McCORMICK'S QUICK TAKES.

Little Voice (Miramax: 1998) There are echoes of Rain Man in this poignant and darkly enchanting Cinderella tale of a terminally shy girl living in the shadow of her blustering, oversexed mother. Laura (Jane Horrocks)--who's been dubbed Little Voice (or LV) by her pile-driving party-girl of a mom, Marl (Brenda Blethyn)--spends her days listening to old Judy Garland, Marlene Dietrich, and Marilyn Monroe LPs and whispering terrified responses to the world outside her bedroom.

But as lowlife talent agent and Mari's current boyfriend Ray Say (Michael Caine) soon discovers, there's a stack of gold records beating inside the trembling heart of this reluctant little nightingale. The magic of this musical savant may not be enough to bring Ray and Marl their pot of gold, but there's sufficient redemption and entertainment here to take anybody over the rainbow. (R for rough language and partial nudity) *** 1/2

Central Station (Sony Pictures Classics: 1998) In Brazilian filmmaker Walter Salles' masterfully understated parable of unlikely redemption, Dora (Fernanda Montenegro) is a callous ex-school-teacher who has set up shop in Rio's main train station, writing--but never delivering--letters for the hopeful and desperate. One day, however, this merchant of broken dreams is confronted with the orphan (Vinicius de Olivera) of a client she has betrayed, a child whose savvy intelligence and flail humanity ultimately awaken Dora's dormant conscience and send both on a soul-searching pilgrimage of hope and transformation.

This is a luminous film that makes subtitles worth the effort, a story that mocks the sloppy sentimentality of the usual Hollywood fare. (R for brief violence and mild profanity) *** 1/2

Tea With Mussolini (MGM: 1999) Like spotting a procession of bishops at the zoo, there is always something incongruous and enchanting about Brits afoot in Italy--particularly when the bevy of expatriate divas slumming about in Florentine cafes and hotels includes the likes of Maggie Smith, Joan Plowright, Judi Dench, and their American friends, Lily Tomlin and Cher.

Smith is the wildly entertaining aristocratic snob at the center of this circle of tea-sipping "Scorpioni," a woman whose disdain for all things not quite British enough goes hand in glove with a gaping blind spot for Mussolini's swaggering braggadocio.

This isn't a serious film about prewar decadence or deception, but rather the sort of delightful Harlequin tale one might peruse while on holiday, in, say ... Florence. ** 1/2

The Matrix (Warner Bros: 1999) Imagine young Luke Skywalker playing Shane: The Terminator in an adrenaline-rushing roller coaster of a tale that blurs the difference between movie and video game, and you've got the general idea of this Keanu Reeves flick Ultraslick and hyperviolent, this admittedly pretentious apocalyptic sci-fi tale isn't for everyone, particularly not the young. Still, along with the pleasures of its special effects and the satirical deadpan performances by its cast (all sporting "shades" of Men in Black), Matrix explores--albeit in a wistful and shallow fashion--just what it means to be a nation of watchers, plugged into our monitors and video games. No Fahrenheit 451, this film doesn't so much preach against the addictive entropy of TV viewing, but wonders how we got to a place where we confuse watching with doing. (R for some video violence) ** 1/2