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Before I took a job as a reviewer, I never went to films like this, and thus remained blissfully unaware that at the soul of the Hollywood film lies a deeply woman-hating spirit that thrives on putting its knocking little knees on the silver screen for all to either empathize with or revile. Or is this just a particularly bad year? An ugly trend?
Here we have yet another seemingly sweet, innocent, beautiful woman turned lethal weapon. The kind that cautions us that beneath every pair of batting eyes and nesting instincts lies a wild-eyed beast guaranteed to make everyone's life within 50 miles a living hell.
This month's specimen is Jewel Valentine's (Liv Tyler), whose simple dreams include having her own little house, a backyard fountain, and a mondo home entertainment system. Unfortunately, Randy (Matt Dillon, in his first film in 3 years), the dim-bulb bartender she picks up at McCool's one night intending to rob, is less materially oriented. The kind of guy who drinks beer out of a toilet plunger, he prefers to hunker down in his dead mother's house with few creature comforts save his snowglobe collection.
In that same low-rent bar, the Devil in the Red Dress also bumps into Randy's cousin, Carl (the highly amusing Paul Reiser), a lawyer with an ego the size of St. Louis. When things go south within hours, enter the widowed detective with a heart of gold (John Goodman). The result? Three men sustain big, bad crushes on the leopard-clad progeny of Steven Tyler and Bebe Buell-crushes that make them do things that common sense would normally contraindicate. Like get involved in the first place.
Multiple points of view and flashbacks patch together the front-page news about how easy it is to fall victim to one's libido, especially if you're male. As each of these men relates his perspective to a confidant, his desire to possess The Jewel colors the `truth' of the situation. About 70 minutes later, things come together in a reasonably amusing way. But it's amusement from the same source that tells you that the stuff on the popcorn actually tastes like butter.
MCCOOL'S is the first film by Norwegian commercial and music-video director Harald Zwart, and his pedigree is clear during some of the fantasy segments, including one about a car wash, soap and a hose that you can probably extrapolate. It's also the debut project from the production company owned by Michael Douglas, who's found his niche as a toupeed sleezeball in a bingo parlor.
Dillon and Tyler are unlikely to win any gold statues for this one, though given the one-dimensionality of their overdone film noir-type characters, you can't really fault them. Several minor roles drag out unexpected guests--Reba McEntire plays Carl's psychiatrist, and Andrew Dice Clay doubles as both the hoodlum Utah and his even-scarier brother. (Finally, an outlet for all that aggression.)
This film unwittingly speaks volumes about the dynamics between men and women--or men and their mommies. But ultimately you'd probably find more lasting psychological truths in a Bugs Bunny episode. I will say that it's better, funnier, more sophisticated than other recent gems like TOMCATS, but should we really have to choose what to see based on what ranks lowest on the misogynism scale?


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