In a year with such bombs as Glitter, Freddy Got Fingered, and Driven, it's easy to pass over 3000 Miles to Graceland in the race for the highly coveted Razzie for Worst Picture of the Year. In any other year, 3000 Miles might have been a favorite; it's the poor film's luck that it came out at a great time for terrible movies. But don't forget this dark horse Razzie voters, this movie has the goods; er, bads.
I'd like to pinpoint where this movie went wrong, but in this case it seems difficult to find a way in which the film could have gone right. From the opening credits we're heavy into oddball territory, as a film about Elvis-impersonating gangsters opens with a lengthy (and highly inauthentic) battle between two CGI scorpions. Clearly director Demian Lichtenstein is trying to suggest something about super-mean character Murphy, played by a mutton-chopped Kevin Costner. Murphy, coincidentally, has a scorpion tattoo and a scorpion belt. He likes scorpions a whole lot.
His nemesis in this thing is Michael Zane, another Elvis impersonating criminal, played by Kurt Russell. Along with a team of additional King impersonators (Including David Arquette and Christian Slater), they rob a Vegas casino about a half hour into in the picture, and spend the remaining ninety minutes following each other around trying to secure the loot. Courteney Cox plays requisite love interest Cybil (with a `c'), and her young child/annoying sidekick is perhaps the most irksome movie tyke since Thomas Ian Nicholas in A Kid In King Arthur's Court.
It's curious that the movie sets up the Elvis bank robbers, and odd and intriguing premise, only to have the robbery play out completely in Act I, so the rest of the movie is a series of typical (and bad) gangster chases and double-crosses, except all the characters have sideburns and sequins (Note: The longer your sideburns in this movie, the more dangerous you are). Lichtenstein and co-writer Richard Recco don't have a firm grip here; is this a goofy heist flick? A gritty Tarantino-esque neo-noir? A road trip love story? I wish I could have heard this movie's pitch. `Well, it's Reservoir Dogs meets Honeymoon in Vegas meets Dutch.' A winning pedigree like that; it's shocking this thing went wrong.
Among the most glaring omissions in the film is the lack of character motivation. We know Costner's Murphy is real evil; cause he kills people but especially because he smokes indoors while wearing sunglasses. But why is he so gosh-darn angry? The movie doesn't have time bother with a reason, it's too busy finding spaces for disappointing cameos from Jon Lovitz and Ice T (whose last appearance on screen will get a huge unintentional laugh even from the film's most ardent supporters). Say this about the movie; Howie Long doesn't have to say Firestorm is the worst movie he's been in any more. Congrats Howie.
The movie drags so long they might as well have called it 3000 Minutes to Graceland. I saw it on television, and I still want my money back. The film closes with a protracted and unsuspenseful orgy of gunfire, after which FBI agent Kevin Pollack tells his men `Go make sure everyone's ok.' At that point, you hope he's sending someone out to check on the audience and make sure they are still breathing too.
I'd like to pinpoint where this movie went wrong, but in this case it seems difficult to find a way in which the film could have gone right. From the opening credits we're heavy into oddball territory, as a film about Elvis-impersonating gangsters opens with a lengthy (and highly inauthentic) battle between two CGI scorpions. Clearly director Demian Lichtenstein is trying to suggest something about super-mean character Murphy, played by a mutton-chopped Kevin Costner. Murphy, coincidentally, has a scorpion tattoo and a scorpion belt. He likes scorpions a whole lot.
His nemesis in this thing is Michael Zane, another Elvis impersonating criminal, played by Kurt Russell. Along with a team of additional King impersonators (Including David Arquette and Christian Slater), they rob a Vegas casino about a half hour into in the picture, and spend the remaining ninety minutes following each other around trying to secure the loot. Courteney Cox plays requisite love interest Cybil (with a `c'), and her young child/annoying sidekick is perhaps the most irksome movie tyke since Thomas Ian Nicholas in A Kid In King Arthur's Court.
It's curious that the movie sets up the Elvis bank robbers, and odd and intriguing premise, only to have the robbery play out completely in Act I, so the rest of the movie is a series of typical (and bad) gangster chases and double-crosses, except all the characters have sideburns and sequins (Note: The longer your sideburns in this movie, the more dangerous you are). Lichtenstein and co-writer Richard Recco don't have a firm grip here; is this a goofy heist flick? A gritty Tarantino-esque neo-noir? A road trip love story? I wish I could have heard this movie's pitch. `Well, it's Reservoir Dogs meets Honeymoon in Vegas meets Dutch.' A winning pedigree like that; it's shocking this thing went wrong.
Among the most glaring omissions in the film is the lack of character motivation. We know Costner's Murphy is real evil; cause he kills people but especially because he smokes indoors while wearing sunglasses. But why is he so gosh-darn angry? The movie doesn't have time bother with a reason, it's too busy finding spaces for disappointing cameos from Jon Lovitz and Ice T (whose last appearance on screen will get a huge unintentional laugh even from the film's most ardent supporters). Say this about the movie; Howie Long doesn't have to say Firestorm is the worst movie he's been in any more. Congrats Howie.
The movie drags so long they might as well have called it 3000 Minutes to Graceland. I saw it on television, and I still want my money back. The film closes with a protracted and unsuspenseful orgy of gunfire, after which FBI agent Kevin Pollack tells his men `Go make sure everyone's ok.' At that point, you hope he's sending someone out to check on the audience and make sure they are still breathing too.