It has the kind of plot that people who write crime thrillers dream up daily, I would guess. Wife steals megabucks from criminal husband and takes off. Husband finally tracks down wife and tries to get money back. Wife cold-bloodedly seduces innocent man into helping her. Ending similar to "Body Heat" -- I think.
If everyone involved had taken this junk seriously it would barely have been watchable. Instead, though, they seem to have recognized the absurdity of the whole thing and, using a good deal of humor, sometimes subtle humor, they sail breezily along and take the viewer with them.
Linda Fiorentino is the wife, the central character, and she's a knockout. She's not just beautiful. She's given a long black mane which she has to swish back from time to time, glorious tresses that any normal man would want to run his toes through. To keep the hair out of her face she constantly tilts her head back so that she seems to be looking down on the person she's speaking to. And she has a voice that is snotty and aggressive without being the least unfeminine. She's also given to making phone calls in the nude, a very nice artistic touch.
The husband is Bill Pullman. He gives a riotous performance, playing every line for laughs. Woken up at night by a gun-toting intruder who claims he is a burglar, Pullman blinks and says wearily, "I thought you were the new interior decorator." And he always seems to rob his dialog of any truth value by delivering it out of the side of his mouth, while looking out of the sides of his eyes.
Peter Berg is the sap. He's not a bad actor as far as it's possible to tell, but his chief virtue in this movie is his appearance. He LOOKS like a patsy, tall but slightly built, his eyes set close together, no nose to speak of, and a small mouth that is perpetually open. His voice is designed for the part too. He could be the Elisha Cook, Jr., of his generation.
I don't know if Berg's lines were intended to be funny but they are. He has the dialog that usually belongs to the woman in these kinds of movies. Linda Fiorentino is a narcissistic, openly deceitful slut, who makes love like a mink. After spending a night with Berg, a stranger, she hauls some breakfast out of his fridge, an apple pie with a note on to: "Love, Grandma." She nibbles a piece and spits it out on the table. She's ruthless with Berg, telling him nothing about herself, and calling him her "designated ****." Poor Berg is blind to her manipulations, begging her for "talk." "I don't feel we share enough," and "I'd like some kind of commitment from you" -- things like that -- as if he'd been watching nothing but Lifetime Movie Network. No kidding. When she demands something more than usually outrageous from him, he says, "Excuse ME?" And when she oozes into the shower stall behind him he remarks with a bit of irritation, "Can't a man have a little privacy?"
Michalek's wardrobe and Vitarelli's score ought to be mentioned too. Fiorentino is almost always decked out in eye-catching black and white outfits, generally of some loose thin flowing material just aching to be removed. The score is in 3/4 time (or maybe it's 6/8) and incorporates a slow bluesy piano as well as a bouncier theme that is orchestrated with lead clarinets so it sounds like an Israeli hora. It neatly combines both mystery and an ironic humor.
The movie is hardly a masterpiece but it's nicely put together and enjoyable if you're not looking for ontological Angst.
If everyone involved had taken this junk seriously it would barely have been watchable. Instead, though, they seem to have recognized the absurdity of the whole thing and, using a good deal of humor, sometimes subtle humor, they sail breezily along and take the viewer with them.
Linda Fiorentino is the wife, the central character, and she's a knockout. She's not just beautiful. She's given a long black mane which she has to swish back from time to time, glorious tresses that any normal man would want to run his toes through. To keep the hair out of her face she constantly tilts her head back so that she seems to be looking down on the person she's speaking to. And she has a voice that is snotty and aggressive without being the least unfeminine. She's also given to making phone calls in the nude, a very nice artistic touch.
The husband is Bill Pullman. He gives a riotous performance, playing every line for laughs. Woken up at night by a gun-toting intruder who claims he is a burglar, Pullman blinks and says wearily, "I thought you were the new interior decorator." And he always seems to rob his dialog of any truth value by delivering it out of the side of his mouth, while looking out of the sides of his eyes.
Peter Berg is the sap. He's not a bad actor as far as it's possible to tell, but his chief virtue in this movie is his appearance. He LOOKS like a patsy, tall but slightly built, his eyes set close together, no nose to speak of, and a small mouth that is perpetually open. His voice is designed for the part too. He could be the Elisha Cook, Jr., of his generation.
I don't know if Berg's lines were intended to be funny but they are. He has the dialog that usually belongs to the woman in these kinds of movies. Linda Fiorentino is a narcissistic, openly deceitful slut, who makes love like a mink. After spending a night with Berg, a stranger, she hauls some breakfast out of his fridge, an apple pie with a note on to: "Love, Grandma." She nibbles a piece and spits it out on the table. She's ruthless with Berg, telling him nothing about herself, and calling him her "designated ****." Poor Berg is blind to her manipulations, begging her for "talk." "I don't feel we share enough," and "I'd like some kind of commitment from you" -- things like that -- as if he'd been watching nothing but Lifetime Movie Network. No kidding. When she demands something more than usually outrageous from him, he says, "Excuse ME?" And when she oozes into the shower stall behind him he remarks with a bit of irritation, "Can't a man have a little privacy?"
Michalek's wardrobe and Vitarelli's score ought to be mentioned too. Fiorentino is almost always decked out in eye-catching black and white outfits, generally of some loose thin flowing material just aching to be removed. The score is in 3/4 time (or maybe it's 6/8) and incorporates a slow bluesy piano as well as a bouncier theme that is orchestrated with lead clarinets so it sounds like an Israeli hora. It neatly combines both mystery and an ironic humor.
The movie is hardly a masterpiece but it's nicely put together and enjoyable if you're not looking for ontological Angst.