Running 'Em Out Of Business

"I THOUGHT WED GO back to my apartment, pull down the shades, take our clothes off, get under the sheets and see what happens." So remarks nice-guy vigilante Jimmy Lynch (Timothy Hutton) to his would-be girlfriend Danny Boudreau (Kim Cattrall). Unable to agree on the terms of the aforementioned sexual scenario, they compromise on a trip to Shea Stadium to watch the Mets.

Lynch's off-the-wall proposition and Bob Clark's direction are not entirely dissimilar. Both suffer from a glaring lack of sensitivity: Lynch to his eramorata and Clark to his audience. Clark ruins a potentially funny--if somewhat contrived--storyline by attempting to stretch one joke over 45 minutes of air time.

The film features Hutton as a modern-day Robin Hood bent on redeeming the good name and reputation of his brother Terry (Robert Urich). A likeable if marginally nutse firefighter. Terry is injured while combatting a fire during his off-duty hours. Because he was slightly inebriated at the time, the city deprives him of his pension and disability payment, now sorely needed to cover escalating medical bills. Jimmy, whose sole occupation appears to be shooting baskets and slouching around the streets of Brooklyn, takes it upon himself to fight the entire municipal administration.

Jimmy's quest for truth and justice takes him all the way to City Hall, where he is sent packing by tough-guy Mayor Tyler (Robert Culp). Fed up with the insensitivity of yet another elitist bureaucrat, Jimmy embarks on a one-man campaign to discredit Tyler and his administration. Trouble from Jim is the last thing that the Mayor and his tuxedo clad cronies need, already troubled by the departure of a top mayorial aide, accompanied by the city's bank accounts, for Rio.

ADOPTING THE SLOGAN of Tyler's opposition, "Zimmerman flew and Tyler knew," Jimmy proceeds to emblazon it everywhere from the big screen at Shea Stadium to the provebial horse's behind. Each of these public service messages is signed "Turk 1821." Lynch's nom de plume inspired by his brother's nickname and badge number. Clever Jim manages to deface countless subway cars, buses, public monuments, and even Mayor Tyler's own limosine before getting caught.

Although Hutton does succeed in endearing himself to the audience with his basset-hound looks and giggly naivete, he is restricted by Clark's homogenous direction and lack of originality. In addition to boring us with 45 endless minutes of Jimmy plastering his insignia on everything in sight. Clark refuses to let his character develop anything but superficial personalities. Admittedly appealing in a teddy-bearish sort of way. Hutton's Lynch is essentially nothing more than an anti-social wise guy whose highly limited intelligence seriously puts into question his ability to evade detection from the police for as long as he does.

Clark has a field day with Tyler, who ends up looking more like a volleyball instructor from Club Med than like the Mayor of New York City. Replete with Soloflex and cocoa-butter tan, Tyler skips from one social engagement to the next with nary a thought for such inessentials as city business and mayoral responsibilities. Certainly none could object to Jimmy dragging his name though the mud but considering his totally asinine personality, such actions seem unwarranted and excessive.

The film is not entirely devoid of memorable performances. Making a cameo appearance in the role of a tee-shirt is the Crimson itself, later joined by the video screen at Shea Stadium which perform, all sorts of video acrobatics. Considered in the context of the other performances in the film, both the tee-shirt and the big screen are possible Oscar contenders.