MOVIE REVIEW : Forsyth, Sayles, Reynolds Team in ‘Breaking In’

The pairing of director Bill Forsyth and John Sayles, this time as a screenwriter, to create the delightful “Breaking In” (opening Friday at selected theaters) seems so felicitous you wonder that it didn’t happen sooner. These are both men who know when to leave well-enough alone and when the smallest grace note will set a scene tingling.

The same might be said for Burt Reynolds and Casey Siemaszko, whose pairing as the steady old hand and the decidedly shaky new one sets the precise tone for this smart, affectionate comedy about chemistry and larceny.

Dapper Ernie (Reynolds), a man for whom the action-back golf shirt was invented, is careful about his appearance, his habits and the impression he leaves behind. With his very slight limp and his handsome silver hair and mustache, he might be a Portland high school principal, although his business card says “Ernest Mullins, Sculptor.” What’s it supposed to say: “Ernest Mullins, Safecracker”?

Ringleted Mike (Siemaszko), the goof-off at Bob’s Tire and Body Shop, is half bouncing ball, half Labrador puppy. You’d swear his tongue was hanging out as he panted; the only thing Mike is likely to leave behind is a banana peel, with predictable results. Ernie calls him a wacko and Ernie is rarely ever wrong.

They are both set to become partners in the serious business of safecracking. With the care that he would use to case a job, Ernie sizes up the goofy Mike and thinks just maybe there’s the making of a working relationship there, since he has recently lost his longtime partner, Red. For his part, once he really believes that Ernie’s true calling is as a master of “grease” (i.e., nitroglycerin), Mike is giddy with the prospect. You half expect him to get cards printed too, but you shudder to think what they’d say.

“Breaking In” is decidedly minor-key, done on the notes between the solid, expected chords. Like everything Forsyth has put his hand to, but especially “Local Hero” and “Comfort and Joy,” the humor as well as the character development is cumulative. Forsyth is in no hurry to crank up the voltage; he’s assured enough to let the observations pile up until the audience does his work for him, chortling when they can foresee a reaction because they understand the characters so well.

And Sayles has given him gorgeous characters. Ernie’s two poker cronies, for example: Shoes (Harry Carey, who has at last abandoned the Jr. at the end of his name) and Johnny Scat (Albert Salmi), who set their considerable experience to coming up with the right moniker for Mike. The Artichoke Kid would be a natural, given Mike’s home town of Castroville, but there was an Artichoke Kid, so of course that would be disrespectful. The Tire and Body Shop does it: Mike is hereafter the Firestone Kid, and he’s as pleased as a general who’s gotten his fourth star to be so called. (The payoff on this little gag is delayed and de-lovely.)

There are also the ladies whom Ernie brings into their relatively sedate lives. You and I and your smart 10-year-old know these are ladies of the evening. Mike thinks that big-eyed Carrie (Sheila Kelley) has a thing for him. What he makes of Delphine (Lorraine Toussaint), Ernie’s statuesque regular, the good Lord alone can fathom.

But even after Mike learns the truth, that Carrie is neither an actress nor a musician--the impression he got when she explained gravely that her acting is “Not at performance level yet--I’m still developing my instrument”--he finds her irresistible. That’s pretty much our reaction too, since Kelley (seen so far as the artistic one of the three beautiful young sisters in “Some Girls”) seems not to be troubled that the warmhearted hooker is the oldest role playable, and chooses to make it divinely hers. As Carrie, Kelley is earnest, impulsive, dizzyingly eager to please and deliriously funny. And she may certainly be in demand for poetry readings, if her delivery of Carrie’s ode “What Would I Do?” is any indication. (It and other language and mores are the reason for the film’s R rating.)

Forsyth must have finished the film with callouses from reining Reynolds in instead of pushing him down the path of broad reactions and least resistance that far too many directors have encouraged in recent years. And both actor and director should be elated at the result. It is a superb job, the equal to Ernie’s deftness with the “grease,” not an ounce wasted, not an excess motion, with the most satisfying pop to cap things off. To hear Reynolds’ comic timing when it’s being calibrated to a minisecond is an absolute joy, and there are more than one of those moments lurking here.

Siemaszko, whose forte is unpredictability and a certain irrepressible energy (and whose name is pronounced Sheh-mash-ko), gives absolutely full measure as Reynold’s sparring partner. Besides, there’s always the danger that Mike will be a little more of the wacko than even Ernie expects. It gives this luxuriously civilized movie its edge.

‘BREAKING IN’

A Samuel Goldwyn Co. release. Producer Harry Gittes. Executive producers Andrew Meyer, Sarah Ryan Black. Director Bill Forsyth. Screenplay John Sayles. Camera Michael Coulter. Editor Michael Ellis. Production design Adrienne Atkinson, John Willett. Executive in charge of production Mark E. Pollack. Music Michael Gibbs. Costumes Louise Frogley. Sound Les Lupin. With Burt Reynolds, Casey Siemaszko, Sheila Kelley, Lorraine Toussaint, Albert Salmi, Harry Carey, Maury Chaykin, Steve Tobolowsky.

Running time: 1 hour, 31 minutes.

MPAA-rated: R (younger than 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian).