Dad at the Movies
Another report from the cinema courtesy of my father:
I have a candidate for the "so bad it's good" category. Lucky You has all the right ingredients on paper: a poker flick set in the glitz of Vegas and a chance to watch Robert Duvall ply his trade. Plus, I understand the director includes L.A. Confidential on his resume. The right ingredients, indeed!
Then the movie starts.
The script is beyond bad. It would strangle any cast, but (Eric) Bana and (Drew) Barrymore, perhaps out of frustration, attempt to make it even worse with performances so wooden that words fail. It reminds me of Meet Joe Black, with the extended periods of non-dialogue where expressive facial contortions are supposed to fill in the blanks. In this awful movie, there was only silence. ... No smiling, frowning or any other form of human expression. It is as if they had simply forgotten their lines (probably a good thing) and didn't care.
Duvall acquits himself as well as he can, but they saddle him with a wig that also defies description. I will say that the film can claim consistency, because the beginning, middle and end are equally terrible. If Joe Queenan was assigned this movie, he would toss it back as being too easy. He might lose his edge.
Labels: Dad at the multiplex