April 1 2009
Rhinestone
This review is part of Lucid Screening’s 3rd Annual White Elephant Blogathon.
In 1984 Sylvester Stallone decided to break from his typecast macho persona. Ironically the comedy he co-wrote and starred in that year may have only made audiences more appreciative of his action star skills. I imagine there were many sighs of relief upon his return to the patented stoic tough-guy in Rambo: First Blood Part II and Rocky IV. But I must confess to finding his wacky shenanigans in Rhinestone to be a brave and fun departure, however misguided.
Stallone and Dolly Parton share the screen in a lowbrow version of My Fair Lady. She plays it straight as Jake, a country singer bound to a bad contract with a lascivious night club owner. They concoct a high stakes contest where Jake can either win back her freedom or suffer a night in her slimy manager’s bed. Her challenge is to transform the next guy she meets into a talent capable of taming the rowdy hecklers at her nightly gig. Stallone crashes into frame on cue as Nick Martinelli, a cantankerous cabbie with a thick Brooklyn accent who happens to loathe all things country and western.
Most of Rhinestone is as exaggerated as both star’s chests. Everything is drawn in stereotypes: the banjo-picking, stick-whittling cornpones; the worried Italian mama serving heaping portions of lasagna and unsolicited advice; the camera-toting asian tourists; the glitzy, neon-lit New York City cowboy bar. (That last one may be pure invention on the writers’ part, but I wasn’t a New York club-hopper in the 80s so what do I know?) Overshadowing it all — including the leading lady’s sun-eclipsing bosom — is Stallone as a blue collar big city buffoon. He’s hyperactive and clearly having a ball practically bouncing through his scenes.
As you’d expect Sylvester Stallone is not a good singer. He plays up this deficit way beyond comedic effect into a whole new stratosphere. He hops, shakes, blurts and babbles at top volume while banging on whatever unfortunate instrument is on-hand. At first I hid my eyes, reminded of someone’s dorky father crashing his embarrassed kids’ party to show their friends what real rock-n-roll is. Surprisingly, Stallone’s unabashed outbursts quickly became the highlights of the film. They’re so seemingly off the cuff and out of place that the other actors’ astonishment feels completely genuine. The only thing I can compare it to is Nic Cage’s bizarre unbridled performance in Vampire’s Kiss, which I consider to be the pinnacle of his career. Should Stallone ever wish to redefine himself again he could be first choice to play the lead in a Wild Man Fischer bio-pic.
At the other end of the spectrum is Dolly’s straight-laced Jake. For all of her flashy figure-enhancing outfits and suggestive lyrics, she’s actually pretty tame and wooden. Her student gets annoyed with her nagging no-fun disposition for good reason. Even her polite and supportive father thinks she’s a drag. Maybe Parton realized she couldn’t live up to her co-star’s charisma and decided to downplay things for maximum contrast. Granted it’s a family movie but I would have liked for her live up to the attention given by the lusty creeps constantly following her around.
As the title suggests, Rhinestone is an artificial affair of cheap sight gags and unnatural dialog. The plot is thin and never goes anywhere unexpected. The stars play against their reputations in ways that probably make their fans cringe. Yet somehow I found the sum of its parts to be a lot of fun, mostly from Stallone’s goofy and frenzied acting.
