From beginning to end, this is the most emotionally overwrought movie about NOTHING I have ever seen. The characterizations and interactions between the title character and Marthe Kller's character are pure torture. The racetrack as metaphor gimmick is so overplayed that it borders on cliche, yet director Pollack treats every hairpin turn as if it were something profoundly important.
Maybe there's some value for a MSFT3000 re-playing of some of the scenes, such as Pacino getting in touch with his inner female, for goof value. But, even such accidental humor is hard to find in this total turkey.
Maybe there's some value for a MSFT3000 re-playing of some of the scenes, such as Pacino getting in touch with his inner female, for goof value. But, even such accidental humor is hard to find in this total turkey.