MovieJuice! interviews Catherine Zeta-Jones in RealAudio. Who would have known she would be so attracted to me. Stay tuned!
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ENTRAPMENT - A-CUTE CONNORRHEA
by Mark Ramsey
http://www.moviejuice.com
May 1, 1999
You know you're in trouble when your eyes roll the minute a movie starts and the words "New York - 16 Days to the Millennium" flash on screen. Oh jeez. I'm O.K., you're O.K., Y2K, what the hey.
Forget Y2K. Personally, I'm looking forward to Y3K and the headline: "Star Wars buzz finally subsides!"
Entrapment stars Sean Connery, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and - truth be told - Catherine's fine, squirmy ass. So slithery was this superior posterior, no highway cone was left un-serpentined. I'd give this ass two big thumbs up, but that just doesn't sound right.
The sight of this rare derriere so impressed Simpsons creator Matt Groening, he now plans a new Fox animated series in tribute: Assarama! Special guest stars: Val Kilmer and Dustin Hoffman.
As Catherine tai-chis and ballets, doing the laser beam limbo, in a tight black leather catsuit, her gourmet-quality, British-engineered butt shouts "look at me" like Sean's gun-blazing Aston-Martin DB5 or Whitney Houston at a Bobby Brown pre-trial hearing.
I can't wait to test the inflection points on the action figure! My bun-tressed Princess Leia doll's been waiting for a same-sex partner for years - any way to escape the "Debbie Reynolds mother-in-law" doll who's still yearns for the "Eddie Fisher two-timer" doll and rants about the "That White Diamonds Bitch Elizabeth Taylor" doll.
Why does Entrapment suck? I'm not sure, but I know somehow that Marilyn Manson, Rammstein, Doom, Howard Stern, and The Basketball Diaries are to blame, not the movie itself. As venerable Entertainment Weekly says, "The script is an unmellifluous hash of the prosaically obvious and the woodenly flip." Uh, exactly! And don't forget the ass!
Cathy and Sean play "Gin and Mac," which is one happy meal you won't find at Mickey D's any time soon.
Sean is king of the crooks and Cathy's the queen of the capers, the princess of purloins (with the accent on "loins"). Naturally, they fall head over heels for each other - or, in Sean's case, walker over curb.
Yes, it's like Tracy and Hepburn's ass or Bogart and Bacall's ass. Just pretend that Tracy or Bogart are old enough to be ass's long dead ancestor. Cathy, you see, was born the year man first set foot on the moon, while Sean was born the year the expression "Tippicanoe and Tyler Too" was in vogue.
Fortunately, Lucky Sean earned a berth on Noah's Ark thanks to his possession of a unique species: Impossibly jet-black eyebrows.
Just listen to this exchange:
Cathy: Sean, what's the 4-1-1 on that new Nas track?
Sean: Er, you mean music? Actually, I'm partial to Cab Calloway and the DeFranco family. And those Cowsills! Damn! When they strike up the band the dames really shake their tootsies. In my day, Puff Daddy was a fine Cuban Cigar. Have you seen that new flick "Goodbye Mr. Chips"? Jolly good fun, except for the script which is an unmellifluous hash of the prosaically obvious and the woodenly flip.
For the most part, this pair's all business. To prep for their crime, Sean trains Cathy like Burgess Meredith trained Rocky. "Crawl around on the floor blindfolded and undulate your ass, Rock!"
Together, Sean and Cathy plan and execute a daring heist, or at least a heist with some daring modern dance movements. Their goal: Steal the ugliest priceless artifact known to the art world.
Will they succeed? Will the feds catch up to them before the cellulite does? Will they rob $8 Billion from the International Blue-Screen Bank before the first tick of Y2K? Will they live happily ever after or will Cathy live forever after Sean?
I don't know about you, but my 20:20 hindsight is all derriere.
Copyright 1999 Mark Ramsey. All rights reserved. NO PORTION MAY BE REPRODUCED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR.
