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Mystery, Alaska Review by
Elias Savada
It’s about
time someone slapped David E. Kelley on the side of the head and said “Enough
with the water!” Bear with me a minute. He’s born in Waterville, Maine,
apparently with water on the brain, because he’s fixated on fluid mechanics in
his most recent big screen offerings. Yeah, he’s the king of tv (The
Practice, Ally McBeal), although Snoops
didn’t look too promising in it’s premiere this week. Since this isn’t a
boob tube column, I’ll get back to basic theatrical movie fare -- and this
film aptly fits there, although it could just as easily be a cable tv film
(rated R for language and sexuality) -- and examine the afflicted patient with
his liquid obsession. Lake Placid earlier this year, and now Mystery, Alaska (okay, it’s frozen water). Even in To
Gillian on Her 37th Birthday there’s a lot of seaside action. This latest
hockey opus is standard polar fare, Picket
Fences on ice, so to speak, with Burt Reynolds subbing for Ray Walston as
the judge, and Russell Crowe and Mary McCormack in the Tom Skerritt–Kathy
Baker sheriff husband and his wife roles. Reportedly budgeted at a miniscule $6
million, this far-fetched David and Goliath tale of a “legendary” hockey
team in a town of 633 people getting to meet, greet, and hopefully beat the big,
burly (and imitation) New York Rangers on home ice skates along well enough,
held up by a collection of loony eccentrics with flaming libidos on frigid
terrain, barely powered by Jay Roach, the director of both Austin
Powers films. Pure escapist Northern
Exposure fluff. The postcard-perfect mountains of Alaska frame the
white-bleached skies of Mystery, an Alaskan borough where tradition rules every
Saturday afternoon with must-see, ice cam, nonprofessional action at the pond,
where a dozen or so mostly aging boys are adored by most of the townspeople as
they pass the puck. Elder skatesman and provincial law enforcer John Biebe (a
long-haired, gruffy Crowe doing his impersonation of a lumberjack) is about to
be retired for new high school blood after a 13-year reign, but he’s not going
to take it sitting down (heck, his butt would stick to the ice if he did). After
native son/sports reporter Charles Danner (Hank Azaria, who threw cutlery
earlier this year in the anti-hero dud Mystery
Men) writes up the locals in a three-page Sports Illustrated spread, Mystery goes bonkers when Charles returns
home to broker a potential contest with the men from New York. Turns out that
John’s wife Donna (McCormack) had ditched the writer in 12th grade and sexual
tensions and jealousies compound the situation. Infidelities are everywhere,
actually, involving some of the players, some of their bosses, and some of the
media hyping the show. The latter gets slapped around pretty bad, as the ensuing
circus takes its toll. Don’t worry, everything comes out squeaky clean in the
end. Except for large warehouse discount chains, as the fictitious Price World
sends a snotty, invective-filled representative (Michael McKean) snooping around
the local general store. He ends up wounded and eventually in the court of Judge
Walter Burns (Burt Reynolds), who, as “the voice of reason,” must make
seemingly weighty decisions involving this smaller “us vs. them” battle
pitting the noble townspeople against the “wicked” outside conglomerate. The cast, even when wrapped in proud, quaint shells, is
pretty much swallowed up by locker room dialogue and long stretches of
frosty-breathed boredom on the edge of nowhere. Honorable mentions to Lolita
Davidovitch as the lonesome wife of the self-absorbed mayor (Star
Trek’s Colm Meaney), and Ron Eldard (Deep
Impact, E.R.) as the lady killing Skank “wrong middle vowel” Marden, who
gets a brutal comeuppance at the end of a shovel. Short appearances by Little
Richard, singing the National and Canadian (well, it was filmed in Canada) anthems, and Mike Myers as a television analyst
don’t add much to the show. Unless you’re a hockey fan (and even then, Mystery,
Alaska may lose a few) or read National
Geographic -- Cinematographer Peter Deming (Austin
Powers II, Music of the Heart)
captures the landscapes well -- you’re in for a disappointing, grumpier old Mighty
Ducks. Mystery, Alaska was originally due out earlier this year and now looks like an early October casualty coming as the National Hockey League kicks off its 1999-2000 season. If you have spare tickets to a game in D.C., give me a call, I’m game. I love the sport, honest. But don’t ask me along to watch Mystery, Alaska again. You’ll get called for a penalty, two hours for gross misconduct. David E. Kelley gets one, too -- Off-Sides. Stay with the little screen and don’t pamper us with this frozen formula mush. Contents | Features | Reviews
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