29 July 2002 | dmkuehn
Cimino: high on style. low on logic. form=content. go figure.
I think on a certain level this film works quite well. First, throw out everything you know about the 1955 version. Next, abandon paying too much attention to how the plot progresses (gee, Kelly Lynch's character seems to disappear for extended periods of time, and it's amazing that the FBI ever found following her to be worth it. And she is supposed to be one of the smarter characters, but then again, you took what Lindsay Crouse's character said about her too seriously.) The film has a most curious tone, and just when you think it's going to turn into an art film, we get a shoot-em-up or some other plot contrivance to bring it back to earth. The soundtrack is a moody pastiche of 50's style orchestrations (no rock music!) and recalls moody post-noir thrillers of the late 50's-early 60's.
And what a fascinating line-up of players, performances, and characters. Kelly Lynch's acting directions must have been "look snappy, especially topless, act like you just ingested a gram of cocaine, and all will go well."
One of these first years Cimino will put together all the pieces and come up with a really good, coherent film. For a really good obtuse film, reference Walter Hill's "The Driver" with Ryan O'Neal.
Oh, and if you ever thought you could mess with Lindsay Crouse, this film should dispel that notion. She's much badder than Mickey Rourke - and that's the biggest surprise of the whole picture! And with a lot less screen time, too. And by golly I guess Mickey Rourke's character is just an obsessive lover of the enigmatic Lynch. That explains a lot.
Coolest line in the film: FBI agent says to Crouse (after she got shot in the leg) : "Where are you hit?" Answer: "In the ego."