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DONÆT FORGET TO VISIT MOVIEJUICE.COM!
Hey, kids, don't forget to visit the MovieJuice! Site at http://www.moviejuice.com. The pictures are half the fun (and sometimes more than half the laughs)!
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At the end of the movie "Never Been Kissed" there are pictures of all of the actors when they were kids. Does anyone know any other movies where they do the same thing with the subtitles in the end? I would be grateful if someonewould answer me yes or no.
Thanks,
Andrea Bauman
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Subject: [MV] MovieJuice! - THE MUMMY - Fez Dispenser
Date: 09 May 1999 16:33:01 -0400 (EDT)
SPECIAL THANKS THIS WEEKà.
A belated thanks to online film critic Michael Dequina who conveyed a verbal thumbs-up for MovieJuice from "Clerks" and "Chasing Amy" filmmaker Kevin Smith, who accused me of being "cool" and having a "great tone." I can't speak for the former, but I'm off to the gym to guarantee the latter. Thanks Michael and Kevin.
Thanks to New York Magazine for a writeup I just caught up with praising MovieJuice for "hysterical film criticism," something David Denby never specialized in, from what I understand. Thank you!
Finally, thanks to Netscape's Netcenter for plugging MovieJuice as "the funniest place to read about movies online." Damn you people for raising the bar!
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CATHERINE ZETA-JONES SPEAKS!
New this week at MovieJuice.com: I interview Catherine Zeta-Jones and damn if she isn't trying to come on to me! Beware an utter lack of context. Check out the RealAudio interview at:
http://www.moviejuice.com/1999/zetajones.htm
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THE MUMMY - FEZ DISPENSER
by Mark Ramsey
http://www.moviejuice.com/1999/mummy.htm
May 9, 1999
What a shocker, when we first lay eyes on The Mummy, or, as Disney's Mike Eisner calls him, "that little Egyptian Midget."
No, I'm not talking about the movie, I'm talking about Cher on VH-1 Divas Live! I happened to be watching the show with direct descendents of ancient Egyptian high-priests who, between shifts at 7-11, explained to me that Cher has all the telltale signs of a good mummification.
There's the dress-like gauze wrapping used to draw attention and ridicule during Oscar telecasts, the Celine Dionic hats loud enough to wake the ancient dead, the skin so tight Cher's facials are like drum solos and every wink is a rim-shot, the canoptic jars brimming with makeup and various vital organs. There's the evidence of scrambled, nose-extracted brains shown in the relentless repetition of insipid lyrics, and finally, there's the obvious lip-synching to The Mummy anthem: "Do You Believe in Life after Death after Love."
The high point of The Mummy occurs within the first five minutes when Pharaoh's hot-hot babe Anck-Su-Namun comes vamping down the hall undressed in super-shear twine designed by Cher's clothier, King Tut-BobMackie the First. You see, she's having a fling with high-priest Imhotep, thus explaining the derivation of the word "ho."
Bad Imhotep! That little high-priest midget! No wonder everybody gets gets cursed and buried alive with hundreds of cartoon scarab beetles, only to be freed centuries later by foolish archeologists, intrepid explorers, and record industry execs seeking to relaunch Cher's career.
The Mummy is one of the rare movies that would actually be better with less dialogue. "Sons of the Pharaohs!" curses the Brit librarian's boss at the Museum of Antiquities. Was it just me, or did comic-book bubble-quotes appear over everybody's head whenever they opened their mouths?
The plot-line - "rescue the damsel in distress, kill the bad guy, save the world" - sounds like Universal just unwrapped an ancient mummy oddly resembling the edge-worn VHS of Raiders of the Lost Ark down at Blockbuster Video. What can you say about a movie that cribs dialogue from Linda Carter and Lyle Waggoner in Wonder Woman?
