This is an incredible movie. It manages to be goofy, yet grandiose; a comedy, a love story, and a passionate defense of our constitutional right to be offensive all at the same time. I laughed out loud for most of the movie, yet it packed an emotional and intellectual force beyond a mere comedy. All the performances are terrific; I never thought I'd utter these words, but Woody Harrelson is really good. Maybe it's just so easy to believe him as a sleazeball. And Courtney Love is astonishingly good, nothwithstanding her obnoxious comments in recent interviews about how she's the only person besides Frank Sinatra who's a great singer AND a great actor. I'll go with the Sinatra comparison on the acting, but on the singing? I don't think so. The love and affection between Harrelson and Love is touching and real, although Love looks terrible. Even when she's supposed to be an underage (yeah, right) stripper, she looks hideously emaciated and pale. As Premiere said long ago, even on her best days, Love looks like a heroin addict. And by the end of the movie, she looks like she ought to be starring in Sid and Nancy.
Edward Norton, who was outstanding in Primal Fear (and the ONLY good thing in that movie), gets a few moments to shine toward the end of the movie in his role as Flynt's lawyer Alan Isaacman. One is when he rips into Flynt for his behavior in court. I was just starting to think that Flynt's childish antics in the courtroom were getting old; he wants to use the justice system to defend his rights, yet he has no respect for it. So I wanted to cheer when Isaacman tells him that very thing. Norton's other fine scene is in front of the Supreme Court; it's the pinnacle of any lawyer's career to be arguing before the Supreme Court, and Norton skillfully shows Isaacman's nervousness without losing his professionalism.
The movie never attempts to lionize Flynt; director Milos Forman lets us see what a tasteless, immature, self-aggrandizing asshole Flynt is. But it stirringly defends his right to be an asshole. It made me proud to be an American in a way less manipulative and more pure than the jingoistic, "America kicks butt!" flag-waving of, say, Independence Day. It's long, but it never feels long. Forman actually manages to keep the nudity and disgusting Hustler images well below what I expected. And it's always a pleasure to see sanctimonious weasels like Jerry Falwell and Charles Keating get lambasted.
A few questions, though. First, did Larry Flynt's shooting somehow affect his vocal cords? For some reason, after he's shot, not only can he no longer walk, but Harrelson affects some odd accent that sounds like he's packed his mouth with cotton. And why does Crispin Glover, cinema's resident freakshow, keep one eye closed throughout the entire movie?
Anyway, this goes on my list as one of the best movies of the year. Go see it.
P.S. My California friends on this list will no doubt be thrilled to see a scene where Flynt, persecuted in Ohio, announces, "Maybe I ought to move someplace where perverts are welcome." Cut to scenes of L.A.
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