Los Angeles couple Brad (Rory Cochrane) and Lexi (Mary McCormack) start off their day like any other bickering somewhat making coffee for each other. As his wife goes off to her high-paying job out-of-work Brad hears a radio report that says four dirty bombs have gone off around the city. They suggest people tape up their windows and doors as a cloud of gas is circling the city. Brad first gets in his car and tries to find his wife but is turned back by the panicked authorities. So Brad closes off his house along with his unwanted neighbor handyman Alvaro (Tony Perez). Radio reports tell people to keep themselves quarantined and that help will arrive. But when Lexi arrives home coughing and wheezing and insisting she be allowed into her house Brad says "no." Cochrane and McCormack play people we can easily identify with the scared public who have to deal with a horrific nightmare which could become a reality someday. Their disbelief over the reports and their increasing desperation are all very palpable—and oddly enough there's plenty of humor along the way. The frantic voices of family members calling from outside the city get more annoying than soothing and Brad appropriately complains "What do they want us to say?" Cochrane’s Brad transforms from a caring and helpful Everyman to a selfish fearful creep while McCormack’s Lexi changes from a professional and aloof snob to a sympathetic frightened victim. The two are fascinating to watch. With Right at Your Door writer/director Chris Gorak basically asks the question "What would you do?" Previously a production designer and art director for movies like Minority Report Fight Club and Lords of Dogtown Gorak doesn’t use fancy special effects to show any major devastation in the city when the bombs blow up. In fact there's only a big cloud that looks a bit more like an overly-smoggy day. There's also white ash covering everything which is rather ominous because official reports aren’t sure what it is or how toxic it is. Instead Gorak preys on your imagination giving only scant details about jammed freeways and hospitals. The not knowing is so much more frightening.
September 27, 2002 10:25am EST
Ben and JoJo Floss' daughter Diana is gunned down only days before her wedding when she accidentally gets in the way of a violent husband-and-wife dispute at a Cape Anne Mass. restaurant. Her fiancé Joe soon becomes a surrogate member of the Floss family and the three cope with their grief in various ways. JoJo attempts to avoid all the attention that is being paid the family and Ben throws himself--and Joe--into a commercial real estate venture that needs big-time developer Mike's support to succeed. Joe meanwhile combs through big bins of undelivered mail with postmaster Bertie in an effort to retrieve the 75 wedding invitations that had been sent. Bertie who in addition to her postal work also helps out in the local bar owned by her missing-in-'Nam-action beau is also grieving and soon she and Ben are a couple. As writer-director Brad Silberling's gentle drama unfolds it becomes clear that the film is a "hundred-whys" effort. For a start why is the film titled Moonlight Mile a lesser-known Rolling Stones song? It's never explained. And why does the film take place in 1973 when only the film's rollicking soundtrack and a passing reference to the Vietnam War evoke the era? These questions--and the many many other whys in Moonlight Mile--remain unanswered resulting in a film that falls as flat as a bad souffle.
The actors in Moonlight Mile for example are among the choicest of ingredients--three Oscar winners a promising newcomer and an almost legendary comic talent. So why is young Jake Gyllenhaal so bland as the sweet hero-fiancé Joe so opaque and passive suggesting nothing of a background education or professional aspirations? Why did talented Oscar winners Dustin Hoffman and Susan Sarandon agree to star as the parents except for the fact that each actor is given the chance to sink his or her teeth into an 11th hour set piece? Why do Oscar winner Holly Hunter (as the tough prosecuting attorney Mona who warns Joe Ben and JoJo that there's a good chance the perpetrator will get off lightly) and comic virtuoso Dabney Coleman (as gruff real estate developer Mike) squander their talents?
Part of the answer to all the whys Moonlight Mile raises can be found in Silberling's direction. He clearly knows the ingredients Hollywood seems to want these days: nice recognizable characters in emotionally wrenching situations; some resonance of a bygone period; a soundtrack that will help with the marketing; big-name leads and a compelling young star; a dash of unpredictability and feel-good ending. But as Silberling mixes up this all-too-familiar recipe his strokes create a thin watery batter that just refuses to rise above cliché. As a writer he knows the rules but he skirts wit irony humor and convincing raw emotion in favor of the formula raising more questions than he answers.