Breathless Brits translating hieroglyphics in the nick of time and oozing Bazooka Joe bullet-points. Just add Angela Lansbury and a flying bed and you've got Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Tally-ho, Imhotep!
So the overzealous Americans discover a box with this warning: "Death will come on swift wings to whosoever opens this chest." Pamela Lee's surgeon encountered that same warning but proceeded vigorously and, I'm told, with great enthusiasm anyway. A plague of locusts on you, doctor!
Brendan Fraser plays a swashbuckling character almost exactly like Errol Flynn, except he prefers chicks old enough to drive and doesn't notice that boy mummies have cute butts.
Somebody must have spiked my popcorn with psychedelics because I could swear Brendan went to Bewitched general practitioner Dr. Bombay for help in battling the Mummy! This situation, of course, was even more dire than the time Samantha spoke in rhyme and Darrin was turned into a bedpan. That little warlock midget, Bombay! When the good Doctor smirks "Oh well, back to the airfield! Hoo-hoo!" I felt like I was swinging with Serena at the Cosmos Cotillion to the groovy tunes of Boyce and Hart. To quote Brendan, "Dr. Bombay, come right away!" Groovy, baby.
So macho hero Brendan - that little Gods and Monsters midget - faces-off against a brigade of mummies who look less like ancient dead and more like action-toy Terminators and C3POs. Brendan's option was to wake them from the dead or wait in line with 2,000 other fanatics at FAO Schwarz at midnight to be the first to buy them.
Where's Sinbad the Sailor when you need him? Or at least Ed Furlong? Bring on Elmer Fudd with his wifle to kiww these wascawy weinvigowated walking dead.
All that said, you've gotta respect any long dead high-priest who wants to bring his dead girlfriend back to life, just like Wes Craven did to Kristy Swanson in Deadly Friend, but without the whole high school angle.
As B-movies go, gang, The Mummy is the gold-standard. Yum, yum. It's the sweetest junk food of the Spring.
Copyright 1999 Mark Ramsey. All rights reserved. NO PORTION MAY BE REPRODUCED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR.
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DONÆT FORGET TO VISIT MOVIEJUICE.COM!
Hey, kids, don't forget to visit the MovieJuice! Site at http://www.moviejuice.com. The pictures are half the fun (and sometimes more than half the laughs)!
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Subject: [MV] MovieJuice! - ADVANCE - STAR WARS I: THE PHANTOM MENACE - Zen Hur
Date: 12 May 1999 13:25:04 -0400 (EDT)
SPECIAL THANKS THIS WEEKà.
To Jami Bernard, film critic of the New York Daily News, who sent me a kind and complimentary note about MovieJuice! Thanks, Jami. Enjoy Cannes.
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STAR WARS I: THE PHANTOM MENACE - ZEN HUR
by Mark Ramsey
http://www.moviejuice.com/1999/starwars.htm
May 12, 1999
Repeat after me: It's only a movie...It's only a movie.
Welcome to the gloriously Ewok-free Star Wars I: The Phantom Menace, the second movie about chosen ones this Spring, but the first with computer-animated fart jokes. Damn, computers can do anything. Fasten your seatbelts, kids, it's Obi-Wan Toad's Wild Ride!
A thunderous approval rang out in the theater at the first appearance of everyone's favorite droid, R2D2. Like it or not, we live in a world where R2D2 gets more applause than Elia Kazan. Then again, Elia never fixed a shield generator and R2 never turned tail on the Rebel Alliance or did his best work with Marlon the Hut.
Every story has a beginning and every universe has its Jerry Lewis. Here it's the virtually unintelligible "Jar Jar Binks." Rasta rabbit, funny bunny, one part Chris Tucker and two parts Scooby Doo. Picture Chewbacca with A.D.D. and a gnawing propensity for pig-latin. Silly Binks, Trix are for kids! "Ex-squeeze Me," says Jar Jar Berle, as the Friars Club guffaws uncontrollably. Enter the fifth Teletubby. "Uh-Ohhhhhh!"
