Mad Dog and Glory

An actual tough structure (Vincent Canby notes this in a rare review) places Uma Thurman in an adorable position, and abstracts Bill Murray and Robert De Niro. The real recipient of the workings is David Caruso, on whom devolves an effective part, for once.

You can play with this all you want, De Niro as a police photographer who wants to be an artist, Murray as a mobster who wants to be a comic. Tightly-reined imaginations, exercises in deadpan, the New York minute stretching on and on. The director is always two seconds or two decades behind his material, but who could resist the fatal combination?

The best of this is the characterizations, De Niro trim in short-sleeved shirt and tie with his pistol on his hip, Thurman lowly and furtive in a consciously-perceived rendering, Murray finally evoking the smells of this semi-sophisticated brute.