Icarus File No. 28: Looker (dir. by Michael Crichton)


“Hi, I’m Cindy. I’m the perfect female type: 18 to 25. I’m here to sell for you.” — Cindy Fairmont

Looker is one of those 1981 films that, when it first came out, probably felt more like a goofy, slightly overwrought tech‑paranoia thriller than a serious prediction about the future. On paper, the premise—plastic‑surgery‑obsessed models being turned into digital clones for hyper‑tuned TV ads—sounds like a pulpy B‑movie gimmick. But viewed through the lens of right now, with Instagram influencers, AI‑generated content, and algorithm‑driven aesthetics shaping how we think about beauty and success, Looker starts to feel like a strangely accurate, almost eerie forecast. For a movie that was easy to write off as a minor, tonally wobbly Michael Crichton artifact, it does a surprisingly sharp job of outlining the emotional and cultural landscape we’re living in four decades later.

At the center of that landscape is Digital Matrix, the film’s antagonist in the form of a sleek, forward‑looking tech company that positions itself as a clean, rational, and indispensable partner to the advertising world. The company promises to revolutionize marketing by replacing messy, unreliable human models with perfectly calibrated digital avatars optimized to trigger maximum viewer response. That framing—as a neutral, even benevolent innovator—makes it all the more unsettling when its plans take on a distinctly murderous slant. To protect its “LOOKER” system and its vision of a world where perception can be mathematically controlled, Digital Matrix is willing to silence anyone who gets too close to the truth, from test‑subject models to inquisitive doctors. The bodies start piling up just off‑screen, treated as collateral damage in the pursuit of a more efficient, more profitable media ecosystem.

Seen from today’s vantage, Digital Matrix feels like a rough, bluntly drawn prototype of the big tech giants we now live with: polished, data‑driven, media‑centric, and profoundly invested in shaping what we see, buy, and believe. The difference, of course, is that modern tech behemoths are a lot better at hiding the bodies. In the real world, the “harm” is rarely as literal as Looker portrays it; instead, it shows up as algorithm‑driven addictions, mental health erosion, privacy carve‑ups, and the quiet erosion of trust in shared reality. People don’t get zapped by a sinister beam of light in a corporate lab; they get nudged into polarization, over‑consumption, or self‑images so warped that they resemble the film’s surgically obsessed models. The film exaggerates the physical violence, but its broader point—that when a tech company decides it can engineer human behavior at scale, ethical lines start to blur—still rings uncomfortably true.

Crichton’s version of this is less about organic social‑media culture and more about a centralized, corporate‑run system, but the emotional texture is similar. The models in Looker are under pressure to conform to a narrow, algorithmically derived standard of beauty, and the film doesn’t shy away from the toll that takes. They’re not just selling products; they’re being sold as products, their bodies and faces reduced to data points that can be adjusted, duplicated, and replaced. The idea that a person can be scanned, stored, and then endlessly repurposed as a digital avatar also anticipates contemporary debates about deepfakes, AI‑generated influencers, and the fear that real actors, musicians, and creators might be replaced by synthetic versions once their likeness and behavior are sufficiently “trained.” In that sense, Looker reads like an early, slightly clunky draft of the same anxieties we’re only now starting to grapple with at scale.

Where Looker falls short, at least in its day, is in fully articulating what all of this means for the idea of truth. The technology of 1981—not just the film’s budget and effects, but the broader cultural imagination—still assumed that truth was something largely fixed, something you could point to and defend if you had the right facts on your side. The movie flirts with the idea that perception can be manufactured, but it doesn’t really have the tools yet to show how completely that can destabilize the very concept of objective reality. The “LOOKER” system is treated as a kind of brainwashing gadget, a one‑off sci‑fi device rather than the logical endpoint of an entire infrastructure built to measure, model, and manipulate human behavior. The film wants to ask who controls the image, but in the early ’80s that question still felt contained, almost theatrical.

Now, in a world where truth is less about who has the facts in their corner and more about who controls the data, it’s clear how undercooked that idea really was in Looker. Today, truth is less a question of evidence and more a question of access: who has the biggest data centers, who owns the most comprehensive behavioral datasets, who runs the most sophisticated algorithmic matrices for shaping what people see, hear, and believe. Social‑media platforms, search engines, and ad networks don’t just reflect reality; they actively construct it by deciding which voices get amplified, which images get pushed, and which narratives get repeated until they feel like consensus. The company with the most money to build and refine those systems doesn’t just sell products; it sells versions of reality, packaged as personalized feeds, auto‑generated content, and AI‑driven narratives that feel increasingly indistinguishable from the “real” world.

Looker doesn’t fail because the ideas themselves are weak; in fact, the film actually does a fairly solid job of letting those ideas breathe and collide with each other. The problem is that those ideas sounded quite ludicrous within the context of 1981. A company digitally scanning and cloning models to engineer perfect ads, then using a device to subtly manipulate viewers’ minds, felt closer to paranoid pulp fantasy than plausible near‑future speculation. That gap between the film’s ambition and its audience’s willingness to buy into it gives the movie a slightly awkward tone, as if the world around it hasn’t yet caught up to the reality Crichton is trying to describe. The concepts are ahead of their time, which is exactly what makes them feel so prescient now, but back then, that same forward‑thinking quality made them easier to dismiss as silly or overreaching.