Jar Jar Binks? Either some sorry soul at Lucasfilm posed the question: "What would it look like if a migraine headache could walk and talk?" or somebody's serving tainted shitake 'shrooms at the Lucas Ranch commissary. You guys, stop inhaling the hemp mousepads! Don't eat the brown trail mix!
When Jar Jar opened his mouth to speak, my first thought was: "You're kidding. For the whole movie?!" How long can Liam Neeson stand it before he hauls off and slugs this guy? Is this why Bill Gates wanted to limit us all to 640K? "The force is strong with this one," says Liam, "the force of my Jedi fist in his rabbity face, that is. Here's your Scooby Snack!"
Fuzzy wuzzy was a universe. There are five humans in this movie (four of them speaking in monotone - including Queen Amygdala and Mace Ventura) and about a million imaginative psychedelic bad-trip animation hallucinations. It's the "dark side" alright. The Dark Side of the Moon. And Liam is desperately searching out a bag of chips and some dip for epic noshing. "Fear is the path of the dark side," says Master Yoda, "and look how cool that fluorescent poster looks in the black light. Farrah's eyes are following me!"
Check out the crazy wardrobe on the Queen's Banana Republican Guard! Is Natalie Portman Queen of the Streisand Fans? What are these guys fighting, Studio Fifty-War? "Look out for the blasters, boys! It's raining men!"
What's with the frog-faced bad guys? They talk like Martin Short in Father of the Bride. "The Vedding needs to haff da Svans, and da Jedi haff escaped!"
What's with the Tex Avery droids? There's so much animated madcap hilarity I expected to see coyotes dropping anvils on road runners. C3-Tom and R2-Jerry-2, where are you? Too many silly symphonies and merry melodies, if you ask me.
What's with the fresh-faced but classically untrained kids? Is this the best that emotionally unfulfilled and vicarious-living stage mothers can offer nowadays? In this galaxy, the cartoons are better actors than the juveniles.
Young Annakin is the leader of the Huggies Alliance. His job: Escape slavery, save the Universe, and - most importantly - learn to wear big boy underpants. Not necessarily in that order.
Just when we thought we knew everything about the Star Wars universe, we learn about "mitichloreans" - tiny buggers inside every Jedi's cells that speak to you of the force. Equipped with gull-wing doors and familiar as time machines in the Back to the Future series, mitichloreans are "the God within you" baby. Plus they're cool on the road and help you meet chicks.
Now don't get the wrong idea! This new chapter is a fitting introduction to that most epic of mythic space epics. The John Williams score is dynamite, the sound is brilliant, the pictures are richly detailed and ferociously eye-popping, the chariot...er...pod racing sequence is absolutely killer (although it has next to nothing to do with the plot) and the Darth Maul light saber scenes (featuring the Darth Maul Choir) are the most thrilling stuff George has put on film since Suzanne Somers in a white T-Bird (well before her days as a Jedi Thigh-master, I might add).
Don't look for me to dis Mr. Lucas. That guy's a precious natural resource, even if the Criterion DVD of Radioland Murders isn't your cup of tea. And he'll have to sink to Star Wars 65 before he reaches the bottomless lows of crap like The Fifth Element. Although, come to think of it, more jugs jugs and less Jar Jar couldn't hurt, George, if you know what I mean.
I'm not giving anything away to say the end of this movie is vaguely familiar. Just add a Monorail, a Main Street Electrical Parade, and a chorus of droids chiming in on "It's a Small World After All."
All in all, George's toon-town does not disappoint. But don't let your ridiculous expectations (and they are, believe me) get the best of you.
Remember, it's only a movie....It's only a movie.
Copyright 1999 Mark Ramsey. All rights reserved. NO PORTION MAY BE REPRODUCED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR.
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HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIEJUICE STAR WARS PARODY TRAILER?
