The Straight Story, The Muse

reviewed Fri, 09 Jun 2000

Considering this is supposed to be the summer movie season, there isn't a hell of a lot out there in the theaters that I want to see, so I occupied myself by renting some movies and going to Busch Gardens.  We went on the three rollercoasters that were open two times each, including the one on which Fabio got hit in the face by a bird (we didn't sit in the front on that one), and now I'm sore and bruised on the back and shoulders from getting banged against the restraints which, added to my technicolor leg bruises from softball, makes me look like I'm dating O.J. Simpson.  Many other exciting things happened at the amusement park, including when we saw a Galapagos tortoise sit on a duck (it got out okay), I got bitten by a parrot, we saw two ducks doing it, and we saw a wretched show called "Holiday in Roma" that seemed to suggest Italian culture begins with "That's Amore" and ends with "Mambo Italiano" (performed by perky youngsters in Renaissance attire in a ruins-of-Pompeii-style amphitheater).  But I think the most memorable part of the trip actually was outside the park, at the restaurant we went to for dinner our first night in town.  First of all, we went to the wrong restaurant -- we had a coupon for a place called Milano's, and we went instead to Marino's, which was on the same street.  Yes, we were that stupid.  Then, when we got the bill, my friend Amy nudged me: "Look what our waiter's name is."  And there, in the blank behind "Your server's name:_____", was "Penis."  You know that I could not possibly be making this up.  Amy, trying to give our waiter the benefit of the doubt, suggested maybe the "P" was supposed to be a "D", or the "n" was supposed to be an "r", but I thought the letters were written pretty deliberately.  I'm awfully sorry to report that we weren't able to keep the check, nor did we ask the waiter if his name was, in fact, Penis.  But it's better that way, don't you think?  It would be such a letdown to find out his name was Denis or Pietro or something dull and conventional.  And I wouldn't be able to amuse myself by snapping my fingers in the air to summon a server, saying, "Oh, Penis?"

Ummm... I got a little distracted.  A waiter named Penis will do that to you.  Anyway, I rented The Straight Story, which actually is more David Lynchian than you've been led to believe.  Sure, most of it is G-rated, straight and slow, as Richard Farnsworth makes his way from Iowa to Wisconsin on a lawn tractor to visit his estranged brother, who's had a stroke.  But there are flashes of weirdness, too, in some of the people he encounters, like the twin mechanics or the Deer Lady, who comes roaring out of nowhere to hit a deer with her car, then goes into an angry, wailing rant about how she has to drive this road to get to work, and she always hits deer on this road, and she can't help it.  "And I love deer!" she shrieks as she speeds back into nowhere.

But mostly The Straight Story is simple and completely void of irony.  What you see is what you get.  And, frankly, it's a little dull.  It can also be irritatingly trite; Farnsworth dispenses words of wisdom and consolation to everyone he meets on his trip, like a benevolent deity dropped from the heavens to clear things up for them.  All I could think was, how come all the old people I meet are more like Grandpa from "The Simpsons" than like this fount of kind sagacity?  Farnsworth is fine as Alvin Straight, but you get the feeling that a great deal of his performance comes from his age rather than from him.  Despite the lethargic pace of the movie, I was moved by the final scene in which Straight and his brother meet.  It could have easily drowned in gloppy sentiment, but Lynch underplays it beautifully, and it's very touching.

Despite all the negative reviews, I'd wanted to see The Muse because I love Albert Brooks.  His work is uneven, but when he's good, he's very, very good.  His whiny, neurotic humor is definitely an acquired taste, though, and if you haven't acquired it, you probably won't like The Muse.  Brooks is the only reason to see it, and even he is only sporadically funny.  The concept is that Sharon Stone is one of the Muses from Greek mythology (funny, I don't remember any of the Muses being named Sarah) who has come to Hollywood to inspire writers and directors.  This is a good gag at first, but it wears thin pretty quickly.  And it's a little hard to understand the sacrifices Brooks makes to get her services (suite at the Four Seasons, gifts from Tiffany's, 3 a.m. food runs) when you hear what she "inspired" in previous clients: The American President for Rob Reiner?  "Inspired" is not the word that comes to mind.  Mainly, it's a device to get funny cameos from top directors like Reiner, James Cameron, and an over-caffeinated Martin Scorsese.  I would still almost recommend it as a "if there's nothing else in the video store, it's better than going home empty-handed and watching 'SportsCenter' over and over again like I'm prone to do" rental if it hadn't left a bad taste in my mouth with an inexcusably lame ending.  And if it didn't have Andie MacDowell.

Back to homepage
Reviews A to F
Reviews G to L
Reviews M to R
Reviews S to Z
Search