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Paul Francis Sullivan
David Alan Basche,
This thing is all over the place. Bobby Roth wrote and directed and clearly had too much on his plate.
The late John Ritter, in one of his last movies, showed a maturity of talent, with swerves and layers to his performance. Perhaps most disturbing to watch, particularly in the daylight scenes, was the light purple hue that had worked its way into his complexion. This, more so than the weight gain of middle age, was a visual sign of the pending cardiac trouble that eventually claimed his life. Still, he played the pathetic cad with out the over acting and indicating that hampered much of his earlier work. It showed a sign of growth, sadly. That, coupled with the flimsy material he was working with was even more commendable.
Janeanne Garofallo, when not tanking her career by spouting off about things political, seems hell bent on uglying herself up when she is an attractive, charismatic woman, albeit a very diminutive one. Still, she does her best to appear as bitchy, and dispassionate as possible. When a character is completely unlikeable, audiences tend not to care about her at all-like in this work. I'm thinking she took the job for a new in-ground pool.
Finally, there's the talented, handsome, Nestor Carbonell, who was the lead and constrained with the wealth of expository dialogue that crammed the scenes between character affectations. Nestor, who should get better parts, was wasted here. The guy is a stud. I wonder if the geniuses who cast films see him as "too ethnic." That his character managed to put the brakes on his sex addiction and became the good guy was completely unbelievable.
Why do I waste my time? Please learn from my mistake, and give this one a pass.
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