| The
Review: |
From the moment attorney Jenny Hudson
(Theresa Russell) looks at client Joe Paris (Burt Reynolds)
and says, "Your ass is in my hands," it's clear that "Physical
Evidence" is going to be one howler of the courtroom thriller.
And boy, does it ever live up to that standard: let's forget
for a moment that the whole framed-cop scenario involving
Joe's being framed for murder is old news. Instead, let's
focus on the fact that nothing about this would-be suspenser
holds our interest at all: be it the laughably bad dialogue,
the truly inept acting, or the outright lack of tension, it's
evident that this is moviemaking at its most strained. ***
As the story unfurls, we learn that
no one likes Joe because he's an unruly, unethical son of
a bitch. When a body is found on the bridge, its throat cut
with a wire, all fingers point to Joe, who doesn't seem too
phased about the prospect of going to prison. Enter Jenny,
who's out to prove to her male co-workers that she can handle
a high-profile case; naturally, she's out to do everything
her way, including parade around in a haze of histrionics
in hopes that during the trial proceedings, the judge will
eventually give in to her incessant whining. ***
The plot is a mish-mash of well-trodden
subplots, close calls, and false alarms, all seen coming from
more than a mile away. The rules tell us that Joe cannot be
guilty, and we know the movie is going to follow these guidelines
when it introduces the infamously lame love interest between
he and Jenny, whose husband serves no purpose in the film
other than to provide more pissing and moaning. The courtroom
theatrics are sloppy and misguided, providing more laughs
than intensity, and the finale lacks any punch, considering
that the front-runners for prime suspect are never really
fleshed out. ***
As an exercise in bad acting, "Physical
Evidence" shines. One wonders what Burt Reynolds ever saw
in such a flat, disinteresting character; his performance
is unconvincing and downright dull. But he is outshone by
the far-worse Theresa Russell, whose outlandish way with the
dialogue and constantly annoying dramatics are absolutely
hilarious throughout the film's entire. Coupled with the rest
of the material, they make Michael Crichton's absurdly unaffecting
thriller the stuff that potential camp classics are made of.
If only...
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| Image
and Sound |
Artisan has chosen to relinquish
the film's theatrical aspect ratio in favor of a fullframe
transfer. As expected, the results are less than stellar.
The overall picture is very fuzzy and muddled, with edges
that retain a soft glow throughout. Color saturation is acceptable
and mostly accurate, with good fleshtones and blacks, while
contrast is generally pleasing but wanting in shadow detail.
There is a great deal of film grain present, and it can be
bothersome at times. Mediocre at best. ***
The sound has been recorded in
Dolby Digital 2.0, and remains equally lackluster. Surrounds
receive almost no attention, nor does the low end. The front
channels get all the action, and even then, there's not much
to marvel over. Dialogue sounds natural, but the score has
almost no depth or range, and channel separation is wanting.
Not very impressive.
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