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TIME: Almanac 1990
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1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
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time
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102389
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10238900.074
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1990-09-22
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CINEMA, Page 85Finally, a True Character Comedy
By Richard Schickel
THE FABULOUS BAKER BOYS
Directed and Written by Steve Kloves
In small-time show biz, fading but persistent optimism is
always engaged in a losing struggle with slowly metastasizing
despair. Since Jack and Frank Baker (Jeff and Beau Bridges) are
approaching middle age and still playing duo cocktail piano in
Seattle's lesser lounges, an air of hopelessness has begun to hang
heavy. Stardom is no longer an option; survival, even on the bottom
rung, is becoming a question.
The Baker boys need to refurbish their tired act. But Susie
Diamond (Michelle Pfeiffer) is not at first glance an answered
prayer. She totters into their lives on a broken high heel, late
for her audition and not exactly thrilled to be there in any case.
But wonder of wonders, she can sing. And both onstage and off, she
combines worldliness and vulnerability in a way that shakes up
audiences as well as her new employers.
Can a partnership based on the habit of failure deal with the
potential for success she offers? That question preoccupies
first-time director Steve Kloves' realistic-romantic, wry-funny,
altogether delightful movie. And it is not easily solved.
Banality is a security blanket for Frank. He has been playing
the standards in a routine fashion for years, stitching the songs
together with chipper-inane prattle as featureless as his
musicianship. He's just a guy supporting his offscreen wife, kids
and mortgage in a way he finds more congenial than, say, selling
aluminum siding. Banality is a hair shirt for Jack. His life is all
squalid improvisation and silent disgust at tinkling out "piano
stylings." He knows better, and he might do better, as a jazzman.
By transforming their act, Susie of course changes the
brothers' lives. To deal with her, they finally have to confront
themselves and a relationship based far more on shared genes than
on common ideals. The wary way in which she and Jack circle in on
a relationship is one of the truest representations of modern
romance that the modern screen has offered. The gradual stripping
away of false issues between the brothers (Why is Jack always late
for gigs? Why does Frank fuss so much about his bald spot?) as they
get down to the true ones (involving, naturally, their childhood
and piano lessons) is done with similar subtlety. Kloves' delicacy
as a writer is, moreover, matched by his restraint as a director.
It would have been easy to patronize or satirize the less than
fabulous milieu of The Fabulous Baker Boys. Instead he and his fine
cinematographer, Michael Ballhaus, have created a gently
dislocating noirish mood -- not quite menacing but not exactly
comfortable either -- and let it speak for itself.
It is a setting where actors can live and breathe like real
people, and the Bridges boys are better than fabulous in it -- Jeff
not quite falling over the line into unredeemable cynicism, Beau
never succumbing to the pull of moral blandness. Pfeiffer, who does
her own singing, is a cat with at least nine dimensions ever
aflicker in her eyes.
What emerges here is a Hollywood rarity these days, a true
character comedy. Because it is a form the studios no longer trust
commercially, Kloves lingered four years on the street of broken
deals before getting his script onscreen. His persistence deserves
a reward. And as a near perfect example of an endangered species,
The Fabulous Baker Boys deserves the protection only large,
enthusiastic audiences can provide.