Poet and author Charles Bukowski's autobiographical account of being a destitute drunk in modern-day Los Angeles. Henry Chinaski staggers into bars and willfully gets into fights, rubs everyone the wrong way, but eventually meets a lonely wreck of a woman--a possible kindred spirit, though one without dreams to write about--who needs a man to drink with. Bukowski had mixed feelings about Mickey Rourke's lead portrayal and, indeed, the actor gives a very flamboyant performance that takes some time adjusting to. Rourke is obviously giving director Barbet Schroeder what he wants, but there's a touch of self-amused grandstanding in Rourke's delivery that works against the licking-the-gutters scenario (it's too 'show biz'). Faye Dunaway is excellent in support, and Schroeder's eye for gritty detail is intriguing, but this character portrait seems stretched to the breaking point. Still, one of the highlights of the Cannon Film Group's legacy, although the movie was a box-office disappointment. **1/2 from ****