Picking Up the Pieces

This is not mass pop entertainment, but a massive Bunuelian romp by a major director, with lots of name-brand, off-kilter stars. It has its highs and lows, but all-in-all it's an intriguing concoction. Just the feat of getting Woody Allen out of NY and into the desert to play a character named "Tex" is worth seeing. Throw in some great Woody Allen gags ("We Jews didn't intentionally kill Jesus, it was just a party that got out of hand"), a mad trio of investigators from the Vatican (Elliot Gould, Fran Drescher, Andy Dick), and a mayor played by Cheech Marin, and you've a pinata of surprises and fun. It's definitely worth capturing on your TiVo.

This movie was interesting. I love Woody, and the cinematography was quite, quite excellent, yet the film failed to get me involved. The script, although pretty original, ultimately failed because of its lack of structure. I would hasten to say (and I haven't checked yet) that whoever wrote this was a first timer.

The story of the miracle hand was suitable idea, yet I felt more could have been done with it. In addition, the direction (from a director I admire) was sloppy. Much of the acting (Fran Drescher???) seemed less then inspired, although Woody Allen was (and always is) very good comedically. Stone was ok in her brief appearance, and David Schwimmer, although HORRIBLY MISCAST as a priest, (could he be ANY more Jewish?) worked.

I think my major problem with the movie was a seeming lack of professionalism, which isn't to say it was bad by any strech of the imagination. Watching a movie like this, you sort of have to suspend your disbelief. Any attempt to take it seriously would ruin the movie (apparently much of the cast and crew didn't take the project seriously)

ANYWAY...tough call on this, but 6/10 is my vote~

It's lucky for David Schwimmer that Fran Drescher and Woody Allen were along

for this loony ride, otherwise he would have had to take all the blame. The idea was crazy, the direction spliff-guided and the script lame. But the ACTING!

Woody does his stuttering, furrowed-brow, hands in the air schtick, but this is the umpteenth time and it is no longer just annoying, it's pathetic. Fran Drescher had one day, max two, on the set and treated it as a summer camp romp,

demonstrating ably that some people can build a career and a fortune on a

single act. Unfortunately, that act is on a TV set somewhere a million miles from this movie. But David Schwimmer!!?!! Oy-vey! He has one look (sensitive, troubled), one

tone of voice (ordering pizza on the phone) and no clues. Again, good luck to him for making a pile from being a Friend, but an actor he ain't. Kiefer Sutherland does his best with a stupid role but still doesn't convince as comic actor. Sharon Stone is great, but doesn't have more than a couple of

minutes on screen. But people -- this isn't a movie for watching. It's a movie for lying down, eyes shut, and hoping it will go away.

There's a way of watching movies in the 21st century. One doesn't. They're called background movies, the equivalent of background music. You stick them on, then ignore them, leaving you free to pursue the important things such as social media, selfies, getting in a tizzy over stuff that's none of your business. And all the while the movie plays in the background, the illusion of company you have the right to ignore.

Picking up the Pieces (2000) is ideal background material. Heck, I'm ignoring it right now. The thing it ain't half bad. Well, actually yes, it is. It's half bad, a third good, and the remainder is a mystery. Woody Allen plays some guy in the witness protection program(me). He has a dog called Pinky and an ex-wife called Candy: ex- because he just murdered her on account of her infidelity. Part of her body becomes a holy relic after a blind lady trips over it and is miraculously cured. This means an influx of interest at the local church - this all happens in Mexico, or Texas, or the border inbetween - which is good news for the bored cleric (David Schwimmer). Trouble is, Candy's lover is a cop and he's on the case, and well, stuff.

Everyone plays according to type. Woody is very Woodyish, Schwimmer is very Rossish, Kiefer Sutherland (the cop) is very badass, and Sharon Stone plays the miracle working bimbo as if it were second nature. They all got well paid to phone it in, and some did so rather better than others. Schwimmer is particularly bad.

But the film is genuinely funny, sporadically, and at other times one can laugh at it, and wonder, who is directing this tripe? What were they thinking?

One thing's for sure, it makes Woody Allen's crime comedy of that year, Small Time Crooks (2000) look masterful by comparison. There he's opposite a Frenchie instead of a Candy or a Pinky. That one's a bit ragged too, truth be told, but Allen the director is far more in control of his material than the director of Pieces.

A weird double-bill, perhaps? Light up a fatty and settle in for a night of giggles.

The bawdy, crass jokes and lowbrow humor employed in Bill Wilson's script work in his story about a kosher butcher who catches his unfaithful wife in the act and is driven to homicidal maniacal behavior. From the gags involving a permanently frozen hand with its middle finger extended, to the obvious dialog quips, this movie is highly entertaining, with Farrelly/Coen Brothers influences. The impressive cast executes all the silliness with great ease and skill. Woody Allen's characteristically droll performance makes an interesting backdrop against the film's New Mexico locale.

Despite the obvious nature of the story, Director Alfonso Arau's use of visual realism lends to it's contrasting irony. Arau's style is reminiscent of some of Mexico's better comedies celebrating the culture through humorous eyes.