Matthew Lickona 2:57 p.m., May 17
No Small Affair
A sixteen-year-old aspiring photographer, with an Ansel Adams-ish bias toward the pristine and the peopleless, shoos an early-twenties aspiring pop singer out of one of his immaculate black-and-white frames. (In stark contrast to the sizzling colors of cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond.) Only later, in his darkroom, with a blow-up of the woman's face at the edge of one of his prints, does he realize his mistake. And la chasse is on. The boy, John Cryer, seems to aspire to be, besides a photographer, the next Walter Matthau, with a dry, wry delivery and ninety percent of the good lines. (The hoarse-voiced Demi Moore sets her sights a little lower, as if she wanted to be, or felt confident she already was, the next Lynda Carter.) But despite his precociousness as a wit, Cryer retains a teenage goofiness that makes all the more impressive his frequent subtleties of performance: e.g., his nicely underplayed drunk scene as an uninvited guest at a wedding reception. Directed by Jerry Schatzberg. 1984.
— Duncan Shepherd
- Rated R