Available now, in glorious postage-stamp sized RealVideo, at:
New this week at MovieJuice.com: I interview Catherine Zeta-Jones and damn if she isn't trying to come on to me! Beware an utter lack of context. Check out the RealAudio interview at:
http://www.moviejuice.com/1999/zetajones.htm
********************
DONÆT FORGET TO VISIT MOVIEJUICE.COM!
Hey, kids, don't forget to visit the MovieJuice! Site at http://www.moviejuice.com. The pictures are half the fun (and sometimes more than half the laughs)!
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> I'm sure it will go on to make hundreds of millions of dollars but it sure doesn't deserve it.
I'd actually be interested in hearing from folks on whether they
enjoyed themselves at Matrix more than Star Wars. Both seem to me to
be heavily effects reliant, and both had rambling stories, slow
second acts and crappy acting. So what's the pick? Star Wars Ep One
or Matrix?
> Finally, I am usually dubious at claims of racism around every corner but I think this movie is due a big controversy around some racial typing. Can anybody spot the greedy jew, the sneaky asians the simple minded blacks?
After what people put up with from Lethal Weapon 4 and Rush Hour in
the 'racism is funny' stakes, I'd be surprised if anyone gives a
damn about SW's racial undertones.
----------------- {{{OZ}}} -------------------
------- http://www.filmink-online.com --------
----------------------------------------------
Want to earn money on your website? How does 17c a click sound?
Subject: [MV] MovieJuice! - ADVANCE - NOTTING HILL - Roberts Rules of Ardor
Date: 26 May 1999 20:05:51 -0400 (EDT)
FOR YOU INDUSTRY INSIDERSà
One of the best and most dastardly things I've ever done is the phony (?) CAA page. And, as luck would have it, there's new stuff on the page! Don't miss the all-new Agent Web Cam!
http://www.moviejuice.com/1999/caa.htm
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NOTTING HILL - ROBERTS RULES OF ARDOR
by Mark Ramsey
http://www.moviejuice.com/1999/nottinghill.htm
May 26, 1999
This was one of those crowded-to-the-rafters previews brought to you by a radio station, a cable company, and a car dealer. What's with all the promotion? Just add Donny and Marie, some surviving Temptations, and some chickens and we'll open a State Fair.
So crowded was the scene, the search for seats was financed by the Discovery Channel ("I can just make out the bow of Titanic...AND ONE EMPTY SEAT!").
Scores of shameless, teleprompterless TV anchor-folk strolled across the front of the theater expressing their big-fish-small-pond celebrity and vainly searching for a seat to be vain in. Hey, newscasters! There's "Consumer Bob" and "Mr. PC" and "Captain Mike." Where's the rest of the Justice League of America, you guys? Where's "The Incredible Schmuck"? Doesn't he do Traffic? Can Superman kick your asses, or are those kryptonite plates between your ears?
Since Notting Hill is, by nature of its "Rom-Com" genre, a testosterone-challenged flick, I found myself surrounded by a room chocked full of Jewel contemporaries, each exposing more belly and more roots than the next. Ah, Southern California, where a jungle of Jewels is one wild animal kingdom! Where's my machete? Picture a Halloween party where every costume is Gretchen Mol - plus a couple Brides of Frankenstein for good measure. No candy tonight, girls, I'm workin'!
Thanks to the throng, I was very nearly front and center. Wow, Julia Roberts' head is BIG! And I don't mean that in the Dustin Hoffman sense. Can those lashes swat biplanes atop the Empire State Building? Didn't Luke already blow this death star?
Yes, Benjamin's Bratt Julia is the Obi-Wan Kenobi of Romantic Comedy. Feel the Force of her charisma! Damn, if the bewitching Julia doesn't do some of her very best work here! With that million-watt smile and those big brown Bambi eyes, I'm thinking: Forget the Star Wars trailer - download this!
My favorite Julia flick will always be Mystic Pizza, but Notting Hill runs a surprisingly close second and - best of all - the pod race sequence happens off camera!
