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.
