MOVIE REVIEW : ‘Cadillac’ Running on Empty

“Cadillac Man” (citywide) splutters briefly to life about two-thirds of its way through, but to sit until that moment, deafened by the movie’s shrillness and embalmed by its humor, is a lot to ask of even the most amiable audience.

Director Roger Donaldson’s strangely inept comedy is set backstage among the high-octane lives of car salesmen, potentially the same kind of rich turf as “Tin Men,” with “Dog Day Afternoon’s” hostage crisis as an added fillip. However, as Ken Friedman’s screenplay now stands, burdened with voice-overs and into-the-camera asides, there’s no zing to its insider view, and absolutely none of “Dog Day’s” perfect-pitch dialogue or character revelation. When you throw in a massively unlikable collection of supporting characters, not even Robin Williams and Tim Robbins on overdrive can salvage this lemon.

Williams’ Joey O’Brien, a man born to wear double-knit, sells cars for the same reason sharks keep swimming--out of primal necessity. Coaxing an indifferent customer behind the wheel of a luxury car at Turgeon Auto, getting him to smell the leather, and “experience” the power, is what keeps Joey alive. He works a little like a shark too: one rich, tooth-baring grin and it’s all over but the paperwork.

That was then. Now is the fact that Joey hasn’t closed a customer in far too long, and when Big Jack Turgeon (Bill Nelson) moves the dealership uptown from its present, seedy corner, Joey isn’t slated to go too, unless he can unload 12 units--i.e., pricey stock--in record time.

Divorced from Tina (Pamela Reed), who knows him only too well, Joey is charting a dodge ‘em course through the shambles of his life, in hock and festooned with women who want to marry him. They include the rich, already-married Joy Munchack (Fran Drescher), owner of the yappiest Pomeranian in Queens, and Lila (Lori Petty), a ditzy costume designer and general fashion victim.

Virtually the only woman without Joey’s fingerprints all over her is the dealership’s luscious secretary, Donna Kosciuski (Annabella Sciorra, the bride from “True Love”), and she’s got problems enough of her own. For unfathomable reasons, she’s having an affair with the boss’ son, “Little Jack” Turgeon (Paul Guilfoyle), deeply dweeby in his pinch-waisted blue blazer and pinkie ring.

All this is set-up for the moment Larry Kosciuski (Tim Robbins) crashes through Big Jack’s plate-glass window on his bike, wracked with--correct--suspicions about Donna’s faithfulness and intermittently shooting his automatic rifle. Truthfully, after the screaming, the stridency and the Pomeranian, the gunfire seems low-key.

Nobly and because at heart he’s actually a sweet guy, Joey takes the rap as Donna’s seducer. Then, in a performance that is like a high-energy parody of all salesmanship, he works to divert Larry from his announced path of murder and suicide.

When Williams and Robbins mesh--Joey babbling suggestions to the goofball Larry, checking his reactions, readjusting his pitch, then rattling on again--the movie develops an almost hypnotic synergy. In all other respects, it lies in shards around the screen.

“Cadillac Man” has the feel of a darker movie made artificially bright, if not garish. It still has the uneasiness that comes with the sight of someone cranked up too high firing a gun--as comic relief. It’s a joke that Larry “only” shoots one cop in the foot and a relief that he didn’t actually kill his wife with another random burst.

With director Donaldson’s fine, early “Smash Palace,” a look at tensions and alliances in the breakup of a marriage, and even to a degree with “No Way Out,” there was the sense of a director with a gift for illuminating feelings roiling beneath the surface. Any such interior glimpses have, unfortunately, been eradicated from “Cadillac Man” (rated R for some salty language and a mild bedroom scene). What’s left is two actors levitating mightily and to no purpose and a wasted supporting cast.