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Payback

 

Payback? Payback? Yeah, I got yer payback--Gimme back the $6.50 I shelled out for this COLOSSAL waste of an exceptionally perfect Florida evening I could have spent at the Dairy Queen.

The director of this futile flick should have been Philip Morris--it was one long cigarette commercial! There was a butt going in every scene. Isn't that passe, outré, avant douche?

This movie was bad for your attention span and your lungs. And juuuuuust when I thought it couldn't get any worse--Kris Kristofferson shows up! His face looking more like a Shar-pei than ever. What's he lie face up in the sun 24 hours a day? The man looks like a human beef jerky. Is he the kiss of death or what? Anytime he's in  a movie--bam! You know it'll go straight to video! And for those of you who don't remember him --he's a sweating and beady-eyed creep, bad acting aside--he's just gross.

Okay, the story is supposedly about a guy named Porter (Mel Gibson) who goes against the "outfit" (what oufit? polyester? informal? dressy-casual?) for 70 grand. That's right--70 grand! Get a grip, nowadays kids spend that on sneakers in six months--no one's risking their life and challenging any "oufit" for 70 grand.

Gibson, who is actually a good actor, must have suffered through this script. Evidently he really wanted to prove that the Lethal Weapon series (about 1,000 now?) weren't pigeon-holing him. Either that, or his mortgage payment was past due.

A stronger script with a better eye for detail (e.g. better dialogue, delete Kristofferson, entirely different storyline) would have done the boy better.

In one particularly bad scene, Porter kills the crooked-mouth pansy-boy Carter (William Devane) supposedly the "head" of the outfit, by bullying his way into Carter's office (as if!) and disabling Carter's 7-foot three-hundred pound henchmen with one kung-fu move and then shooting Carter point blank in the chest. Carter does the FTD florist guy pose (Mercury) before croaking (too funny--we actually burst out laughing). Porter then strolls over to the desk with the slumped over Carter and finds, open and to the exact right page, get this--the absolute tippity-top, head honcho, grand poobah, of the "outfit's" --correct address and phone number! Who happens to be Kris Kristofferson! (by the way, this outfit had more heads than Medusa). For a moment there, I thought Samuel Morse tapped out the script, the scene was so badly telegraphed. It was more painful to watch than a nude scene with Rosie O'Donnell.

The supporting cast was pretty good. And this movie needed more support than James Coburn's varicose veins. Oh yeah, he was in this too--and he was good. The best line in the whole movie came from Coburn when Gibson was shooting at his custom made alligator luggage and in horror, Coburn declares "That's just mean!" That's how stupid this movie was.

Porter's nemesis Val (Greg Henry) the guy that stole Porter's 70 G's and left him for dead, besides portraying his character like a Marvel comic book villain, could have used a healthy supply of Preference by Loreal (#8). His hair looked about as natural as Michael Jackson's nose.

Kudos to the dominatrix chick-babe Pearl (Lucy Liu, who also plays Ling in Ally McBeal). She at least looked like she was she was enjoying her role. She was beating up and torturing men--how bad can that be? Although, the real torture from this movie came from watching it. Snack recommendation: Nicorette gum.

Starring: Mel Gibson, Lucy Liu, James Coburn

Directed by: Brian Helgeland (who was one of the writers for "L.A. Confidential". Apparently, we all fall from grace.)

Rated R: (for retarded)

 

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