Jim Emerson

Has ìThe Sopranosî whacked the mob comedy?

It sure feels that way ó at least for now. Just about anything is going to feel slight next to David Chaseís 86-episode magnum opus, the rare genre piece that matches or exceeds its influences, from ìThe Godfatherî movies to ìGoodFellas.î

But ìYou Kill Meî is as flimsy and uninspired as the double entendre of its title. It looks lightweight next to ìAnalyze This.î Maybe even ìAnalyze That.î

This time, the mobster doesnít go to a shrink. He goes to AA meetings. Drinking, you see, interferes with his work ó as a hit man. You canít kill people effectively if youíre drunk and pass out before your mark arrives.

Although it is ostensibly set in present-day Buffalo and San Francisco, the comic sensibility of ìYou Kill Meî is curiously retrograde. The movie begins with a couple of Polish jokes under the opening credits. The first one is pretty good: Alcoholic contract killer Frank Falenczyk (Ben Kingsley) shovels his front sidewalk, repeatedly tossing his fifth of vodka into the snow as an incentive to keep forging ahead.

The second one is just a set-up/punchline gag overheard on a radio talk show: ìHow do you get a one-armed Pollock out of a tree? You wave to him.î

From there, the movie switches targets and degenerates into a stream of gay jokes so witless they donít even qualify as jokes. Theyíre just references (over)written as if they were jokes.

And thatís the movieís problem. ìYou Kill Meî features a group of extremely talented people doing everything they can to improve a thin and puerile script. They succeed, but thereís only so much they can do.

Director John Dahl is a master of modern absurdist noir (ìRed Rock West,î ìThe Last Seduction,î ìRoundersî). Cinematographer Jeffrey Jur (who also shot ìThe Last Seductionî) splashes the screen with intense blue and yellow gels and creates angular, shadow-streaked wide-screen compositions that translate a noirish sensibility into vivid color. And the cast is a dream: Kingsley, Tea Leoni, Bill Pullman, Luke Wilson, and as rival mob bosses, Dennis Farina and Philip Baker Hall.

And what do they have to work with? A tepid, derivative screenplay by Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely (ìThe Life and Death of Peter Sellersî) that feels like a first draft by a film-school sophomore. Maybe a second draft. So much talent in the service of so little.

ìYou Kill Meî has the feel of an old rÈsumÈ script, a writing sample that sat around on development executivesí shelves for years, and then, somehow, got made when the screenwriters had some success on later projects.

(Turns out it was written in 1995.) By now, weíve not only seen it all before, weíve seen it done with far greater wit and panache. The 12-step meeting stuff is decaf ìFight Club.î The pathetic attempts at making amends smack of ìMy Name Is Earl.î The funeral home ìblack comedyî pales next to ìSix Feet Under.î No wonder ìYou Kill Meî seems like too little, too late.

And then thereís the scene where Kingsley, in his underwear, pulls a gun on a San Francisco city supervisor in his office. Why? Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk were gunned down in San Francisco City Hall in 1978. What is the point? Is this supposed to be another unfunny homophobic gag in a movie strewn with them? No offense to Sir Ben, who does a mean deadpan, but his performance here is frequently more dead than pan ó which, given the material, was probably the wisest acting choice. The accent is a bit wobbly, too. And the central love story ó well, itís established that Leoniís character may be looking for a father figure, but the 23-year age difference between her and Kingsley is a bit tough to swallow. And itís not just any old 23-year age difference ó like, say, the one between 22 and 45 ó but, specifically, itís the one between Tea Leoni at 39 and Ben Kingsley at 62. That can make your stomach hurt just a little bit.

If you want to see some really dark, funny, twisted hit-man comedies, how about Wallace Wolodarskyís ìColdbloodedî (Jason Priestley, Peter Riegert, Robert Loggia) or Saul Rubinekís ìJerry and Tomî (Joe Mantegna, Sam Rockwell, Peter Riegert, with a script by Chicago theater vet Rick Cleveland) ó both underappreciated and barely released, but much more potent and original than ìYou Kill Me.î Or you could always rent ìGrosse Pointe Blankî again.
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Jim Emerson, editor of the Web site rogerebert.com, is filling in for Roger Ebert as he recovers from surgery.