subcommittee...
deniro. pacino. hackman. hoffman. o'toole, olivier, o big frickin deal. hacks. the whole gaggle. in this poorly photographed film, harris, an extremely gifted comedienne from the early second city days, plays the role of ellie tynan completely, and splendidly straight. great self-restraint. she pilfers every scene she's in. she pulls the rug right up from underneath meryl streep's feet. a performance which only further goes to prove what depth and range this earthquake of an actress once had. watch her reaction after discovering alda and streep's clandestine affair, its as authentic as the sistine chapel. the frickin sistine chapel! and how she attempts to tear the tynan bedroom apart when he gets home. watch as the two tumble down the family staircase, every step on the way down another nail in the coffin of their disintegrating marriage. the image of her spilling the contents of his briefcase still rings in my head. the very words "you sonofabitch!" are expressed so vehemenously, that you almost actually believe for a moment the two were genuinely in the middle of an allout marital conflict. alda's wounded puppy dog golden-boy senator is no match for harris' jilted caseworker--she gives him the 3rd degree and has him walk on the hot coals he has scattered. poor alda. maybe sleeping with streep wasnt such a good idea. oh ya-- alda telling melvyn douglas to quit speaking in french is hilarious--i mean, gut-busting. i urinated all over my khakis. rip torn and the gumbo was funny too. alan alda wrote a terrific screenplay and his grasp of the bureaucracy is dead-on and quite impressive(though not altogether surprising!)the wrap-up was pretty lame, but now i know where rage against the machine got their cover for the renegades of funk album.
lets see deniro try this!
avoid comparisons. comparisons cause arguements.
thank god for little baby ducks.