This is a hard movie to interpret. Not the story, but the intended message, because surely there is one.
The story is straightforward enough. Ruth Stoops (Laura Dern)is a drug-abusing, loud-mouthed, selfish girl who has had a couple of illegitimate kids and is now pregnant again. She's been in and out of jail and rehab programs so often she can't remember how many times. Now she's picked up for sniffing glue again and the court puts her back in the slams and advises her, strongly, to abort this new child.
But she is bailed out by a devout working-class family (Kurtwood Smith, Mary Kay Place) who want to save her and her baby. They're sincere enough. They have a tough time scraping together the $400 bail. The home they take her to is a stifling nest of conventional religiosity and hypocrisy. They don't smoke, don't drink, don't swear, say grace before each meal, and their teen-age daughter sneaks out at night to get drunk and party. And hubby can't stop himself from eying Dern's nubile figure when she's careless with her garb. ("You know, I used to be quite a sinner," he tells her while they lie side by side in his old bed.) The family introduce her to a "counseling agency" who do their best to talk her into saving her baby. The medical staff congratulate her on her pregnancy and show her a doll about the size of the fetus she's now carrying. ("It's even got a little thing on it," she says. "Sure, because it's a boy doll!") They show her a movie of dead, aborted children, which compares abortion to Buchenwald and Auschwitz, and she winds up changing her mind. "Gee, I slept on dumpsters. Maybe I slept on some babies." But she's spirited away by a pro-abortion spy (Swoozie Kurtz) who has been undercover in The Baby Savers movement, and she's taken home to be brainwashed by Kurtz and her girlfriend, who apparently worship Selene, the moon, because they keen a kind of folk song at the night sky. They massage the acupuncture points in her bare feet while they propagandize her and Dern loves it. "Do my spleen again." So she decides to abort.
But then The Baby Savers come up with a $15,000 check if she decides to save the baby. So she decides to have the baby. And then a Vietnam vet among the pro-choicers matches the reward, so she decides to abort. By this time the issue has become nation-wide and has drawn in the leader of the Baby Savers, Burt Reynolds, who ups the ante to $27,000 if Dern will save the baby. So she decides to save the baby. (During all this, she's been swilling and sniffing everything in sight.) I won't give away the ending except to say that Ruth steals some money and makes off with it before anyone notices. Final shot: Dern marching off alone into the distance, accompanied by a triumphant theme, strong-willed, street savvy, a bag full of cash slung over her determined shoulder, still lacking in the frontal lobes that might allow her to plan for a future.
It's a satirical look at the abortion debate, and more black than comedic, although it has its laugh lines. Nobody comes off at all well, except maybe the Vietnam amputee who sees through Ruth and offers his $15,000 anyway. That is, she's been planning on how she might spend the windfall. She'll make a down payment on a new house, then buy a new car, then maybe travel to Europe. The vet listens to this then tells her it's baloney, that both of them know the $15,000 will last her about three days.
The cast is littered with familiar names, none of whom do an outstanding job but all of whom are competent enough. As a stimulus-hungry, self-destructive, mentally challenged teen-ager, Laura Dern is an attractive and sexy young woman but not a teen-ager. Burt Reynolds brings his usual role distance to the job. He proudly introduces the first boy he ever saved by adopting, the boy who's now about fifteen, the boy who fetches the ice for Reynolds' drinks, the boy who now massages Reynolds' tanned and muscular shoulders on command.
But where is the movie headed? I was all in favor of the pro-abortionist lesbians but I don't think that's what was intended. Most black comedies at least give you someone to root for, even if he's not victorious. "Dr. Strangelove" was a black comedy, too, but President Merkin Muffley at least was sane and rational. Here, the Vietnam vet's role is far too minor for us to identify with him in any way. This reminds me more of Tom Wolf's "Bonfire of the Vanities." Everybody in it is stupid and/or rotten. And the intentions of the producers is ambiguous, along the lines of one of Randy Newman's songs -- "I Love L.A." or "Short People". Is Newman really defiantly saying he loves Los Angeles, or is he kidding? Maybe the message is that of the Buddha, who was a very practical man. All things in moderation. Avoid zealotry. An excess of passion always leads to disappointment and pain in one form or another.
