Perry is a long way from Beverly Hills, 90210 in his second major feature film role (then again, he was pretty far away in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, too). His sideburns and cool clothes have been replaced by a look that includes chronic cowboy-hat hair, aggressively western shirts—and a whole lot of dirt. Still, Perry's all-American smile is very much in evidence in this story of the late real-life rodeo star Lane Frost.
Set in the Southwest in the 1980s, the movie chronicles the rise, fall and redemption of the Oklahoma-born Frost. Perry is convincing as an awheck redneck who loves his mom and pop, drinks Coca-Cola (not booze) and breaks up barroom brawls when he can. Cynthia Geary is a bit too perky as his long-suffering wife. But Perry's cornball charisma is well balanced by Baldwin, who as his crude cowboy pal has a wicked smile, a wily tongue and a love of soiled socks that only a real rodeo man could muster. Unfortunately, the appealing acting can't make up for the lack of dramatic tension; before all is done, Baldwin has turned into a reluctant sensitivo and Perry hits (and rebounds from) a cheatin', boozin' low—but the events are so ploddingly played out no one cares. Bravo to the boys for doing many of their own stunts—and clearly having a bronco ball. Still, to those of us left outside the corral, 8 Seconds is more like 6,240 seconds of ho-hum moviegoing. (PG-13)
Gabrielle Anwar, Terry Kinney, Meg Tilly Billy Wirth
Even beyond the context of the political paranoia of its 1950s origins, this tale about aliens who take over the bodies of humans remains scarily absorbing and difficult to shrug off.
The original source material, Jack Finney's 1954 novel Invasion of the Body Snatchers, has now been turned into three strong films: the first—and still the best—in 1956, directed by Don Siegel; the second, in 1978, directed by Philip Kaufman; and now this version, directed by New York cult favorite Abel Ferrara, who enhances the chills and mounting suspense of this film with lots of murky lighting and ominous music.
Anwar, the focus of the film, is convincing as the querulous teen daughter of Environmental Protection Agency investigator Kinney. As her father checks out herbicide spills on an Army base in Alabama, Anwar develops suspicions about the zombielike behavior of the locals and even of her own stepmother, Tilly (whose inexpressive stiffness is useful). Nine-year-old Reilly Murphy is a cute bundle as Kinney and Tilly's son—and one of the aliens' toughest adversaries.
The seedpod aliens that metamorphose into their sleeping targets now resemble brussels sprouts on megadoses of minoxidil, and the formerly subtle transformation process has been heavily grossed up. But Ferrara has kept the suspense of the conclusion, when Anwar and her boyfriend, Wirth, fleeing the aliens, have to pretend they've been transformed. (This sequence in the 1956 film was the highlight of Kevin McCarthy's and Dana Wynter's careers.) See the film, but be prepared: you'll never be able to doze off near a green vegetable again. (R)
Nick Note, Mary McDonnell, Shaquille O'Neal
If a basketball player attempts an ill-advised shot, executes it with no finesse ("touch") and misses it badly, he is said to have put up a brick. This angst-laden college basketball tale is the movie equivalent of a brick.
Nolte is basketball coach at a Los Angeles university; he has won two national titles but now has a losing team. Will he compromise his principles to let rich alumni pay off the high-school stars he needs to recruit? Director William Friedkin leaves no moral dilemma unexamined, from the recruitment question to whether Nolte should sleep with his oddly coquettish ex-wife, McDonnell.
Little restraint is shown by anyone, none by Nolte, who seems to think he is doing Hamlet at Inchon as he shows anguish by willing instant furrows into his brow. Despite having spent two weeks researching his part by hanging around Indiana University coach Bobby Knight, Nolte never seems comfortable when he has to handle the basketball. He does, however, realistically reflect Knight's self-righteous, media-bashing paranoia and tantrums.
As for O'Neal, who plays Nolte's prime prospect: with his pro basketball career as the all-star center of the Orlando Magic, his bully-boy Pepsi commercials and his rap record, he is seriously overextended. He is a terrible actor and renders most of his lines incomprehensible with mush-mouthed diction. The only thing he does with style is dunk, and watching a 7'1" guy dunk is as exciting as watching an elephant stomp ants. (PG-13)
- Contributors:
- Bryan Alexander,
- Ralph Novak.
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
