Went to see
Modus Operandi tonight on the second night of the
inaugural
Milwaukee Film Festival. The screening was held at the
Oriental Theater, the last remaining local movie emporium. The
cavernous theater has been converted into a two-plex, but they
have retained the ornate rococo charm of the main auditorium
which is chocked full of "oriental" kitsch - including a trio of
Buddhas, each in its own illuminated cove, on either side of the
theater and, oddly, several replicas of the mechanical woman from
Fritz Lang's
Metropolis.
Modus Operandi was sold as "Sexy women, CIA agents, spies,
villains and femme fatales populate this blaxploitation-meets-art-
house story of revenge, which follows a retired C.I.A. agent deter-
mined to find his wife's murderer." Which is all true, but the whole
enterprise is so ineptly and indulgently executed that it is truly
painful to watch.
The only thing worse than the writing,directing and editing (all
by Frankie Latina, a jack of all trades and the master of none) is
the acting.
(Mr. Latina was in the theater to introduce the movie and to bask
in pre-movie applause. One of us had presence of mind to be
embarrassed, afterwards).
Watching
Modus Operandi is like watching one of Andy Sedaris'
randomly brutal bikini movies without the former Playboy
Playmates - or the production values.
Watching
Modus Operandi is like watching one of Russ Meyer's
aimlessly messy non-sequitor movies - without the bodacious ta-tas
(you can forgive a lot with bodacious ta-tas - witness the whole Pam
Grier oeuvre).
In other words,
Modus Operandi has nothing to recommend it. Not
even the great
Danny Trejo who is given precious little to do before
ending the movie by taking out a bad guy with a corkscrew to the
eye. By the time the interminable 77 minute movie ended, I wanted
to corkscrew my eyes out, too.
~(no) rave!
