by Susan Ellis
Virgins were tossed into volcanos
for this?
Dante's Peak is a tepid natural-disaster film that will have no one quaking in their boots. With little firepower of its own, Dante's Peak resorts to the most basic conceits of this genre and makes Twister seem absolutely high-brow -- flying cows and all.
Pierce Brosnan plays Harry Dalton, who enters the picturesque North Pacific town of Dante's Peak touting the sci-fi-sounding title of "volcanologist." Harry's been sent to investigate some suspicious tremors coming from the town's mountain. And once he happens upon a couple boiled to death while frolicking in one of the mountain's hot springs, he's ready to sound the alarm bells. "How big of a problem do we have here, Harry?" asks the town's mayor and foxy divorced mother Rachel Wando (Linda Hamilton), since obviously the surprise appearance of floating corpses is of no concern and she's got a booming cappuccino shop to run. "I don't know," he answers sternly, "but I think you should call a city council meeting."
Just as Harry's telling the town to run for their lives, Harry's boss Paul (Charles Hallahan) comes along bearing his team of gung-ho volcano watchers and tells everybody to chill. If everybody leaves, he warns, what will happen to the town's tourism?
So for the sake of the town's image (named the second-best town to live in by Money magazine), Harry and his crew rummage around the peak to see what's up. Harry insists that it's going to blow, while Paul says it's not. After Paul dismisses some small quakes, Harry gets his dander up and says, "They weren't tectonic. They were metamorphic." But, no, Paul won't listen, and what do you know? -- the peak spews.
Before Dante's Peak blows, Harry gives their situation an analogy. If a frog is put in boiling water, he'll jump out. But, if a frog is put in cool water that is then heated to a boil, the frog will stay and die. The townspeople are boiling to death, he says. Yet the audience of Dante's Peak, within minutes, knows the outcome. Written by Leslie Bohem (Daylight), this film drags with clichˇs. In the opening scenes, set years before his excursion to Dante's Peak, Harry is seen fleeing from volcano fallout. When he stops to fetch his lady love, the audience members think, Yep, she's dead. When they see the couple in the hot springs, they think, They're goners, too. If given a lineup of all the film's characters -- from the crusty ex-mother-in-law to the family dog -- before the show begins, their fate could no doubt be predicted. No amount of ash or fiery rivers of lava can cover this up.
As directed by Roger Donaldson (No Way Out, The Getaway), Brosnan and Hamilton seem resigned to their fates. Brosnan shows very little force in this role, perhaps with the notion that it's a lost cause. Hamilton only goes as far as to appear just a bit unnerved, although her character and the character's kids are about to blown to smithereens.
While Dante's Peak never erupts, this isn't the end of it. There's another volcano film due this spring.
THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD, DIRECTED BY DAN Ireland and written by Michael Scott
Myers, is based on the memoir by Novalyne Price Ellis, which follows her
mid-1930s relationship with Robert Howard, the creator of the Conan pulp-fiction
series.
An aspiring writer, Novalyne (played by Renee Zellweger) is taken with Robert (Vincent D'Onofrio), who actually makes his living writing, even before she meets him. Set up by a former beau, the strong-minded Novalyne finds that being wooed by Robert is as dramatic as his stories. Robert is a self-proclaimed misfit who's obsessively attached to his mother. He's also slovenly and boorish and laughs at Novalyne's story ideas. But his passion and imagination have Novalyne hooked -- until he tells her he walks the road alone. Novalyne starts seeing another man, but soon realizes she can't shake Robert that easily.
What makes The Whole Wide World such a charmer -- in this age of big bangs and dysfunction -- is its simplicity. And because of this, the success of the film rests in the hands of Zellweger and D'Onofrio. The story is set in a wide-open area of Texas that courts big and small dreams. Robert is trapped by his hometown and his mother, but sees a world of long-ago with ringing swords, conquered empires, and big-breasted women. D'onofrio (who had a memorable role as the recruit who shoots his drill sergeant, then himself, in Full Metal Jacket) seems a man about to burst with all the ideas cramming his head. Novalyne, on the other hand, looks beyond Texas and favors tales involving people like the ones she knows. Zellweger is very expressive, switching naturally from amusement to disgust to confusion. Together, the characters are a clash of wills.
The Whole Wide World is a lovingly told story of what was, what might have been, and for those far-reaching souls, what could be.
SHE COULD HAVE LEFT WELL enough alone. The Nanny's Fran Drescher gets a weekly paycheck and a nice long hiatus. She could have spent her off-time hawking makeup and big-hair products. But what does she do? She makes the miserable The Beautician and the Beast, an insult not only to her TV fans but to beauticians and beasts everywhere.
Drescher plays a New York beauty-school teacher named Joy Miller who accidentally gets hired to tutor the motherless children of the growling president of a small Eastern European country, Boris Pochenko (Timothy Dalton). When the mistake is discovered, she vows to keep mum and work with what she's got. Then, she gives the president, the kids, and the country a makeover.
Joy wins the children over with lessons on how to calculate frequent-flyer miles and how to dye shoes to match handbags, but Boris presents a nastier challenge. Yet, who wouldn't relent to someone who regulates your mayonnaise intake? The gags largely revolve around her meddling. For example, she forms a union for factory workers and gets tangled up in one daughter's affair with a rebel.
The Beautician and the Beast is a combination spoof of The Beauty and the Beast and The Sound of Music (with a nod to Evita) presented with Drescher's Jewish-girl flair. It's a tried-and-true formula that's given Drescher TV success. But sometimes, like in this case, it can just be trying.