrepancies and misunderstandings. This gives the film a double-edged pathos of lost nerves and missed opportunities with which most of us can identify. After all, who among us hasn't said the wrong thing at the wrong time at the wrong place to the wrong person? In his convoluted way, Mr. Fonteyne reminds us entertainingly that the outcomes of affairs of the heart are invariably matters of timing.

Private Eye, Public Nuisance

Alan Rudolph's Trixie has been designated by its excessively eccentric writer-director as a demonstration of screwball noir , thus evoking all sorts of pleasant memories of Hollywood movies of the 30's and 40's. Mr. Rudolph was brought up in the movie business, and has long functioned as a self-acknowledged and admiring disciple of his frequent producer, Robert Altman. I must confess that of the dozen or so films Mr. Rudolph has made, the only one that impressed me even moderately was Mortal Thoughts (1991), with Demi Moore, Glenne Headly, Bruce Willis and Harvey Keitel, and in that one he was not credited with the screenplay. For the rest, I have found his allegedly "musical" mode of storytelling forced and incoherent.

My problem with Trixie begins with Emily Watson's weird accent in the title role, a wacky would-be private eye who operates mostly as a public nuisance, with a witless malapropism for every occasion. She fearlessly confronts every sort of bad guy imaginable and emerges not only unscathed, but deductively triumphant. I have never seen such an array of competent performers like Dermot Mulroney, Nick Nolte, Brittany Murphy, Lesley Ann Warren and Will Patton made to seem so desperately hammy in response to Trixie's mystifying provocations. Only Nathan Lane manages to retain some professional poise as a self-deprecating gambling casino entertainer. Trixie ultimately proves that nothing fails so dismally as failed whimsy.