Brought to you by the team that made Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill is Fewer Weddings, No Funerals, and No Jar Jar. It's the kind of clever, fairly fabulous romantic comedy we haven't seen since, well, Four Weddings and a Funeral.
Kudos to the writer, Richard Curtis, who is so scary good, you wanna lay down your pen and surrender. Damn Redcoat!
Whenever a movie quotes classic screen siren Rita Hayworth and peppers itself with Henry James jokes, you know three things: Adam Sandler doesn't star, Jerry Bruckheimer doesn't produce, and George Lucas sure as Hell didn't write the script.
Big star Julia is type-cast as "the world's most famous star" (or at least the most famous one without an action figure) who meets quintessentially stammering Hugh Grant, "the Alec Guinness of awkwardness," in a bookstore. Romance and hilarity ensue, but nothing's funnier than the tie Julia wears during their interview encounter. A tie? Should Hugh check his purse at the door?
What's with this nouveau trend toward bookstore romance, anyway? First You've Got Mail, now this. It's just my observation, but it seems to me most folks working in a bookstore are already in highly committed same-sex relationships and would sooner browse the HTML aisle than drop knickers for you, pal. Besides, who'd believe a bookshop without a prominent Stephen King display?
As with FW&AF, the supporting cast is a colorfully eccentric, loony, luckless lot.
Hugh's outrageous flat-mate Spike couldn't be more British if Richard Branson stamped "Virgin Atlantic" on his bum and gave him a gate at Heathrow. Check out the Mormon Tabernacle Choir-full of bad teeth (bonding by Picasso). I think his toothbrush is hiding in the FBI's Witness Relocation Program. Spike, like a lot of the folks in this flick, is a beastly, quirky scream.
Hugh's relatives are charmingly flaky, all. And not one of them is a Saturday Night Live alum! Unless you count Alec Baldwin, who does such a mean Mickey Rourke, the Mickster deserves some commission coin.
Universal's got itself a winner! No more pigs in the city; just a Babe in the bookstore.
Hey Star Wars fans, if you can't squeeze into the theater again for George's master class in computer graphic speak-and-spell and techno-juvennihilation, then line-jockey over to Notting Hill. This flick is ten times the movie that Phantom Menace is.
Step to the rear, Sandra Bullock. Please wait outside, Jennifer Aniston. The sweetheart queen has returned to the throne.
And the quirky shall inherit the Earth.
Copyright 1999 Mark Ramsey. All rights reserved. NO PORTION MAY BE REPRODUCED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR.
********************
DONÆT FORGET TO VISIT MOVIEJUICE.COM!
Hey, kids, don't forget to visit the MovieJuice! Site at http://www.moviejuice.com. The pictures are half the fun (and sometimes more than half the laughs)!
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Is John getting fat? Is Tubby going tubular? Does he experience "career setbacks" or just "belly flops"?
Is "Travolta" Italian for "three-voltas-in-one"?
Here's the deal: The best looking chick in the entire history of the Army is found brutally murdered and no one wants to touch the case. Except John Travolta, that is, who'll touch any case that might contain Ring Dings. John does not fear death, as long as it's Death by Chocolate.
Jeez, we could have solved this case in a New York minute if the road to the killer had been paved with Twinkies!
Who is this chick anyway? She's the hotter-than-Hell daughter of a big-shot General, a Captain in "Psychological Operations" or "Psy-Ops," where (in her words), "we fuck with people's minds."
To which Bon Bon John replied, "I was with ya until the 'minds' part."
At "Psy-Ops," the goal is to "blunt the enemy's will to fight." Unfortunately, Travolta's will evaporated when the Chinese stole our menu secrets.
Naturally, the General's pissed when his baby girl is found dead and tied naked to tent posts outside a military base which, notes Muncharino Barbarino, is not far from a good place to eat.
