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There is a kind of deliciousness to the great movie villains. By setting out to do evil, they tempt our own darker natures. By getting away with it, they alarm us: Is there nothing safe or sacred?

............ Roger Ebert

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A movie so breathtakingly vile it has to seen twice to be savored fully.

............ Bruce Kirkland (Toronto Sun)

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Sometimes there is a very strange route that gets traveled upon until I finally come up with the flick to review each Friday/Saturday night, and this week turned out to be a very good example of that twisty-turny path.

Sometimes I just have a title come to me, sort of out of the blue, spontaneous inspiration and all that. Other times, I consciously look for a pattern or a link of some kind, typically thematic or character associations, or of course a similarity to the subject of the current week's Buffy or Angel. This week, I started out by thinking about last week's column, and how I came to recommend a film despite its having more than a modicum of melodrama about it.

So, I thought (at approximately midweek's point), what would be a good followup to a classic, albeit admittedly melodramatic film like Legends of the Fall? How about a film that was classically good, even though it often wandered in excessive sentimentality? OK, sounds like a plan-- so go for it.

Regular readers of this space know by now that I tend to be of a very forgiving nature as to the faults evident in the end product that can appear during the process of artistic creativity. If I like most of a film, I prefer to overlook its weaknesses, and keep the focus primarily on what it does well. I do this for the elementary reason that I think it is very possible to hold yourself to such a high standard that you forget how to simply enjoy things. So maybe it is only a really decent chicken salad sandwich on whole wheat toast with nice crispy lettuce, it isn't breaking any rules to fail to enjoy it if it's served on a paper plate.

Keeping this accepting spirit in mind, the idea to review Penny Marshall's film A League of Their Own popped into my head. This film contains an interesting story, based on true events, events that prior to seeing the flick, I had never even been remotely aware of. Marshall chose to do her film as a fictionalization rather than a documentary, and that's all fine with me too. The acting is quite well done, especially by leads Geena Davis and Tom Hanks, with fine supporting performances all around. The only place where many viewers, myself included, felt let down was by the choice to frame the interesting part-- the story-- with a clunky, almost mawkish sentimental series of scenes that took place in the 'present time', with the elderly 'survivors' of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League.

Now, I have seen League probably about 5 or 6 times since it was first released. Even so, I nearly always replay a film again before actually writing the column, just to get it refreshed in my mind. I know every scene very well by now, so the 'sentimental' portions certainly didn't come as a surprise, but what did come as sort of a surprise was my reaction to them this time around.

That reaction, in a nutshell, was that I found myself really bothered by them, enough so that I began to question whether I wanted to vote this film into my (admittedly oddball) collection of 'Classics'. I didn't have to think that long-- the answer was no, I didn't.

So, having already done the usual technical research that you always see posted at the end of the review each week, I decided to abandon it and seek out another film which pushes the idealistic envelope, but stops just short of total treacle. Hummm... I thought, lessee... baseball, summer, underdogs... Ah-ha! I'll do The Sandlot, directed by David M. Evans, a very good story about kids and baseball and summer that... that.... does pretty much the same thing that League does-- gets so rosy-colored in it's emotive nostalgia that it unfairly undermines itself. Maybe not fatally, but like with Marshall's film, leaves itself just a smidge short of true 'classic' status.

By now I'm wondering, is it me? Have I suddenly turned into one of those people who become increasingly picky with advancing age, until they just have to find something wrong with everything? I mean, these are both decent films, plenty good'nuf for an evening of lighthearted summertime viewing while camped around your TV set, munching popcorn and huddling against the late evening chill of the air conditioning. Why shouldn't they be classics?

Or maybe it's just that I'm not in the right mood right this moment. I've been busy again at work, and as a result of the longer hours I'm often very tired and finding it harder to be creative. Maybe it's resentment. Maybe I don't want to feel all happy and sentimental, perhaps I need a little evil in my life.

And sure enough, as soon as I grok this fact, the muse comes through. I go up to my disc library, and have thumbed only a short way through a pile of new acquisitions when I come across a film that makes other film noir titles sit up and take notice for its sure and pervasive perversity. A film that has, as its chief exponent of dark intent, a femme fatale so amoral that the film was released into cable and video distribution without ever first going into U.S. theaters, apparently because no distributor in Hollywood knew what to do with it (read: How the hell do we market this thing??). Then, the film opened in London, to large attendance, and substantial critical plaudits. It subsequently opened in American theaters, but due to a quirk in the rulebook governing the Academy Awards, the film's lead actor, Linda Fiorentino, lost her chance at even a nomination because the film wasn't released in U.S. theaters first. Remember this when you think about BtVS getting repeatedly snubbed by the Emmy folks-- our Buffyverse isn't the only case where great achievement goes officially unrecognized because it 'doesn't fit the rulebook'.

