Pizza Man (1991)

Funny and political, but nearly unbearably silly, this ridiculous faux-noir centers on a 30-ish pizza man (go figure) as he warily ventures deep into East Hollywood to deliver (*gasp*) a large anchovy and sausage pizza. The pizza man, Elmo, is played by Bill Maher in, from what I gather, what was his only real leading man gig, and much of the humor follows suit: along his journey, he encounters politicos such as Dan Quayle, Ronald Reagan, and, in the least dated touch, "Donnie," the lost, insecure former pizza boy. The whole story is relayed through a sort of neo-noir guise, with Maher delivering a consistent deadpan voiceover relating his pizza-oriented agenda like a cop walking his beat, complete with dispatch calls and a no-nonsense, "just the facts" demeanor. This element masks the true nature of the film's script, which is a then-contemporary political satire, and due to writer/director J.F. Lawton's clear knowledge of noir archetypes and cliches, it keeps the film chugging along right past its stuck-in-the-early-'90s satirical targets, such as Quayle's momma's boy idiocy and presidential candidate Michael Dukakis's shoddy speaking skills. Lawton shoots L.A. through Elmo's winshield like its Taxi Driver, and keeps the film simultaneously rooted in both light-and-shadow driven noir and neon-soaked L.A. nightlife imagery. The one aspect Lawton cannot cover up through sheer style is his budget; the shabby sets are reused, action scenes are ugly and hobbled together, and the supporting cast is filled to the brim with nobody celebrity impersonators, along with a game, but ultimately underwhelming femme fatale by ways of Annabelle Gurwitch. Bill Maher's acerbic wit (and particular political sensibilities) makes him a refreshing, ideally detached noir lead, and, while it is obvious why he didn't parlay this into a serious career as a movie star (see his oft-referenced and disastrous attempt at injecting irony into a nonsensical dance sequence), him and the material have the same bizarre, specific kismit that Dennis Miller was able to harness in the similarly noir-tinged Tales from the Crypt Presents Bordello of Blood. The infectious energy and cleverness Maher and Lawton invested in this film gives it a lot of momentum and many memorable lines and scenarios; its lack of big-budget professionalism takes turns working for and against the production, making it a relatively exclusive, yet fairly rewarding affair for its specific audience (for all those interested: this bad boy's impossible to find, save for on youtube).

Recommended for fans of Bill Maher, or the politically savvy with a particularly clear memory of the general goings-on circa 1991. This is a less fantastic, yet more pointed effort than Lawton and Maher's previous team-up, Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death; it wrings more mileage out of its noir setup than the latter's 50's B-movie trappings, yet fails to parade Shannon Tweed and Adrienne Barbeau around in jungle bikinis (a heinous crime if ever there was one).

Mistress (1992)

Funny, pointed satire of Hollywood involving the efforts of two huckster screenwriters and a producer to make a film that, as it turns out, is just an excuse for the money-men to put their mistresses on camera. Robert Wuhl is the writer of a years-old melodrama revolving around the suicide of an artist unwilling to compromise (gotta love the foreshadowing) who gets a call from desperate producer Martin Landau and his young spec screenwriter saying that they believe they can get financing for the picture. The rest of the film involves Wuhl and Co. pitching the script to various financiers, who each have their own nitpicks with the script, with the commonality that they all want their girlfriends to appear in the picture in a sizable role. Every compromise Wuhl makes to his beloved script is another compromise of his integrity; this film is noteworthy for making the writer, normally portrayed as a beleaguered, passionate artist or a hack, into a confused, aimless narcissist tired of defending a script that only he loves in lieu of making a compromised, but released picture. The directorial style is fairly barebones, letting the play-like dialogue and monologues take full focus, which works here only because of the acting talent involved; the prospective money-men include Robert DeNiro, Danny Aiello, and Eli Wallach, all of whom kill their respective performances, particularly DeNiro's Hollywood hotshot. Wuhl, and, especially, Landau, are both terrifically desperate and pathetic, as is Jean Smart as Aiello's aging stewardess mistress and Sheryl Lee Ralph as the proposed lead actress for the film. The script, co-written by Under Siege and Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death scribe J.F. Lawton, is not quite as nihilistic as similar showbiz comedies The Player or Swimming With Sharks, but it definitely portrays Hollywood as a soulless vacuum where all integrity must be checked at the door for any sort of tangible, monetary success.

