As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be Martin Scorsese

Rating: 4/10 (25 February 2002)

The high octane seventies rock soundtrack. The soulful, reflective narration. The freeze frames and Polaroids of the crew's happier days. The coked up wife. Blah. Blah. Blah. Could this be a bigger Goodfellas rip-off?
First, and foremost, if the filmmaker is going to use a narrator to explain the emotions and the situations, it better be some darn good writing. It's not. It's trite and adolescent, at best. And it doesn't end with the narration. The dialogue is equally inept. If I had closed my eyes I could have sworn I was listening to a made for cable episode of 90210.
In fairness to Depp, he was plausible. He managed to salvage what he could from this rag of a script. I enjoyed his interactions with both of his love interests and with all of the Latino characters he met en route to his downfall. Then there was Fred Jung, George's dear, old dad, played by Henry Hill, er, Ray Liotta. If Demme had managed to pull this off, and made an original movie, then this casting decision would have been a huge bullseye, and a fun homage. Since it stinks so bad, then Liotta's appearance does little more than scream "Hey, look at me! Don't I add credibility to this otherwise turd of a film?"