I've waited years to write a review of this train wreck meets a dumpster fire of a film and, having just rewatched it for the 6th or 7th time, I'm finally ready.
There is so much glorious awfulness in this film it's difficult to know where to start. Elizabeth Berkley is way out of her depth playing the lead. She seems to be trying really hard, but just doesn't have the necessary acting chops to pull it off. She is playing it straight but doesn't realize it needed to be performed with an excess of arch campiness. Gina Gershon, who is way better than this material, said in an interview that when she finally realized that the film couldn't be taken seriously (apparently the director didn't convey that too well - more on him later), she got on board and provided the over-the-top archness required, somewhere around Joan Collins level. Kyle Maclachlan looks simply embarrassed by the whole affair; more power to him. The other actors are saddled with paper thin, one note, underwritten characters and deliver appropriate performances for them.
Writer Joe Eszterhas has turned out a script that seems to have been written by a 15 year-old, brain damaged and oversexed boy who is still a virgin. His dialog is ridiculous in the extreme, as if he had no idea how real people might speak to, or behave around, each other. It's an almost surreal experience to hear some of the tone-deaf exchanges in the movie. Joe apparently learned nothing between penning Flashdance and this film. At least Flashdance had some good music in it; this flick just has mortifying, forgettable dance numbers.
Director Paul Verhoeven, who directed some of my favorite films including RoboCop and Total Recall, bungles this film most delightfully. He seems more interested in nipples, and insuring the female cast members show them at all times, than in getting a decent performance from anyone. Those nipples get ice, champagne, sequins and lipstick on them. They are ready to go out and partay! Maybe if Paul could have gotten all the actors on the same page with their performances by explaining the satirical tone of the movie (if indeed that really was the aim of the script - I have my doubts), this might have been a way funnier, though not as deliciously inept and awful, cinematic exercise.
So why can't I go more than a few years without watching it again and again?
There is so much glorious awfulness in this film it's difficult to know where to start. Elizabeth Berkley is way out of her depth playing the lead. She seems to be trying really hard, but just doesn't have the necessary acting chops to pull it off. She is playing it straight but doesn't realize it needed to be performed with an excess of arch campiness. Gina Gershon, who is way better than this material, said in an interview that when she finally realized that the film couldn't be taken seriously (apparently the director didn't convey that too well - more on him later), she got on board and provided the over-the-top archness required, somewhere around Joan Collins level. Kyle Maclachlan looks simply embarrassed by the whole affair; more power to him. The other actors are saddled with paper thin, one note, underwritten characters and deliver appropriate performances for them.
Writer Joe Eszterhas has turned out a script that seems to have been written by a 15 year-old, brain damaged and oversexed boy who is still a virgin. His dialog is ridiculous in the extreme, as if he had no idea how real people might speak to, or behave around, each other. It's an almost surreal experience to hear some of the tone-deaf exchanges in the movie. Joe apparently learned nothing between penning Flashdance and this film. At least Flashdance had some good music in it; this flick just has mortifying, forgettable dance numbers.
Director Paul Verhoeven, who directed some of my favorite films including RoboCop and Total Recall, bungles this film most delightfully. He seems more interested in nipples, and insuring the female cast members show them at all times, than in getting a decent performance from anyone. Those nipples get ice, champagne, sequins and lipstick on them. They are ready to go out and partay! Maybe if Paul could have gotten all the actors on the same page with their performances by explaining the satirical tone of the movie (if indeed that really was the aim of the script - I have my doubts), this might have been a way funnier, though not as deliciously inept and awful, cinematic exercise.
So why can't I go more than a few years without watching it again and again?