by Mary Summers
You've heard of a "chick flick." Want to know what a "sick flick" is?
Check out Oliver Stone's
U-Turn
, starring Sean Penn, Nick Nolte and
Jennifer Lopez, and you'll find out in no time flat -- 'cause this movie's
sicker than a high-grade fever coupled with salmonella and a nasty rash.
So what's the problem? Lots of movies are totally perverse and are still
high-quality flicks -- think
Pulp Fiction
. And perversion is often what
makes a good movie good -- remember how nicely the incest theme worked into the
classic
Chinatown
?
But putting sick twistedness in a movie is like putting hot sauce in your
chili: Both must be added skillfully and in just the right amount, or the final
product will make you want to vomit.
A movie should tell a good story -- and if there are gross perversions in the
movie, they ought to aid and abet the story, not arrest it. Therein lies the
problem with
U-Turn.
It gets so caught up in its own sickness that it
gets lost and dies.
U-Turn
is the classic tale of a nice guy who gets stuck in a crummy
small town ... sort of. The story goes like this: Bobby, a greasy
good-for-nothing (played convincingly by Sean Penn), is driving along through
the Arizona desert as innocently as a cat, just taking hallucinogens, making
roadkill and generally minding his own business.
All he's trying to do is get to Vegas so he can pay off a $13,000 debt he owes
another greasy good-for-nothing (Bobby, like classic protagonists such as
Little Red Riding Hood, has a good reason for making haste through the desert
-- a bunch of thugs will wrench off one of his fingers with wire clippers for
each week that the payment is late).
Unfortunately, Bobby is diverted from his errand of mercy by car trouble.
Thoroughly pissed off, and generally behaving like the sleaze that he is, Bobby
takes his car to the nearest crummier-than-crummy-repair shop in the tiny,
rathole town of Superior, Arizona.
And that's where the real trouble begins.
Filthy, hallucinating and possessed of some gargantuan Hollywood-style sweat
rings, Bobby moseys into poverty-stricken Superior.
Right off the bat he runs into a brazen, Native American hussy (she ain't no
Pocahantas) named Grace (who, although living in the midst of poverty and
despair, clearly works out daily with a personal trainer and somehow is able to
order skimpy Calvin Klein sundresses from the Neiman's catalog ... go figure).
Grace (Jennifer Lopez) lures Bobby back to her swell desert love-shack. Just
when she and Bobby finally start mugging down, who walks in, but Grace's Dr.
Evil-of-a-husband, Jake (Nick Nolte).
Jake socks Bobby, then tells him to get his stinkin' ass the hell out. But all
is not what it seems to be: Just minutes later, Jake approaches Bobby and tells
him that he will reward Bobby handsomely if he will kill his slutty bitch-wife,
Grace.
In a fit of morality, Bobby refuses, but after his $13,000 stash gets blown to
smithereens in a nasty convenience-store robbery, he changes his mind and
agrees.
When the moment of truth arrives, though, Bobby can't do it. Grace is so darn
hot that he opts to have mad sex with her instead.
Grace tells the tearful tale of her life of unending victimhood and explains
that Jake is a low-down, dirty, rat bastard. She and Bobby then plot to kill
the evil Jake and steal his stash of cash.
I won't tell you what eventually happens to the two star-crossed lovers, but I
will tell you this: There ain't no happy-ever-after to th
is
movie --
just spiraling twist after twist, until the story not only becomes ridiculous
but begins to drag.
At the point at which I've left you, there are still four gratuitous and
extremely graphic murders to go, not to mention several grizzly flashbacks of
murder and finger-hacking, violent fight scenes, scenes of incest and rough sex
and countless instances of all-around scandalous, dishonest, villainous and
disturbing behavior.
The real kicker in this movie, though, is that in the end there's no
conclusion, perverse or otherwise, to be drawn. Gallons of blood are spilled,
but it doesn't lead to anything -- it's absolutely gratuitous.
After
Pulp Fiction
, you might draw the conclusion that cold-blooded
murderers are people too.
And
Chinatown
led you to a Marv Albert conclusion: Sometimes seemingly
nice people are total freaks.
Raging Bull
is a movie that's all about
violence, but the violence is framed in terms of the impact it has on a man's
life.
A good sick movie uses the shock value of sickness as a means to an end;
U-Turn
uses sickness as a means to a dead-end nothing.
The movie was so super-saturated with every sort of pointless baseness that any
potential meaning was lost.
The acting in the movie is respectable, the cinematography is often captivating
and the soundtrack is excellent. But in the end, when the smoke clears, and the
bodies stop twitching, all you'll be able to do is turn to your date and say,
"Well,
that
sucked."
This item appeared in the Arts & Entertainment section of the October 10, 1997 issue.
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