ROD'S RATINGS: ***** superior **** excellent *** good ** fair * poor 0 "What's on TV tonight?" STAGEY "HORRORS" IS A SCREEN SCREAM Frank Oz's "Little Shop of Horrors" is a film that knows what it's doing, recreating a successful off-beat, off-Broadway musical with the magic of movies while retaining the ambience of a stage play. This is a remarkable accomplishment rarely witnessed by moviegoers, except in some of the Gene Kelly musicals and the Busby Berkeley films, most of which were literally filmed stage shows. Here, an enormous set, designed by Roy Walker, complete with working elevated train, depicts "Skid Row," a network of damp potholed streets littered with newspapers, alcoholics, prostitutes, alley cats, and bent-up garbage cans. Bring on Ronette, Crystal, and Chiffon, the Skid Row Supremes in pink with sleek black "flips" harmonizing "Downtown," a grimly graphic portrait of down-and- out desperation performed in 60's Motown style. It's a bizarre juxta- position that sets the stage for this horror-comic-book style movie about a man-eating plant. The plant is a character named "Audrey II" by his keeper, Seymour, after his own girl, Audrey. With Muppet-master Frank Oz (the voice of Miss Piggy) in charge, Audrey II steals the show. Starting out as a sprout with puckering little lips, Audrey II grows up into a roaring ravenous monster who sings. The Lyle Conway Audrey II is a high-water mark in animatronics. Imagine the smooth- ness and refinement of movement of the dragon in "Dragonslayer" applied to a grotesquely colorful giant potted plant whose most obvious feature is its huge mouth that sings. Add the voice of Levi Stubbs, a member of the original Four Tops, and you have one of the most astounding special effects ever in movies. Stubbs' singing is rich and his vocal characterization brings Audrey II to more than life, to a surreal level of vitality. You could go for the plant alone, but "Horrors" has even more to offer. Ellen Green and Rick Moranis as Audrey and Seymour carry the boy-meets-plant/ boy-gets-girl/boy-loses-plant plot as perfect parodies of the vapid 50's horror-movie types whose kitschy values remind us of that era's triumphs in bad taste. Steve Martin takes over his supporting scenes as the sadistic dentist, Doctor Scrivello, Audrey's leather-clad "leader of the plaque" boyfriend who keeps her in stitches, literally. Rounding out the constellation of comic talents are cameo scenes by Bill Murray, John Candy, Christopher Guest, and James Belushi for a variety show of shtick. Despite considerable rewriting of the stage show, including screenplay, music, and lyrics, the fundamental campiness of the comedy may have made Oz's stage play interpretation invevi- table. (Ironically, the stage show is based on a made-in-a-weekend horror movie.) Whatever the reason, this concept is the nuclear force that binds an atomic mixture of talent and technology to create a surprisingly wonderful film. (****) "RADIO DAYS" COMES THROUGH LOUD AND CLEAR Woody Allen has written and direct- ed fifteen films in his career. In them, he's played every conceivable role, from a Russian revolutionary to a sperm cell to himself. People used to talk about a Woody Allen "style," as if there were a genre, the "Woody Allen movie," like the "Star Wars" movies or the Stallone movies. But no more. Woody Allen's style keeps unfolding with an originality that defies the easy Hollywood categories. Currently, his most recent work, "Radio Days," pairs with last year's "Hannah and Her Sisters" as memoir/ family pieces based on the era of his youth. Comparison with Neil Simon's "Brighton Beach Memoirs" is inevitable under the rubric of "memoir movies by successful comedy writers." But there the comparison ends, as Simon, lacking either the depth or the courage to experiment, reaches for his one-liners to carry the scenes that cannot stand on their own. For my money, Federico Fellini's "Amarcord" is a closer match with the charm and authenticity of "Radio Days." Instead of the bucolic Italian countryside of the Fellini film, Allen's rosey remembrance centers on the tawdry Jewish middle-class environment of Far Rockaway, New York. Here in the 30's, the radio airwaves net the city and knit together parents and children, teachers and students, rich and would-be rich in its imagi- nary world where listeners dream a common dream of daring, passion, glamour, and wealth. Allen, who narrates the film but is represented on screen only by his ten-year-old alter ego "Joe" (Seth Green), intro- duces "Radio Days" as his own collec- tion of radio stories, which it is; but don't be fooled by this oversim- plified description. Whether it's an anecdote about Joe's obsession with owning a Masked Avenger ring or a romance stymied by Orson Welles' Mercury Theater broadcast of "The War of the Worlds," Allen is coloring in a portrait of the real ways in which radio once influenced life in America. Because it was truly new to naive ears, radio became the mirror of our most intimate hopes and fears. As intelligent as this movie is, its greatest strengths are the detail, warmth, and humor that tune into the universal human experience. The settings, with their infinite kitschi- ness, are lovingly recreated: the gray grimy streets of Rockaway, the tawdry bric-a-brac and frumpy furniture of the family living