Maybe I'm too much of a Yankee to appreciate the Southern languor that infuses the film, maybe it's the movie's detached air of an observer rather than a participant, or maybe it's a classic case of style over substance -- the film looks and sounds lush and rich, but it's paper-thin and flimsy. Zero character development; instead, we get "characters" like the transvestite Lady Chablis (who is quite charming), the guy who walks an invisible dog... you know, that local color type thing.
The actors barely register -- Spacey glides through the movie suavely but impenetrably. Though I adore Cusack (he's one of my Trinity of Perfect Men, along with Chris Isaak and Russell Crowe), he's a nonentity. And there's a useless, flat, irrelevant "romantic" subplot between Cusack and Alison Eastwood (Clint's daughter -- gee, wonder how she got the job? -- who seems to have a pathological aversion to covering her shoulders or wearing a bra). There was more sexual chemistry between Spacey and Cusack than between Cusack and Eastwood.
In short, don't bother, unless you really have a thing for the Old South.
Back to homepage
Reviews A to F
Reviews G to L
Reviews M to R
Reviews S to Z
Search