I bring you a masterpiece of modern noir cynicism, this week's Classic Movie (and it SO deserves it, totally, madly, deeply), The Last Seduction, directed by John Dahl. Starring the above-mentioned Linda Fiorentino as Bridget Gregory, the most lovely and heartless noir bitch you have likely ever seen, or may ever see, in a performance that you will never forget. The screenwriting is crisp and clever, memorably great lines leap out at you virtually every five minutes.

The film starts out with a drug deal pulled off by Bridget's husband, Clay (Bill Pullman) that provides him with a take of $700,000. We soon discover that Bridget put him up to this deal, claiming that they can use the money to improve their lifestyle, get a new home, what have you. But Bridget is already several steps ahead-- she grabs the money and takes off for the hinterlands, ending up in the tiny New York town of Beston, where a bartender refuses to serve her the Manhattan she ordered because she didn't say 'please'.

Bridget originally has no intention of staying in Beston, but a sleazy lawyer friend she consults with by phone recommends that she avoid larger (and more 'obvious') destinations while he works out divorce proceedings between her and Clay. Then, into her life-- and unwillingly on her part at first-- comes a young man, Mike Swale (Peter Berg), a disillusioned Beston native who aims for 'something bigger' for his life. He sees that opportunity arise in the very attractive vision of Bridget, and proceeds to try to seduce her. To say that this is a mistake of the first order is the understatement of a lifetime, and Bridget, who at first repeatedly dismisses him for anything other than pure animalistic sexual gratification, realizes that she can make him a willing patsy in her own nefarious schemes.

This is a film that bears repeated viewings, not only so one can better follow the intricacies of Bridget's admittedly brilliant maneuverings, but also to appreciate the fact that Mike participates willingly in his own downfall, even though he is unquestionably manipulated into doing so by Bridget. One of the discoveries I made this time around while revisiting the movie was just how many times Bridget gives him the opportunity to get out, and escape the consequences of her evil intentions. Every single times that he pulls back, he eventually gives in, even as the demands of his lover become more and more outrageous. It is simultaneously appalling and amusing-- Mike is the perfect sap, lead on almost mindlessly by his lust, while Bridget effortlessly separates the action of her brain and her genitals, and comes out ahead every time.

I won't give away any more of the plot, because one of the many wicked delights of this movie is that as soon as you think you know what will happen next, you'll probably be wrong, right up to the very end. Most films like this, that involve a 'femme fatale', eventually give in to the moralistic urge to show that there is a glimmer of decency and humanity buried deep within the soul of the anti-heroine. To quote one of the many great lines of dialog directed at Bridget from The Last Seduction that could just as well refer to any decently evil vamp from the Buffyverse:

"Anyone check you for a heartbeat lately?"

Rose-colored visions of summertime baseball, anyone? Nahh, didn't think so.

Enjoy.

E. Pluribus Cinema, Unum,

OnM

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Technical psychopathology:

The Last Seduction is available on DVD; the review copy was on laserdisc. The film was released in 1994 and running time is 1 hour and 50 minutes. The original cinematic aspect ratio is 1.85:1, which was preserved on the laserdisc and presumably also on the DVD.

Writing credits go to Steve Barancik. Cinematography was by Jeff Jur, with film editing by Eric L. Beason. Production design was by Linda Pearl, with art direction by Dina Lipton and set decoration by Katherine Lucas. Costume Design was by Terry Dresbach. Original music was by Joseph Vitarelli. The original theatrical sound mix was in 'Ultra Stereo'.

Cast overview:

Linda Fiorentino .... Bridget Gregory / Wendy Kroy
Peter Berg .... Mike Swale
Bill Pullman .... Clay Gregory
Michael Raysses .... Phone Sales Rep
Zack Phifer .... Gas Station Attendant
Bill Nunn .... Harlan
J.T. Walsh .... Frank Griffith
Brien Varady .... Chris
Dean Norris .... Shep
Donna Wilson .... Stacy
Mik Scriba .... Ray
Herb Mitchell .... Bob Trotter
Renee Rogers .... Receptionist

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The Question of the Week:

Another easy one this week, in keeping with the general idea that it's too hard to think in the heat:

Who (or what) is your all-time favorite movie villain, and why?

(Bridget gets my vote, by the way. I mean, let's face it, Darth Vader could take lessons. Hell, The Emperor could take a college course with her as the professor. Of course she'd have to kill him afterward and collect the insurance, which somehow or other has her named as beneficiary.)

Post 'em etc., and see you next week!

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