Directed by Martin Scorsese
Written by Paul Schrader, based on the novel by Joe Connolly
Starring Nicholas Cage, Patricia Arquette, Ving Rhames, Tom Sizemore, Marc Anthony
My Advice: Wait for Cable.
Emergency Medical Technician Frank (Cage) is having a bad week, at the bare minimum. It's not enough that he can't seem to get himself fired, to take a sick day, or even to escape the series of maniacal partners he seems to have on the job. He's also saddled with the memory of all the patients he's lost, and he can't seem to escape them--and it's making him come completely and utterly unraveled.
This film wants to be a gritty urban drama, a dark comedy, a skewed love story, a medical drama, a ghost story, and a tale of drug abuse and its consequences. Unfortunately, it's not a strong enough film to tackle all of these ideas at once, so it should have picked one and stuck with it--instead it weaves all over the place like Sizemore's manic EMT character driving an ambulance at breakneck speed. Subplots are touched upon and then never go anywhere--a new designer drug called "Red Death" has just hit the streets, and ooooh, it's hardcore. But does this ever go anywhere? No, it just is a convenient excuse to provide many of the victims that Cage and company encounter. It's almost as if somebody didn't feel like doing any research into the medical field to come up with any other good reasons for people falling over.
Then there's the love story. I pray to God Arquette and Cage's relationship is more exciting in real life--because it's boring as high hell here. Perhaps it was the intention of all involved to have them be completely drained of any interesting qualities just like their faces are drained of color. But it didn't work for me.
Now we have the ghost story. Cage is haunted by Rose, a young homeless girl he couldn't save. But this, just like the drug subplot, goes absolutely nowhere. Instead it wanders around in a circle until it slouches toward its ham-handed resolution. The medical drama never feels like it has any focus at all, except for snatches of Mary Beth Hurt admonishing drug users and alcoholics to fall down somewhere else.
The plot which feels like it would have worked the best is the dark comedy, since that seems to be responsible for patches of some interesting dialogue. The pinnacle of the film is Ving Rhames, and the scene where his evangelical character brings an overdosed teen back to life in the middle of a club is absolutely priceless. But these bits of fun are few and far between, and can't carry the film. What's left to hold up this malformed shambling thing is a decent soundtrack, at least thirty minutes' footage of people walking down sidewalks, and cameras filming sideways and stuff. Whoopee. Rent it on DVD, go straight to the scenes with Rhames, and then take it back the same night. Some places will give you a dollar off your next rental for that.