The story is straightforward enough. Ruth Stoops (Laura Dern)is a drug-abusing, loud-mouthed, selfish girl who has had a couple of illegitimate kids and is now pregnant again. She's been in and out of jail and rehab programs so often she can't remember how many times. Now she's picked up for sniffing glue again and the court puts her back in the slams and advises her, strongly, to abort this new child.
But she is bailed out by a devout working-class family (Kurtwood Smith, Mary Kay Place) who want to save her and her baby. They're sincere enough. They have a tough time scraping together the $400 bail. The home they take her to is a stifling nest of conventional religiosity and hypocrisy. They don't smoke, don't drink, don't swear, say grace before each meal, and their teen-age daughter sneaks out at night to get drunk and party. And hubby can't stop himself from eying Dern's nubile figure when she's careless with her garb. ("You know, I used to be quite a sinner," he tells her while they lie side by side in his old bed.) The family introduce her to a "counseling agency" who do their best to talk her into saving her baby. The medical staff congratulate her on her pregnancy and show her a doll about the size of the fetus she's now carrying. ("It's even got a little thing on it," she says. "Sure, because it's a boy doll!") They show her a movie of dead, aborted children, which compares abortion to Buchenwald and Auschwitz, and she winds up changing her mind. "Gee, I slept on dumpsters. Maybe I slept on some babies." But she's spirited away by a pro-abortion spy (Swoozie Kurtz) who has been undercover in The Baby Savers movement, and she's taken home to be brainwashed by Kurtz and her girlfriend, who apparently worship Selene, the moon, because they keen a kind of folk song at the night sky. They massage the acupuncture points in her bare feet while they propagandize her and Dern loves it. "Do my spleen again." So she decides to abort.
But then The Baby Savers come up with a $15,000 check if she decides to save the baby. So she decides to have the baby. And then a Vietnam vet among the pro-choicers matches the reward, so she decides to abort. By this time the issue has become nation-wide and has drawn in the leader of the Baby Savers, Burt Reynolds, who ups the ante to $27,000 if Dern will save the baby. So she decides to save the baby. (During all this, she's been swilling and sniffing everything in sight.) I won't give away the ending except to say that Ruth steals some money and makes off with it before anyone notices. Final shot: Dern marching off alone into the distance, accompanied by a triumphant theme, strong-willed, street savvy, a bag full of cash slung over her determined shoulder, still lacking in the frontal lobes that might allow her to plan for a future.
It's a satirical look at the abortion debate, and more black than comedic, although it has its laugh lines. Nobody comes off at all well, except maybe the Vietnam amputee who sees through Ruth and offers his $15,000 anyway. That is, she's been planning on how she might spend the windfall. She'll make a down payment on a new house, then buy a new car, then maybe travel to Europe. The vet listens to this then tells her it's baloney, that both of them know the $15,000 will last her about three days.
The cast is littered with familiar names, none of whom do an outstanding job but all of whom are competent enough. As a stimulus-hungry, self-destructive, mentally challenged teen-ager, Laura Dern is an attractive and sexy young woman but not a teen-ager. Burt Reynolds brings his usual role distance to the job. He proudly introduces the first boy he ever saved by adopting, the boy who's now about fifteen, the boy who fetches the ice for Reynolds' drinks, the boy who now massages Reynolds' tanned and muscular shoulders on command.
But where is the movie headed? I was all in favor of the pro-abortionist lesbians but I don't think that's what was intended. Most black comedies at least give you someone to root for, even if he's not victorious. "Dr. Strangelove" was a black comedy, too, but President Merkin Muffley at least was sane and rational. Here, the Vietnam vet's role is far too minor for us to identify with him in any way. This reminds me more of Tom Wolf's "Bonfire of the Vanities." Everybody in it is stupid and/or rotten. And the intentions of the producers is ambiguous, along the lines of one of Randy Newman's songs -- "I Love L.A." or "Short People". Is Newman really defiantly saying he loves Los Angeles, or is he kidding? Maybe the message is that of the Buddha, who was a very practical man. All things in moderation. Avoid zealotry. An excess of passion always leads to disappointment and pain in one form or another.