city slickers

Directed by: Ron Underwood

RS: Not Rated Average User Rating: 3.5of 4 Stars

1991 Action

This is low comedy of a high order, the rowdiest western jokefest since Blazing Saddles. Billy Crystal stars as Mitch Robbins, a Manhattan radio-ad salesman with a wife (Patricia Wettig), two kids and a ten-ton midlife crisis brought on by his fortieth birthday. To cheer up Mitch, his two best buddies -- extroverted sporting-goods exec Ed Furillo (Bruno Kirby) and timid grocer Phil Berquist (Daniel Stern) -- take him on vacation to a working dude ranch. Mitch's pals have troubles, too. Ed, who prefers girls so young that he's been accused of "dating sperm," has finally settled down with a walking centerfold, but he fears fatherhood. Phil, who's roused himself to impregnate a store clerk, has lost his domineering wife and his job (her daddy owns the place).

Besides offering an opportunity for male bonding, the vacation teaches these urban neurotics how to ride, rope, shoot and herd cattle, which Mitch calls "the big, moving stink." The boys are slow on the draw but quick with the zingers, thanks to a script by Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel (Splash, Parenthood) that deftly weds screwball comedy with thirtysomething angst. Director Ron Underwood (Tremors) keeps things moving at a swift gallop. And Oscar-winning cinematographer Dean Semler (Dances With Wolves) -- shooting in Colorado and New Mexico -- provides an expansive beauty rare in this kind of nonsense.

Make no mistake, it's a one-joke plot, but that joke allows for exuberant variations; the cast's slap-happy bliss is genuinely infectious. Among the other tenderfoots at the ranch, Josh Mostel and David Paymer stand out as Barry and Ira Shalowitz, ice-cream makers who had to hire models to pose as them in product advertising. "With our faces," says Barry, "could you eat?"

Crystal has never been funnier on-screen. He works on his "roping disability," assists in the birth of a calf and leads a cattle drive by shouting, "Yee-hah!" in imitation of the cowboys in the Howard Hawks classic Red River. Crystal's smartass style finds a perfect foil in the taciturn machismo of veteran movie bad guy Jack Palance, who has an uproarious cameo as Curly, the trail boss. "I crap bigger than you," Curly tells Mitch, who sees the raspy-voiced terror as a "saddle-bag with eyes." Watching this mismatched pair duet to "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" is almost as much fun as Mitch's comment when Curly suffers a coronary: "The man ate bacon at every meal -- you can't do that."

Like a wet-nosed puppy, City Slickers slobbers all over you, begging for attention and love. No cheap trick or tear-jerking sentiment goes untried. Gags don't merely pile up; they stampede. It's hard to imagine a summer comedy better equipped to wear down your resistance.

PETER TRAVERS
RS 607