Tubby Travolta, whose cholesterol stands at attention during inspections, promises to "find the sonofabitch, if it's the last thing I eat."
Let's see, rape, torture, murder. And you can even visit the official web site to send The General's Daughter e-postcards to all your friends! It's something to settle for if you can't find those "ethnic cleansing" e-postcards.
Enter Madeleine Stowe, who hasn't been on the big screen in a while and is barely on this one when Husky John is in the same frame. Heston can part the Red Sea in a frame like this, but Mondo Manero can barely roll through a doorway! Go figure.
Madeleine, who's channeling Morticia Adams for much of this flick, is a highly effective rape investigator. And not since the dessert tray has Travol-ton found such a useful asset.
But wait! The General's Improbably Good-Looking Daughter is not what she seems! Suffice it to say there's a seedy underbelly to this tale, and I don't mean the seeds under John's belly, either.
Enter James Woods who does a terrific job being...well...James Woods. Who's gonna do that better? Jimmy and John try to outsmart each other in a tiresome, "writerly" sequence, much like I try to outsmart nasty unpopped kernels in my popcorn bag.
Meanwhile, so convincing is Jimmy as Jimmy, I'm thinking: Doesn't every character know this is James Woods? Shouldn't they be asking for his autograph? Why isn't every scene interrupted with "Hey, it's James Woods! What are you doing here on the base, Jimmy? What's up with that Sean Young thing, anyway? I loved it when Roy Cohn played you on HBO!"
The General's Daughter is like one long episode of TV's Homicide except the singing actor from the original Broadway cast of Chicago is replaced by the singing actor from the original cast of Grease.
Enter Clarence Williams III, "Linc" from the original Mod Squad, who - from what I can tell - is now is a charter member of the Sedentary Squad. "Raise your remote controls and aim, men! Don't fire until you see the whites of Must-See TV!"
Linc may not be "groovy," but he's definitely "heavy." Says Linc, "There are three ways of doing things: The right way, the wrong way, and the Army way." What about "the Way of the Wizard," for Chrissake!
Linc is "Mr. Smithers" to the General's "Mr. Burns." He represents loyalty, devotion, and acting so stiff he was tented for termites at the one-hour mark.
Maybe it's just me, but it's a distinctly ominous sign whenever a senior officer thoughtfully examines his medals near the climax of a movie. It implies some complex moral or ethical conflict and represents a sure obstacle to a timely Travolta three-course meal.
This flick is written strictly by "the book," which isn't surprising since writer William Goldman wrote the book and keeps getting re-hired to re-write the book. I think he uses one script now and just changes the names. "Cross out 'Redford,' write in 'Travolta,' go to Wells Fargo and deposit check."
"In Psy-Ops," says the General's Daughter, "we deal with the blackest of black and the whitest of white." Not to mention the clichΘ-est of clichΘs. Is Goldman laughing all the way to the bank? Now he's getting dialogue ideas from the Turner Classic Movies color scheme.
Believe me, you've seen this flick before. It's set in that alternate movie universe where the star could always be Bruce Willis. He's always partnered with a woman from his past. The bad guy is always a star of modest proportions (so as not to be too obvious while avoiding no-names), and the sinners reach to the highest levels of government power and always include an actor best known for his work with swine.
My favorite scene is where Jiggle-Belly John and Madeleine visit a psychiatrist and tell him his former patient was just strangled. Slowly and deliberately, the psychiatrist rises and walks about the room looking deeply upset, thus duplicating a thousand other scenes in a thousand other movies. Where's he going, anyway? Did he leave his smokes in the Star-Wagon? Is he picking up crumbs after Travolta? Is he getting too old for this shit? Are Butch and Sundance in the waiting room? Ho hum.
To quote the Army code of conduct: Don't ask, don't tell, and - most importantly - don't place your sandwich upwind from Travolta.
Copyright 1999 Mark Ramsey. All rights reserved. NO PORTION MAY BE REPRODUCED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR.
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