From: eric.walker@channel1.com (Eric Walker)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.movies.reviews
Subject: REVIEW: SCENT OF A WOMAN
Summary: r.a.m.r. #01682
Keywords: author=Walker
Date: 12 Jan 93 16:37:19 GMT
Reply-To: eric.walker@channel1.com (Eric Walker)
Followup-To: rec.arts.movies
Organization: Channel 1


			     SCENT OF A WOMAN
		       A film review by Eric Walker
			Copyright 1993 Eric Walker

     Martin Brest first hit the big time as the director of BEVERLY
HILLS COP, the movie that epitomized the Hollywood formula of "good cop
vs. evil drug dealer."  Every bit of the movie was predictable; if it
wasn't for Eddie Murphy's winning performance, it would have been a
piece of garbage.

     Brest scored again with MIDNIGHT RUN, another Hollywood formula
film--but once again the project was saved by winning performances from
its lead stars, Robert De Niro and Charles Grodin.  We watched the movie
for these characters, not for the chase-and-crash scenes, and as a
result it delivered handsomely.

     And now we have SCENT OF A WOMAN, which once again looks like a
Hollywood formula product: an innocent college student is whisked off to
New York City for a weekend of thrills by the gentleman he's supposed to
be caring for.  What's more, there's a subplot involving "honor" and
"loyalty" and "betrayal"--something milked shamelessly by this holiday
season's other politically correct "feel-good" movie, A FEW GOOD MEN.

     On paper, it looks like your standard Hollywood "buddy" movie.  But
when one of those buddies is played by Al Pacino, you know that
something good is going to happen.

     Pacino has been on a roll lately, after spending most of the
eighties in near-seclusion.  He's come back with a vengeance, and this
year we've already seen him as the sleazy real estate broker Ricky Roma
in GLENGARRY GLEN ROSS.  Now he plays a bitter, blind war veteran in a
performance that raises SCENT OF A WOMAN above the level of today's
inoffensive schmaltz and makes it a truly enjoyable experience.

     The setup is pure Hollywood: Chris O'Donnell plays Charlie Simms, a
meek, shy, poor college student who happens to witness a practical joke
played on the school's dean by a group of trouble-making pupils.  What's
more, he's been offered an ultimatum: either he squeals on the
perpetrators and gives names, or he'll be expelled.  (The dean is an
idiot, of course; the First Rule of Hollywood college movies states that
the principal must have the IQ and morals of a dung heap.)

     Now, Charlie has to raise some money for his Christmas trip back
home, so he takes what looks like an easy job: care for an elderly war
veteran over the Thanksgiving weekend.  The woman offering the job tells
him "it's the easiest $300 you'll ever make," but after Charlie meets
the fellow, he admits "I don't get an easy feeling."

     Here's where we meet Lieutenant Colonel Frank Slade.

     This is, of course, Pacino's movie: he takes command the second he
appears on-screen, controlling the lives of everyone around him.  Slade
is a complex man, who blinded himself by accident when he drank too much
one day and played with a hand grenade; now he tosses down Jack Daniels
as if they were water, never getting drunk.  He screams at everyone and
wants sits alone in the dark, hurting everyone around him because he
feels that it's the only way to survive without admitting how much he's
hurting inside.

     But the Colonel has a special plan for this particular weekend: as
soon as the folks leave the driveway on their Thanksgiving trip, he
practically drags Charlie onto a first-class jet, and the two are off to
New York City.  Slade wants only to feel the touch of a woman's arm for
one last time--but his plan for this weekend is destined to end in
tragedy.

     Now, in the hands of most other actors, this would be a typical
Hollywood "odd couple learns to trust each other and each is changed by
the experience" movie.  But Pacino turns Slade into a real human being,
able to tell a woman's brand of perfume just by taking a sniff, and
keeping the whole world on its toes when he enters the scene.  He's a
world-wise man, able to live by his wits.  He figures out immediately
that Charlie has a dilemma of his own; the advice he offers is to take
what you can, and forget the other people.  That's the code he's lived
by all his life, because the world is a tough place.

     One of the film's best moments occurs when he and Charlie drop in
on his brother uninvited for Thanksgiving dinner.  Slade walks in the
door and announces his presence with a roar, and his brother sitting
upstairs immediately recognizes his voice with a start; it's obvious
that he's been putting up with Slade all of his life.  When the Colonel
sweeps a shy young girl off her feet at a fancy New York restaurant, we
feel the magic in the air.  He can make things happen--but because he's
blind, he feels useless and wasted.  (The movie doesn't go out of its
way to present Pacino as a blind man; it's done naturally in a fashion
that doesn't force his disability on us.  This is one of the film's
strengths: it doesn't hit us over the head with the story, until the
very end.)

     Chris O'Donnell had his hands full keeping up with Pacino, one of
the greatest actors of our time.  It would have been easy for him to be
overwhelmed by Slade's character, especially since most of the script
calls for him to be quiet and meek.  But he holds his own, as he sees
the Colonel's time rapidly running out.  The old soldier is becoming
distraught and careless about himself, and Charlie knows that he has to
teach him to love life once again.  But because his character is
developed so well, we believe him as he asserts himself and does what he
can to help the Colonel.  Charlie's not as simple as he looks, and the
Colonel's desperate grasps for attention bring out the best in him, even
as he's changing the old man for good.

     But after all this buildup, it's a disappointment when the movie's
climax has Slade giving a corn-ball speech in Charlie's defense, trying
like so many other movies to capture the magic of MR. SMITH GOES TO
WASHINGTON.  After two and a half hours of wonderful character
development, to wrap everything up neatly in typical Hollywood fashion
is nothing less than a cop-out.  Even Pacino descends into overacting
here, and the film ends with your typical "I've been through a crisis,
but now my life is perfect" note that we get all too often from
Hollywood films.  If the rest of the movie wasn't so good, this would be
irritating.

     However, Pacino must have realized what a waste this final scene
is, however, because he caps it off with a one-liner that I won't
reveal, saving the movie from descending into pure kitsch the way A FEW
GOOD MEN did.

     The movie is a full two hours and forty minutes long, though there
are very few moments that don't contribute to the story.  I certainly
wasn't bored, and yet I had the feeling that the story could have been
shortened by as much as an hour.  Brest tried screening shorter versions
of the film to preview audiences, and they were confused or disappointed
with the results, so the movie was released at full length.  The problem
lies with the screenplay's pacing: it's leisurely paced when it should
be rushing forward at breakneck speed.  SCENT OF A WOMAN is an enjoyable
experience, but it could have been a truly great motion picture if it
picked up the tempo in the way Jonathan Demme's SOMETHING WILD did.

     Despite its length, however, you won't be looking at your watch
when you see this movie.  Brest may be a Hollywood director at heart,
but he cares about his characters, and because he does, we do.  SCENT OF
A WOMAN is a movie you won't regret seeing, thanks to a great
performance by Al Pacino that you'll remember for a long time.

---
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