One Night at McCool's

Bomb Rating: 

I don't know if anyone else would agree, but Liv Tyler looks excessively lumpy to me in this film. Not only that, but she's starting to look more and more like Steven Tyler every day, which is kind of a scary thing when you think about it. Sure, he's her dad and all, but isn't that what plastic surgery is for?

Liv is a big ole sexy sexpot in this film and her name is Jewel, which frankly, reminded me of the fact that there's an actual person named Jewel who wrote a book of poetry that makes me heave up the lining of my stomach whenever I think about it. Every man in the film falls in love with her: Randy (Matt Dillon) has sex with her and then becomes a burglar for her; Carl the lawyer (Paul Reiser) goes ape-shit for her and goes for the whole dominatrix thing; and finally Detective Dehling (John Goodman) decides that he's meant to save Jewel from a bad life.

If you're wondering why this film was almost banned in France, here's the reason: Dehling and Jewel do the nasty. Now, if I consider Liv Tyler to be a bit lumpy, you can guess what I think of the hippopatomastic Goodman. The idea that he and Liv Tyler would ever have sex in the real world calls forth an image unsuitable for public consumption. The only way that Goodman can find his penis when he goes to take a pee in the morning is if it shoots off a flare.

The film is one of those "Pulp Fiction" rip-offs where there's an inexplicable mix of humor and violence that moves back and forth through time for no other reason than the director had a boring idea he couldn't disguise without mashing it through Tarantino's well-worn template. One imagines him pitching it: "It's just like Pulp Fiction!" And the suits saying, "Oh, that makes us so hard! Make it. Make it!" Yes, everyone's telling their stories in flashback and each has a slightly different take on what they saw. Too bad that none of these perspectives is interesting enough to justify any part of this movie.

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