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MOVIEREVIEWS
MONDAY,AUG.19,2002
'Master of Disguise' lacks humor, purpose
By Christry LeMire
AP Entertainment Writer
Such a sad irony that Dana Carvey, who's made his name bringing celebrities to life with uncanny impersonations, should make such a lifeless movie based on characters of his own creation.
Carvey becomes about a dozen different people, none of them inspired, in "The Master of Disguise," which he also wrote.
I feel bad saying that — I really do. After Carvey's botched open-heart surgery in 1998, for which he sued his doctor for millions of dollars, it would have been nice to see him have a hit.
This, however, is not it.
Carvey wastes his comic talents so egregiously. It makes you wish he'd bust into his Johnny Carson impression, or Garth from "Wayne's World." Even a hackneyed "Well, isn't that special?" from the Church Lady would have been welcome. (He does do an impression of President Bush, but it's surprisingly flat, considering that his version of Bush's father is one of his best-known characterizations.)
Instead, Carvey stars as the nerdy but well-intentioned Pistachio Disguisey, which consists of him speaking in a bad Italian accent and nervously twitching. Pistachio lives at
home with his parents (Edie McClurg and James Brolin, who doesn't need a role this badly) and works as a waiter in their Italian restaurant.
Frabbrizio and Mama Disguises are kidnapped by the dastardly Devil Bowman (Brent Spiner), who wants to use Frabbrizio's talent for morphing into other people in order to steal the world's greatest treasures.
Pistnehio learns from his grandfather (Harold Gould, who's repeatedly humilized) that he also has this family gift of mimicry, and he uses it to try to rescue his parents. He hires a beautiful assistant (Jennifer Esposito) and, unbelievably, she falls in love with him.
Not that the plot matters, though. It's a device for Carvey to unleash his many meaningless characters, including a Belgian tax collector, a schoolgirl, a British detective, a talkative old lady and a giant clump of grass. The laest of all is when he sneaks into the exclusive Turtle Club dressed in a turtle suit and says the word "turtle" over and over.
Before the action even begins, the words "A Happy Madison Production" in the opening credits are enough to induce dread. You know this will be yet another agonizing movie from Adam Sandler's production company for a fellow "Saturday Night Live" alum.
Let's take a quick look at Happy Madison's previous atrocities: "Deuce Bigalow. Male Gigolo" and "The Animal" starring Rob Schneider; "Joe Dirt" starring David Spade; and Sandler's own movies, including "Little Nicky."
The director of "The Master of Disguise," Perry Andelin Blake, is another longtime Sandler collaborator, having worked as a production designer on movies including "The Waterboy," "Big Daddy" and "Mr. Deeds."
Carvey meant well, though. He wanted to make a PG movie for kids, without the typical gross-out humor that pervades this kind of comedy. However, the fart jokes are the only ones that made kids laugh at a recent screening.
Nothing here is funny — not the characters, who are singularly obnoxious. Not the jokes, which are beaten to death. And not the dialogue, which consists of Pistachio repeating everything everyone says. The movie's only 80 minutes long — if each line were said just once, it would only last 40 minutes, and even that would feel like an eternity.
"The Master of Disguise," a Columbia Pictures release, is rated PG for mild language and some crude humor. Running time: 80 minutes. One star out of four, the lowest rating.
Dana Carvey wrote and directed
"The Master If Disuse." The
film's running time is 80 minutes.
Eastwood's star persona comes through in 'Blood Work'
By Ben Nuckolss Associated Press Writer
Clint Eastwood is getting older, and he knows it. He just doesn't understand why it should make any difference.
In "Blood Work." Eastwood's 23rd film as director and 44th as star, he plays a heart-transplant recipient. But any hope that the 72-year-old movie god might explore the realities of aging and illness in an honest, moving way are quickly dashed.
For Eastwood's Terry McCaleb, a retired FBI profiler, the grueling regimen necessary to keep his body from rejecting the new organ is only a minor annoyance in the quest to solve a murder. Sure, he has to nap regularly and take 34 pills with unknown side effects every day, but by the end of "Blood Work" such details don't matter. He still a killer's worst nightmare.
Eastwood's refusal to adjust his
star persona is both a curse and a blessing to "Blood Work." In someone else's hands, the movie could have been more cerebral, more critical of the hero, dwelling longer on his physical ordeal and on the folly of him running around with a gun or jumping out of the way of a speeding car while a delicate new heart beats behind his sewn-up breastplate.
The movie opens pre-transplant, with McCaleb working the scene of a serial killer's latest murder; as usual, the perpetrator has written a message
But it's exactly because Eastwood doesn't probe psychology or physiology that "Blood Work" clicks so well as a straight thriller. He gives Brian Helgeland's workmanlike script — an adaptation of a pulpy page-turner by Michael Connelly — his usual straightforward treatment. Nothing gets in the way of the story, which manages to be satisfying even if you figure out early on who the mysterious bad guy is.
Eastwood's refusal to adjust his star persona is both a curse and a blessing to "Blood Work." In someone else's hands, the movie could have been more cerebral, more critical of the hero, dwelling longer on his physical ordeal and on the folly of him running around with a gun...
in blood, imploring McCaleb to catch him. The killer gives his pursuer a fighting chance, waiting in the media strong outside the crime scene. McCaleb gives chase, but is felled by a massive coronary.
Two years later, having survived the wait for a transplant, Caleb is
recuperating in peace aboard his houseboat when the movie's central gimmick arrives in the form of Gracilla Rivers (Wanda de Jesus), who informs McCaleh that he got her sister's heart after she was shot to death in a convenience store robbery.
With help from his boat-bum neighbor (Jeff Daniels with his "Dumb & Dumber" haircut) and a Los Angeles County detective with whom he has a romantic history (Tina Lifford), McCaleb quickly finds unusual details in the killing and links it to another seemingly random stickup homicide. And his personal connection to the victim takes his work in unexpected directions.
Pace has always been an issue for Eastwood as a director, admirers call him "measured" while detractors usually go with something like "sommumbulant." Here, he gets it just right, working through the plot with clarity
and precision. A less patient director might have rushed over points that Eastwood is careful to explicate Taken on its own sensationalist terms, the movie is plausible; it holds together.
Eastwood's vanity is the only thing that gives pause. It's not that he tries to hide his age — no hazy lightning or heavy makeup softens his creases. He just won't let the passage of time alter the stolid, invulnerable heroism he's been cultivating since the mid-1960s.
As always, the movie turns on everybody's realization that Eastwood is the smartest, sexiest, toughest guy in the room.
Even McCaleb's cardiologist (Angelica Huston) — who warns him he's risking his life and refuses to continue treating him if he continues the investigation — eventually takes part in it enthusiastically. She clearly has no reason to worry about her patient.
Like the other supporting actors, Huston brings a strong presence to a role that amounts to little more than an extended cameo. Eastwood tends to cast familiar faces in roles that play to their strengths; Huston radiates a steely empathy and Daniels loafs around with hangdog charm.
It's both reassuring and frustrating that Eastwood will always be Eastwood. If he refuses to change, is he relevant anymore? His movies are easy to admire for their professionalism and lack of fuss, but watching him squander the opportunity to do something different is no more fun than watching "The Outlaw Josey Wales" or "Unforgiven" for the 15th time.
He's the same old Clint, now and forever.
"Blood Work," a Warner Bros. release, is rated R for violence and language. Running time: 120 minutes. Two and a half stars (out of four).
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