room, even the glittering neon-swept rooftop of the uptown hotel nightclub. Every scene is richly textured with detail and peopled with men in baggy suits and women in tacky print dresses and plastic jewelry. The authenticity doesn't stop there, but continues with every per- formance on the screen. This is one of those movies where it's hard to imagine the performers are not real people playing themselves, so it's difficult to highlight an outstanding performance. Mia Farrow as the ciga- rette girl who makes good continues to display a strong range of dramatic and comic talents. Dianne Wiest as the hopeful maiden Aunt Bea and Julie Kavner as the Mother create touchingly recognizable characters. But truly, this is a film of which the entire cast can be proud; and for this reason there are no stars. Does "Radio Days" establish Woody Allen as the new American Fellini? Yes, but given Allen's penchant for new directions, it would be a mistake to categorize him as such. Who knows what this wonderfully creative film- maker will think of next? Only the Shadow knows! (****) DANGLING PLOT SNARES "BLACK WIDOW" As the title suggests, "Black Widow" is a feminine thriller, a tale of two women locked in a deadly game of cat and cat. Debra Winger is Alex Barnes, an overworked federal agent who discovers some peculiar similari- ties in the deaths of several wealthy men and gets on the trail of a sinis- ter quarry. Theresa Russell is Catharine, the beautiful black widow, the woman who loves and kills. To- gether, they weave a web of intrigue which entangles them both as Catharine stalks her next victim and Alex stalks her. The two women meet and become friends, each performing a deadly dance as lover and nemesis to the other. The resolution is a surprise, but, alas, a disappointment. Bob Rafelson ("Five Easy Pieces," "The Postman Always Rings Twice") directs the film with the skill of a hand experienced with the thriller genre. He moves the narrative with strong editing and establishes the unsettling mood of mystery with lighting and texture. Add to this the colorful Hawaiian scenery and some excellent sound design, and the result is a sensually appealing experience. But ironicallly the direction and editing are also the film's undoing in the end, as major chunks of plot are lobotomized in favor of unreal demands on audience credibility. This clumsiness comes as such a surprise in an otherwise elegant movie that we wonder if there were not another movie here, or perhaps another script that has gone under the cen- sor's knife. The homoerotic under- tones in the relationship between the two women suggests an emotional attachment that, were it fully developed, would add a provocative complication. Is mannish Alex falling in love with man-killer Catharine? Or is this part of her plan to get close to her suspect? The suggestion is there, but without development, this unusual twist is left hanging, another strand of the plot that goes nowhere. In its place, an awkward "sting" is offered as a glaringly inept substi- tute that reduces a good movie to a mediocre television cops-and-robbers episode - "Hawaii Fem-O." The women are good, too. Theresa Russell is lovely, smooth, and icily vicious, concealing a stygian under- current of misanthropy and murder. Does she love the men she kills? Or can she only love another woman? It takes courage for Debra Winger to per- form the widow's foil as a puffy and pasty civil servant, but she pulls it off. This is a stretch for Winger, who could as easily have played Catharine herself. Much of the script deals with the psychology of the two women - another clue that there might have been more to the original script than what we see on the screen. Alex's obsession with the case, her attempts to get inside the murderess' mind, her attraction to Catharine - all are woven into Winger's capable performance. But it's depth to no purpose as the movie opts for cheap tricks over real psychological conflict. As it is, the web of "Black Widow" is weakly woven and falls apart with the slightest critical touch. (**) SHORT TAKES "Critical Condition" Richard Pryor looks in need of intensive care in this mindless emer- gency room atrocity that all involved seem to be making up as they go along. Its doctor-in-spite-of-himself premise is at least a couple of thousand years old, and nothing new has been added. "Critical Condition" is D.O.A. (0) "From the Hip" Ferris Beuhler meets "The Verdict" in this courtroom comedy about a young hotshot lawyer and his psychopathic client. The movie starts off strong, but loses steam as it strains to be both an outrageous send-up and a serious look at legal ethics. John Hurt is chilling as the psychopath. (**) "Mosquito Coast" Harrison Ford creates his most original role as the lovable but dangerously obsessed inventor/genius who leads his family off to a Caribbean jungle to establish his own utopia. River Phoenix captures our sympathies as the barely adolescent son (and narrator) who must decide whether to follow his well-meaning father to certain disaster or save the family by deserting him. Some really dumb scenes of Hollywood-type spectacle stretch credibility beyond the limits in a movie that would be better if it focused more on the son's very real and touching dilemma. (***) (ROD DOWNEY is a playwright, novelist, and film critic.)
