Lovers and gay men and inspirational high-school teachers and the crowded streets of Heaven. Everyone looked so effing young 20 years ago. Look at Emma! Ralph Fiennes (brief glimpse) looks like he’s 17. Larry Fishburne was a Best Actor nominee for What’s Love Got To Do With It? (which I’d frankly forgotten about) and Anthony Hopkins was Best Actor-nominated for Remains of the Day. Quite the time for Liam Neeson with Schindler’s List and Husbands and Wives under his belt, and Michael Collins two years into his future. Neeson’s name and the word “paycheck” would be all but synonymous 20 years later, but this was the beginning of Bill Clinton‘s second year in the White House and all seemed well for the time being. (No one was quite sensing the coming of Newt Gingrich and the first stirrings of Republican insanity.) I was doing a weekly column for the N.Y Daily News Sunday movie section back then plus Entertainment Weekly and L.A. Times “Calendar” filings. Clunky IBM desktop computers, not much internet activity, pre-Harry Knowles and Matt Drudge. Glenn Kenny‘s association with Premiere wouldn’t begin for another two years. Jett was only five and a half and Dylan was four.