Recommended for fans of Hollywood-centric comedies a la The Player or The Last Shot, or the stellar cast. I wasn't expecting much of a film with DeNiro, Aiello, and Landau from '92 that I had never heard of, but this one is indeed worth seeking out if the setup tickles your fancy.

The Pickle (1993)

Alright parable for Paul Mazursky's own career, with a wannabe-Fellini overtone that reveals the whole thing to be as derivative and trashy as it is. Danny Aiello plays, ostensibly, Mazursky, a director who, desperate for a hit (god what a cliche), takes a job directing a movie about a flying pickle and a planet of spandex-wearing aliens that only live to 48 (including Isabella Rosellini, Little Richard, and Griffin Dunne). On the night of the premiere, he drowns himself in booze, pills, and women in an attempt to soften the blow he is sure the film is going to give to his career. The decadent indulgence, along with his sporadic laments over the glorious idealized films he never got to make, such as a version of Cortez and Montezuma with Beatty and Hoffman (this part's actually played seriously), almost become a parody of Fellini, with the grand intentions and self-importance but none of the production value, creativity, or energy to back it up. The movie is never funny enough to be a comedy, never moving enough to be a drama, and never entertaining enough to be something in between.

That being said, the performances are pretty spot on. Aiello plays Mazursky to the T, allowing the hypocrisy of the chubby, faux artiste who sleeps with his similarly-aged ex-wife the same day as his 22 year-old girlfriend to shine right on the surface; you cannot fault Mazursky with having too much ego (never mind...on the dvd he says the characters not based on him PSHHH). Dyan Cannon, as his ex, is lively and humorous, while Clotilde Courau, as his mistress, is wide-eyed and sympathetic. Chris Penn, Jerry Stiller, Shelly Winters (as Aiello's mom), and Barry Miller turn in strong work to accentuate their terribly underwritten parts; this is Mazursky's show, about Mazursky, all other denizens of the world be damned. But the best moments in the film belong to the film within the film, The Pickle, sending up all the contrivance and forced sentimentality of 80s and early 90s Hollywood with pitch-perfect accuracy. E.T. and Howard the Duck seem particularly evoked in these scenes. Dudley Moore has his last great role from within the film, delivering the line, "It's a bird, it's a plane...IT'S A PICKLE!"

Slightly Recommended for fans of Mazursky, Aiello, or Fellini knock-offs about floundering filmmakers stuggling for relevance. I am not in the latter catagory, so this film didn't really work for me. Then again, neither does much of Fellini...

Postcards from the Edge (1990)

Pretty damn successful chick flick written by Carrie Fisher and directed by the terrifically talented Mike Nichols. This one concerns an estranged mother and daughter that are forced to live together, and thus reach a sort of transcendental bond that makes both of them better people. That sounds terribly lame and unappealing to a cock-carrying viewer, right? Well there are several crucial elements going for it. Number 1: The mother and daughter are played by Shirly Maclaine and Meryl Streep, respectively. Number 2: The mother and daughter are supposed to represent Debbie Reynolds and Carrie Fisher herself. Number 3: The supporting cast includes Dennis Quaid, Richard Dreyfus, Gene Hackman, Oliver Platt, and Annette Bening. They all rock ass, especially Quaid as a slick-talking womanizer, and Hackman as a director beating a good performance out of the drug-addled Streep.

Princess Leia can write; the dialogue in this one is pretty sharp, and the relationship between the mother and daughter is very well developed and, for the most part, void of cliches. Mike Nichols, when given a good script, is one of the best in the business, and his touch is evident here in this view of Hollywood from the perspective of a third generation actress, for whom the glitz and glamor is all a facade, and a tired facade at that. If the movie is less than perfect, it is because sometimes it does fall into the trap of being a 90's era Fried Green Tomatoes-esque feminine righteousness film (not surprising, given Fisher's rep), and betrays its universal, non-exclusive appeal. Which is a shame, because there are not enough "chick flicks" that can work for both men and women, and this is very close to being one of them.

Recommended for showbiz junkies, Streep or Maclaine fans, or...chicks I guess. I enjoyed it very much, but no perfect marks due to too many inevitably sappy, estrogen-soaked moments. Even so, as evidenced in several scenes here, no estrogen in the world stands a chance against...HACKMAN!!