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Remember the Saturday Night Live faux advertisement for the US Navy, way back in the late '70s? It was their gentle jab at the Navy's advertising slogan, "It's not just a job, it's an adventure!" The phony ad showed sailors doing what sailors do--chipping and painting a matronly and decidedly unglamorous replenishment ship. It was a funny ad, a stark contrast to the real one that showed bluejackets breezily enjoying the sights of exotic ports of call.

Jump forward to the late '80s and catch a CBS "48 Hours" episode about the lives of sailors on a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier. It was a good, solid piece of expository work that showed the violent excitement and danger of a carrier's flight operations contrasted with the much, much more mundane doings below decks, in the galley, the engineering spaces, etc. Said one sailor, covered with grease and saturated by sweat, "You're never gonna see a movie titled "Top Engineer."

I've always held a deep, abiding respect for our Navy (I even considered joining at the start of the Reagan years), but the tedium of swabbing decks somewhere down there in the large intestine of a flattop just didn't grab me.

And I said no.

Which brings us to Cinderella Liberty, a not-really-a-chick-flick with James Caan as a career swabbie, a guy who joined because he needed a steady gig, and Marsha Mason as the non-Hollywood-traditional whore he befriends in Seattle. I say non-traditional because she is NOT Julia Roberts but a chemical-saturated and beaten-up-by-life hooker who is trying to figure out how to take care of her adolescent son, keep a roof over their heads, and not get too involved with Caan. This proves difficult for Caan because he--like me--finds Mason imperfectly lovely, sexy, and appealing.

CL is such a (and I hate to use this cliché, but I will) slice of life (under the waterline, that is) with Caan having no great ambition other than to maintain his rank and his dental integrity while helping Mason and her son, not to mention his friend Eli Wallach.

Caan is a essentially a skilled grease monkey--no deep thinking here-- and he turns the hooker cliché on its head. He's the one with the heart of gold, not Mason. As you watch, she becomes less and less appealing. Her self-destructive impulses overwhelm her prettiness. Bad decisions blot out a perky nose, coy overbite, and non-fashion-model curves.

To add an extra layer of quality to the story, there's Seattle herself, here more matronly and replenishment ship homely than in your travel brochure. The Emerald City is rendered by the locale choices to feel working class, not flight-deck glamorous.

In closing, I recommend Cinderella Liberty because it is an honest film with nice, believable people and a story that shows rust streaks and all.

It's a fine entertainment.

Cinderella Liberty presents a world of lonely people looking for a little love in their lives. James Caan does a complete turnaround from his Godfather persona playing John Baggs, Jr. -- a sensitive, lovesick and positive sailor who backs into (or does it back into him?) the life of Maggie Paul (Marsha Mason), a pool playing barroom hustler with a biracial son, Doug (Kirk Calloway) whose tough exterior reveals a very sad and lonely boy. This comedy-drama creeps up on you like the love the characters feel for each is slowly realized. Excellent work by everyone here -- but this one bears a repeat watch for the work of Kirk Calloway, who is amazing as the boy and Eli Wallach, Baggs' alter-ego of a what lonely Navy life could hold for him. Look for this gem and go back to a time in film acting when real emotions were all the special effects needed to entertain and touch you.

When Cinderella Liberty was released I'd only been out of the Navy about a year, so I was automatically biased in favor of it. I happened across the film on AMC this morning, and was pleased to see that it holds up well. James Caan is perfect as the lifer-by-default, a guy apparently motivated by inertia and the need for a job rather than any driving patriotic force. Marsha Mason is likewise great as the whore-with-a-heart (not necessarily a heart of gold), and the boy who plays her son is superb. Eli Wallach is flawless as the lifer left over from the old "Rocks and Shoals" Navy, a genuinely tough era much more closely-related to life in the 19th century than the 21st. If you want a look at enlisted life in the Navy, especially in the early 70's (yes, they did allow mustaches and a bit of hair in those days), I would recommend this film wholeheartedly.

This is a fine sweet-natured character study about big-hearted losers groping their way. The flavor of pre-grunge and pre-latte downtown Seattle drenches the film, evoked by the many authentic locations unearthed by director Rydell. Caan and Mason, as many have pointed out, are just terrific, and it is fun to see the younger Burt Young, Bruno Kirby (credited as Bruce Kirby Jr.), and especially Dabney Coleman, before their careers blossomed.

A word of warning though: the abysmal Paul Williams score and singing are rivaled only by Richard Baskin's infamous turn in "Welcome to L.A." for sheer auditory torture.

Granted there are some literary devices which are a tad far-fetched that simply have to be accepted to allow this story to work - for one, the cavalier way in which Baggs is treated while his papers are 'lost', and for so long. None the less, this is, in the end an affecting and inspiring tale. Perhaps one of the reasons for its dubious reception here is that in this extremely cynical and selfish age people have difficulty accepting a tale about someone who assumes so much grief in order to help people ("It makes me feel good," says Baggs, simply and disarmingly.) Perhaps the world would be a better place if we could all be more like the guileless Boatswain, played by James Caan in a good-guy departure from his usual tough guy parts.

Of particular note is the fine job Eli Wallach does with the minor part of Baggs' nemesis Forshay. It's a memorable moment when Baggs, asking Forshay, as he is drummed out of the service without benefits or pension, "Where are you going? Home?", hears Forshay reply "THIS was home." The combination of sadness, bitterness, and fear of the future that Wallach puts into these three words is testimony to his power as an actor.

A bit of judicious editing might have been called for, as the movie was a tad long (cutting Paul Williams' execrable songs would have been a good place to start), but none the less it's a feel-good movie that rises above its gritty setting.