If Nicolas Cage had not chosen this script for his directing debut, I wonder if the money would ever have been found to put together this misbegotten effort. Set in 1980s New Orleans, James Franco returns home from his stint in the army to the house of his mother, an erstwhile whore and madame, with only one bedraggled Mena Suvari in her current stable. Franco has been selling his sexual prowess under his mother's guidance since the age of twelve (although he is something of a weedy stud), but is now hoping for a new start. This seems increasingly unlikely, as his past is ever present and as he is unable to contain his raging temper.
The dominating mother is played by a screechy Brenda Blethyn and it is a mystery to me why she is chosen for American roles where a native-born actress could only improve on her thick Southern drawl. Meanwhile Franco and Suvari speak a version of English which I can only describe as "mumble". There is a small amount of compensation in the supporting roles, with Harry Dean Stanton impressive as a ne'er do well family friend and Seymour Cassel as his gambling buddy. However I think Brenda Vaccaro is now probably too old and chubby to willingly accept roles that involve her baring her boobies.
Cage takes a cameo role for himself as a powerful local pimp dressed in a banana-yellow suit and a Harpo Marx fright wig, leaving me to wonder if this slice of southern Gothic sex drama could have made more than a couple of bucks at the box office. Hopefully Cage will restrain himself from further directing duties and limit himself to the increasingly dire, but popular, flicks that he manages to churn out.
1 comment:
How do you raggle a bed? Presumably it was not the Franco physique but his
size and use of the continually hidden instrument necessary for studly duties.
A poorly directed, badly acted load of tosh
Post a Comment