I am, as you may know, one of those rare persons who actually likes, even loves, Ang Lee's HULK. I find it a fascinating and finely-crafted experiment, a kind of arthouse superhero film, a Greek drama of a father-son struggle that can only lead to a horrendous, deus-ex-machina death. But I also recognize its limitations; the plot is complex and sometimes inscrutable for first or even third-time viewers, and is not true either to its comic-book or popluar TV-series origins. The action scenes are few and far between, and the Hulk-dog battle is so poorly-lit as to be unwatchable on some monitors unless you brighten the picture. For some critics of the movie, only the desert sequence is salvageable as anything approximating their conception of the Hulk, and I agree that these scenes are exhilerating and hit very close to the mark. For me, somehow, the rest of the film clicks -- I "get" it; it works beautifully on an intellectual and emotional level. But I recognize that not everyone can be expected to devote the loving attention to it that I have done, in trying to understand its bizarre twists and intricacies, its artful use of split-screen imagery, its Jungian underpinnings. For most people, it is an unintelligible trainwreck of a movie.