Mambo Italiano

Noel Vera

If one wanted to summarize "Wisegirls" in a quick sentence, it would
probably be "chick flick in a Mafioso setting." But that quick
dismissal might be a touch unfair; the movie apparently was something
that Mariah Carey wanted to do and that everyone, considering her
popularity, wanted to give her--a chance to do a little character
acting, to earn a little critical respect. Then "Glitter" bombed big-
time, and the interest was gone; the movie ran into distribution
problems, and went straight to DVD. Even the ubiquitous Roger Ebert,
who sees practically everything to be seen (and likes practically
everything he sees), seems to have missed out on this one.

Surprise, surprise--it's actually pretty good. It plays like a
feminine corrective to Martin Scorsese's "Goodfellas" (which was
adapted from a novel Nicholas Pileggi wrote called--you guessed it--
"Wise Guy") or "The Sopranos," as seen from a waitress' point of
view.

Mira Sorvino plays Meg, a troubled young woman who goes to stay with
her grandmother in Staten Island. She finds a job at an Italian
restaurant, finds herself a little over her head with the demanding
work; her two other fellow waitresses, Raychel and Kate (Carey and an
excellent Melora Walters) help steady her. Soon she gets hints and
suggestions that the restaurant isn't just known for its veal
scaloppini--that it is, in fact, the center of operations of a Mafia
drug ring (one of Meg's friends shrugs and asks "what Italian
restaurant in the city doesn't have connections?"--which is a good
point). Soon Sorvino finds herself receiving tips in the hundreds of
dollars for carrying odd little packages, or advising the
restaurant's owner about stomach acidity, or humoring the owner's
polite if rather unnervingly quiet son, or giving emergency mouth-to-
mouth resuscitation to a man whose nose has just been blown off, or
worse…

At the same time, Sorvino finds herself warming up towards her
friends. Since Carey as Raychel isn't asked to carry the film she's
free to relax and cut loose, and she's a wining presence: funny,
sexy, not a little sassy, able to sashay up and down the aisles with
impunity, able to cut down a hapless customer at the knees when he
touches her behind. Melora Walters as Kate is so endearingly klutzy
she catches you off-guard with her surprises--when the girls go to a
nightclub and helpless Walters suddenly punches an abusive male
patron in the face, you can't help but sit up and take notice.

The film turns on Sorvino's Meg, of course. The story unfolds through
her eyes, is filtered through her consciousness, yet she never for a
moment lets you lose your interest in her character, yet she never
for a moment lets you catch her acting. Sorvino hasn't really had a
spectacular career after her Best Supporting Actress Oscar win in
Woody Allen's "Mighty Aphrodite," but she's always been watchable in
the pictures I've caught her in--as the tough-talking forger in the
otherwise dull "Replacement Killers," as the heroine in the flawed
yet visually fascinating "Mimic," she's always performed gracefully
and intelligently in lead and character roles (not for nothing is she
the daughter of Paul Sorvino). Here she takes her cue from the
picture's quiet, patient tone--quietly, patiently building a
multilayered portrait of a troubled young woman, not without smarts
or resources, but definitely way in over her head. She has to
convince you she'd be dumb enough to take the money handed to her,
yet smart enough to be aware of what she's doing--a difficult feat,
but she pulls it off.

Part of the pleasures of the movie are the way it shows us the hassle
and pressure of actually running this kind of establishment--the hard
work, the hectic pace, the long hours, the mixed-up orders, the men
with restless hands (the restaurant being Italian, hands are more
restless than usual). There's tension when a waitress faces down a
customer; you don't know if he's just a jerk, or he's Family. There's
also tension when someone hands you a thick wad of hundred-dollar
bills; you know you need the money, but you don't know just how much
it'll cost you. These girls have to balance efficiency, friendliness,
and an arm's-length attitude towards both customers and bosses, who
are as likely to tip with a hundred-dollar bill as pull a gun on you--
a difficult dance to do well, much less maintain. I also liked the
way the picture handles the less legal side of the operation; you
only get hints and gestures and maybe snatches of conversation, but
the whole thing does come together and make sense, and there's even a
surprise in it or two for the unwary viewer.

David Anspaugh, who directed a good bulk of "Hill Street Blues" (the
rest were mostly by Gregory Hoblit), directs this one with
characteristically low-key realism and skill, trusting story and
character rather than nudity and shoot-outs will carry one's interest
along the way.

That may not sound like much of a compliment; actually, directors of
good TV shows don't always make the translation to the big screen
well. Anspaugh seems to do it by trusting his strengths, his way of
letting an actor's performance speak for himself, and for staging
drama without melodramatic fuss and bother (this quiet strength of
his is abundantly on display in the excellent basketball
film "Hoosiers" with an as-usual Gene Hackman for lead (a movie that
gives Hackman the lead gets extra points for smarts ("The Royal
Tenenbaums," anyone?)) and Dennis Hopper in a lovely little
supporting role (a movie that gives Hopper a lovely supporting role
gets points for smarts AND guts ("Blue Velvet" anyone?)).
In "Wisegirls" Anspaugh combines his gift for street realism and for
character-driven drama to good effect. The script (by John Meadows,
who seems to have done little else other than TV shows) is a touch
too neat, but nicely works out the relationships of the three girls
with each other and with the restaurant. "Wisegirls" is actually
worth watching, if you have a taste for "chick flicks" with maybe a
bit of something more--intelligence, humor, some solid storytelling.

(First printed in Businessworld, March 26, 2004)

(Comments? Email me at noelbotevera@...)