AIDS-infected lawyer sues the company that fired him. Director Jonathan Demme, perhaps doing penance for making transsexuals look bad in "The Silence of the Lambs", wants to walk the fence throughout "Philadelphia", determined to show all sides and give every voice an opportunity to be heard. That's fine, but there's so much sentiment poured into the mix that it's clear Demme wants us to love and adore the Hanks character. I saw no reason for it. As tragic as the illness is, the character as written isn't very interesting or sympathetic. His family (devoted sweater-wearing types who live in a Norman Rockwell world) and his love-interest (Antonio Banderas) aren't terribly believable (Banderas is just kept around for a dance and a pat on the hand; we get little evidence of their commitment as a couple). The film looks fine and is well-made (except for those extreme close-ups of Jason Robards' snarling face: "For Chrissake, someone call a doctor!"), but it isn't an exceptionally moving picture. Instead, it's solemn, sobering, and a bit stand-offish. **1/2 from ****