‘Johnny Skidmarks’ Another Intriguing Role For Peter Gallagher

Ever since Jonathan Schaech came on the scene (he was the arrogant lead singer in “That Thing You Do”), Peter Gallagher has become redundant.

To some eyes, the two could be twins. The problem for Gallagher is that Schaech is younger and therefore, as naturally happens, deemed hipper.

Even so, speaking of being hip, Gallagher has done more than a few interesting independent films over the years, from “sex, lies and videotape” to “The Underneath” (both directed by Steven Soderbergh). In the pointedly atmospheric “Johnny Skidmarks,” which is now available on video, Gallagher continues with the trend.

In the film, which was written and directed by John Raffo, Gallagher plays a photographer who specializes in shooting crime scenes for the police. The more violent, the less it affects Johnny (his last name actually is Johnny Scardino).

See, Johnny has the unique ability to turn off his feelings. Cool as a Dairy Queen special, he’s fazed by nothing. But this isn’t necessarily a good thing.

It means only that something is dead about Johnny, a situation that makes it easy for him to make a little money on the side as part of a ring of blackmailers.

Yet this emotional vacuity is a drawback for a couple of reasons. One, it makes it hard for Johnny to connect with anyone for romantic purposes (enter Frances McDormand). Two, it makes it hard for him to figure out why someone is killing off his fellow blackmailers.

“Johnny Skidmarks” is a strange little concoction. It features a particularly unglamorous McDormand in a stretch as an object of romance and John Lithgow doing his typical over-the-top thing as a police sergeant (remember the days of “The World According to Garp” and “Terms of Endearment” when Lithgow knew the meaning of subtle?).

Much of the film takes place at night and features minimalist dialogue that would make Raymond Carver look like James Joyce.

Still, it has its moments. Most of them involve Schaech … uh, check that, Gallagher.

Whatever.

Johnny Skidmarks

**-1/2

Rated R

At the movies: a comment

If you look at this week’s movie ads, you’ll notice that the possibility I mentioned in the Nov. 13 Weekend has become reality: The Lincoln Heights Cinemas has gone back to showing first-run films.

Which means no more exclusive art and foreign offerings.

This isn’t completely bad. I can still remember the days when lines at the Lincoln Heights matched those you now see on a regular basis at the Spokane Valley 12. And now with films such as “Enemy of the State” and “Rugrats” playing there, South Hill filmgoers of all ages will be better served.

And yet … this means that the city’s only outlet for art/foreign film is, again, the Magic Lantern. But this isn’t even the old Magic Lantern. This is a combination pub/restaurant/theater that caters to those 21 and over.

Which means that any Spokane resident younger than 21 is shut out of seeing anything other than mainstream movie fare. Their only choice now is video.

And this is a shame.

The question is: Who do we blame?

The owners of the Lincoln Heights, ACT III Theatres and now Regal Cinemas, or the area residents who will happily attend the symphony, the opera and live theater but who won’t spend $3.75 to see a film that has played to packed houses in Cannes, Toronto, Venice and New York?

I’m not sure there’s a correct answer. Anyway, this is Spokane. Does anybody really care?

The week’s major releases:

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas **-1/2

Johnny Depp portrays gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson in this Terry Gilliam adaptation of Hunter’s best-selling book about his drug-addled alter-ego - Raoul Duke - covering both a motorcycle race and a convention of district attorneys. Despite his reputation as a wild man, a reputation that he embraced and that helped make him into a kind of counter-culture guru of journalism, Thompson has written on occasion with a serious purpose. The problem with Gilliam’s movie, despite daringly eccentric performances by Depp and Benicio del Toro, is that he shies away from anything remotely serious. When it comes time to make a point about the loss of ‘60s-style dreaming through drugs and pointless hedonism, he sticks with visual indulgence. Rated R

Can’t Hardly Wait **

Back when John Hughes was still making films that were more than the live-action cartoons he has specialized in lately, he was responsible for making some of the most sensitive, funny and perceptive teen films ever. Remember “Sixteen Candles”? Remember “The Breakfast Club”? This film, which is little more than a Jennifer Love Hewitt vehicle, is a pale reflection of early Hughes. It involves graduation night and the party that will bring together the disparate characters from one high-school class - the nerd (Charlie Korsmo), the arrogant jock (Peter Facinelli) and the class beauty he’s just dumped (Hewitt), the geek who pines for the beauty (Ethan Embry), the gangsta-wannabe white boy (Seth Green) and the fringe grrrl (Lauren Ambrose) he ends up seeing with new eyes. Too bad co-writer/directors Harry Elfont and Deborah Kaplan didn’t feel the need to carry any of these portrayals much past stereotype. Rated PG-13