Word: galoots
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...rating on George W. Bush is a nation with a very loose grip on reality. And a man who turns 60 and tells you he never felt better is delusional. He has forgotten how it was when your whole being leaped and bounded, before you turned into a lumbering galoot. Nature is relentless; it programs degeneration into our DNA. Even if you're positive-thinking, hopped up on Viagra, and your face has been lifted and stapled to make you look like a feral woodchuck, nonetheless one day you'll look like something from the lost lagoon and have...
...until 70 or so, you maintain a certain manly sense of yourself (He jumps! He shoots! He scores!), but now, taking a slow postoperative stroll down the hall, heading for the lounge with the jigsaw puzzles, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass door ahead, a shambling galoot in droopy, pee-stained pajamas. (When they pull out the catheter, it takes you a day or two to get your sphincter reset.) This is not a guy whom any woman longs to have sex with; she would be afraid of killing the old bugger. It's hard...
Crane's name was his frame: a gangly galoot and, when he fell for buxom Katrina Van Tassel, an easy prey for the burly lads of Sleepy Hollow. In Burton's revision and Depp's incarnation, Crane is a Manhattan constable sent upriver to solve a murder; predating Poe's Auguste Dupin by several decades, he is America's first detective. He is also a troubled soul, carrying literal scars from childhood and memories that roil his sleep. So handsome, so haunted, he proves irresistible to this Katrina (Christina Ricci). Yet Depp bumbles and stumbles, just like the old Ichabod...
...just spilled liquids incontinently, as though painting were no more demanding than knocking over a cup of coffee or taking a pee. But when you look at these pictures, it isn't so. Pollock was a consummate aesthete. (The fact that he could also be a mean, drunken galoot doesn't gainsay that...
...with the malefactors before he can blow their heads off. This offers plenty of chances for Murphy-style comedy, none of which writer Randy Feldman or director Thomas Carter bothered to exploit. Except for a decent scene in which Roper mimics a white bandit as a test for his galoot partner (Michael Rapaport), there's no room for Eddie to be Eddie. It's as if Carter thought the project was a smooth vehicle that Murphy could simply ride in, when it's really a hunk-a-junk the star needed to transform...