INTO THE NIGHT. Directed by John Landis; written by Ron Koslow; produced by George Folsey, Jr. and Ron Koslow for Universal. Starring Jeff Goldblum and Michelle Pfeiffer. Rated R (violence, nudity and language).
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Lots of movies have both their good and bad points. But rarely have the good parts been as entertaining, and the gross-outs a offensive, as in Into the Night.
If your tolerance for gratuitous violence is pretty high, you can watch the movie and enjoy its zany comedy. Otherwise, I wouldn't recommend it.
Ed (Goldblum) is suffering from a severe case of the blahs. He's so out of it he can't sleep, except through meetings at work. One sleepless night he heads for the airport, presumably to take a friend's advice and spend the night in Las Vegas. But he hasn't even gotten out of his car when Diana (Pfeiffer) bounds onto the hood and begs for his help in eluding a gang of thugs.
One thing leads to another, with Diana continually asking him to stay with her "just a little longer," until he's as deeply involved in the dangerous story as she is.
Comic but bloodthirsty Iranians and sinister Europeans are all after the pair and the jewels Diana's carrying. Were it not for the dry wit which surfaces in the most unexpected places, the plot would be nightmarish. As it is, the frenetic pace sweeps us along, not allowing us any time to question the basic silliness of the whole affair.
On the plus side of an imaginary Into the Night ledger are some truly hilarious send-ups. In addition to the overly-convoluted thriller plot, the movie has fun with made-for T.V. movies, Elvis impersonators. and swat-team shoot-outs. Its best humor is satire, most of it subtle and unobtrusive.
The movie's slapstick, however, brings us to the debit side of the ledger, because of the violence. Violence is a part of most comedy, if only a simple slip on a banana peel. But even the blackest of black humor has to acknowledge some limits to its darker side, if it's still going to be funny as well.
For my tastes, Into the Night goes right to the edge of these limits several times, and steps over at least once. Pairing humorous scenes with suddenly serious ones can be effective. But when the gore, sadism and brutality get out of hand in a supposedly comic situation, the comedy is the loser.
Back to credits, however. The main stars are excellent. Goldblum is delightfully spacey, even though his character is supposed to be an ordinary guy. Pfeiffer is dazzling as Diana, amateur jewel smuggler and focus of all the mayhem. She is innocent and sexy, streetwise and vulnerable, by turns. Her character has to be irresistible, to make Ed's continuing involvement at all believable. And she is.
Into the Night elevates the art of the cameo appearance to new heights, and gives it a new twist in the process. There are what seem like dozens of familiar and half-familiar faces, from David Bowie to Irene Papas.
But the twist comes from using even more directors than actors in these parts. Landis himself has a role as one of the Iranian thugs/Keystone cops. (He's the one who doesn't quite look Iranian.) The ordinary moviegoer could be reasonably expected to recognize only one of these directors, though. (That's Jim Henson—yes, of the Muppets.) So watch the closing credits carefully.
Clever as it is, however, Into the Night 's excessive violence overshadows the wit. Not all the violent scenes are gratuitous, but most of them are. Some are merely unnecessary, while others (such as the drowning of one of Diana's friends) are downright offensive.
Giving Into the Night and Witness the same R rating makes the system almost meaningless. Even conservative viewers would have to work to be offended by the latter. And I consider myself pretty permissive about such things, but I still was grossed out by several scenes in the former.
Too bad its inventive comedy had to lose so many battles with its darker impulses.
March 13, 1985