Reviewed by Brian Moore
Rating: 8.5 Beans
t has been a tortuous eight years, but I think that I am ready to talk about the most horrific experience I have ever had. I no longer fear the eternal fires of Hell, because I have been inured. I, under my own volition and under no threat of physical or psychic trauma, saw "Blue Steel".
Had it not been a free screening, I would not have gone. Had it not had Jamie Lee Curtis in it, I would not have gone. Had it not entrapped me by using an inocuous title like "Blue Steel", instead of a more instructive title like "The Soul-Crushing Boredom and Illogic That You Will One Day Recognize As The Hallmark Of A Kathryn Bigelow Film -- But Alas Not Today", I would have hesitated. But my fate was cast in the stars like Oedipus Rex. And like Oedipus, I felt the overpowering desire to claw out my eyes. Yes, I would have even considered marrying my mother if it would have stopped the pain. The pain known to me now as "Blue Steel".
I have not seen the film again since that day, but I cannot forget it. Jamie Lee Curtis plays a cop who stops a robbery. In the process she loses her gun, which is retrieved by Ron Silver. The possession of the gun drives him to commit crimes. Meanwhile Curtis is meddling in her parents' troubles, as well as those of friend Elizabeth Pena. At this point I started to panic, because I was hemmed in by moviegoers on either side and cpuld not escape. I tried desperately to occupy my mind with menial tasks to survive the film. During well-lit scenes, I attempted to count the ceiling tiles. I mentally sang the theme song to "Gilligan's Island" backwards. As a result, the Prince of Darkness was invoked, and came to Earth to torment me -- in the form of the final reel of "Blue Steel".
From what I can piece together through the haze of the anti-psychotic drugs I required after the screening, Curtis boinks some guy who then gets shot, and later she and Silver have a shootout. Clearly, the plot is not important. What is important, however, is this: Curtis and Bigelow have so much faith in the script and direction that there is not a single Jamie Lee Curtis nude
scene. Now I don't want to be the champion of gratuitous nudity on screen (are you listening, Harvey Keitel?), but this *is* Jamie Lee Curtis I'm taling about. For those of you unfamiliar with her ealy work, she was to the 80's what Julianna Moore is today -- an actress who strives to simultaneously perfect her craft as an actress and finad a way to go starkers in every film she makes. I'm not saying that all female actresses have to strip in every flick, but I do feel that if you are in a film as terrible as this,and you have disrobed in at least one decent film in the past, then you are honor bound to drop trou. It's a way to secretly signal to the audience that nothing could be more embarassing to be in this film, not even standing around naked on a soundstage with an entire film crew.
So in short:
1) If you feel the need to see a Jamie Lee Curtis
flick, go with anything else.
2) If your feel the need to see a cop drama, go
with anthing else.
3) If you feel the need to see a Kathryn Bigelow
film, seek professional help.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go throw up for a couple of hours.
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