ROVIN' AND RAVIN' WITH MIKE

Copyright © 2001 by Michael Segers, All rights reserved

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Heartbreakers and The African Queen

 

  Cast:

Sigourney Weaver, Jennifer Love Hewitt,

Ray Liotta, Jason Lee,

Jeffrey Jones, Gene Hackman,

Nora Dunn, Anne Bancroft

Directed by David Mirkin

Writing credits Robert Dunn and Paul Guay

Runtime 123 minutes.

MPAA: Rated PG-13 for sex-related content including dialogue.

Information from Internet Movie Database

     Well, Heartbreakers is not bad, and that’s the worst kind of film.  It doesn’t push any envelopes or buttons either.  It’s a modest little mother and daughter flick that you can catch on cable later or not catch at all and not miss much.  But, it’s not bad, and in recent weeks, that sounds like fairly high praise.  I questioned whether Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt could carry The Mexican (apparently, they do), but Sigourney Weaver and Jennifer Love Hewitt leave no questions for me about this film.  They make it, playing Max (Weaver) and Page (Hewitt), two con-people looking for rich old (emphasis on either word) men good for what Max calls “widow money.”

     At least they are honest with themselves, if not with their intendeds (that is, victims, not fiancés): a tobacco zillionaire (Hackman) who has used too much of his own product and the owner of a bar (Lee).  Basically, the film gives us a lot of not squeaky clean fun in which values, family or otherwise, get served up in the broken glass in the salad (next time you want to get a free meal in a posh restaurant).

     By the way, the film is supported by some great but wasted actors, most notably Ray Liotta as the ladies’ first victim and Anne Bancroft as the IRS agent from… well, from the IRS.  Enough said.

     And that is enough said.  Fortunately, The African Queen came chugging onto cable again this week, and I can’t say enough.  At a half-century, it shows no signs of aging.  In not much over an hour and a half, it packs more noble thoughts but very soggy feet, witty dialogue, sexual energy (but no anatomy lessons) and what I call the most special effect of all—a close-up of a talented actor’s face—than any three films at the megaplex today. 

     Katharine Hepburn, from prim missionary to not-so-young woman in love with being in love and with Humphrey Bogart, too, gives Bogart a run for his Oscar (he got one, she didn’t), and Bogart for once goes beyond Bogart, as a man who learns a few things himself.  Put two fireballs like these onto a thirty-foot boat, and stand back.  Oh, some great writing doesn’t hurt (and it doesn’t).  The ending is improbable, but it feels right.  These two really are too strong or stubborn to die.     

     Tim Dirks gives a great review of the many pleasures of The African Queen.  His articles on classic film are especially rewarding because he includes substantial passages of dialogue, giving us a chance to see just how good the writing of these old films is.  A special treat in his article on The African Queen is his revelation of three other endings that were considered.  Keep your feet dry, your heart full of noble thoughts, and your cable bill paid so you can see something worth watching.

 

 

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