That disconnect is compounded by a cast that never quite seems to have fully bought into the film’s themes and narrative, even though several of them are game within the limits of the material. Albert Finney brings his usual grounded, slightly skeptical energy to Dr. Larry Roberts, lending the story a believable human center as the reluctant investigator pulled into Digital Matrix’s orbit. There’s a lived‑in quality to his performance that makes the ethical unease feel real, even when the plot veers into goofy sci‑fi mechanics. James Coburn, meanwhile, chews the scenery with a smarmy, charming conviction that suits Reston perfectly; he plays the corporate tech visionary as someone who genuinely believes in his own rhetoric, which makes his moral bankruptcy feel all the more unsettling. But around them, the rest of the ensemble often feels like it’s treating the premise more as a glossy thriller window dressing than a full‑blown social‑tech critique. The models and executives sometimes land their lines with a kind of detached professionalism that undercuts the deeper anxieties the film is trying to tap into.

As a piece of cultural legacy, Looker works less as a perfectly executed prediction and more as an early, slightly wobbly harbinger of the digital age we’re now fully immersed in. The film’s version of Digital Matrix may look clunky by our standards, but its logic—optimize attention, manufacture desire, and treat people as data to be extracted and reused—has become the default operating system of much of the digital world. The anxiety about who controls the image, who owns the algorithm, and who ultimately shapes what we see as “real” is no longer a speculative sci‑fi concern; it’s baked into the daily experience of social media, deepfake content, and AI‑driven feeds. Looker doesn’t need to be taken as a perfectly accurate prediction; it’s more powerful as a mood piece about the anxieties Crichton saw simmering beneath the surface of media, technology, and consumer culture. And in the way it casts a cutting‑edge tech company as the film’s real antagonist—a corporation whose “progressive” vision of the future quietly slides into murder and control—it feels uncomfortably close to the darker side of today’s Silicon Valley logic, minus the obvious body count but packed with a different kind of damage—one that’s less about visible corpses and more about the quiet erosion of what we can trust to be true.

Looker doesn’t so much fly too high to the sun and then crash‑burn under the weight of its ambition as it does peer through a cracked, slightly distorted future‑looking glass and just keeps staring in the wrong direction until the future finally catches up to it. It’s a film that doesn’t quite hold together as a flawless sci‑fi masterpiece, but it also never fully collapses under its own loftiness the way so many overly serious ’80s tech‑paranoia pictures do. Instead, it lurches forward with a rough, uneven energy that somehow makes its prescience feel more honest than polished. The movie doesn’t provide clean answers or tidy resolutions; it just lays out a set of ideas—about media, authenticity, beauty standards, and corporate control over perception—and then lets them sit in the air long after the credits roll.

Previous Icarus Files:

  1. Cloud Atlas
  2. Maximum Overdrive
  3. Glass
  4. Captive State
  5. Mother!
  6. The Man Who Killed Don Quixote
  7. Last Days
  8. Plan 9 From Outer Space
  9. The Last Movie
  10. 88
  11. The Bonfire of the Vanities
  12. Birdemic
  13. Birdemic 2: The Resurrection 
  14. Last Exit To Brooklyn
  15. Glen or Glenda
  16. The Assassination of Trotsky
  17. Che!
  18. Brewster McCloud
  19. American Traitor: The Trial of Axis Sally
  20. Tough Guys Don’t Dance
  21. Reach Me
  22. Revolution
  23. The Last Tycoon
  24. Express to Terror 
  25. 1941
  26. The Teheran Incident
  27. Con Man

Guilty Pleasure No. 79: Kate’s Secret (dir by Arthur Allan Seidelman)


In this 1986 melodrama, Kate (Meredith Baxter) has a secret.  She may look like healthy and young and blonde.  She may have a beautiful house and a handsome husband (Ben Masters).  She and her fitness instructor best friend (Shari Belafonte) may spend their time making fun of how fat everyone else.  But deep down, Kate is convinced that she’s overweight.  She gets on the scale and that declaration of 120 pounds feels like a slap in the face.

How does Kate lose weight?  She exercises frequently.  And she spends a lot of time staring at herself in the mirror, as if trying to mentally burn away the pounds.  Mostly, though, Kate just binges on food whenever she gets stressed and then she throws up.  Kate has a lot of reasons to be stressed and they are almost entirely due to her mother (Georgann Johnson), who rarely has a nice word to say to Kate and who constantly tells Kate that she’s going to lose her husband to his assistant (Leslie Bevis).

(Who does everyone always assume that assistants are going to be homewreckers?)

Now, to be clear, eating disorders are a serious thing.  I know more than a few people who have had eating disorders.  During my first semester of college, I got very used to the sound of the girl in the room next to mine throwing up every morning.  There’s nothing funny about the idea of someone having an eating disorder.  However, there is something funny about an overwritten movie about an eating disorder that features Meredith Baxter literally attacking a chocolate cake then blaming the mess in the kitchen on the dogs.  This is one of those well-intentioned programs that takes a real problem and then goes so overboard in portraying it that it’s more likely to make you snicker than feel horrified.  You might not feel good about laughing but the crazed look in Meredith Baxter’s cake-filled eyes will make it difficult not to.  Hence, the term guilty pleasure.

As always happens in these type of movies, Kate ends up in a treatment center where a doctor (Edward Asner) tries to reach her and the other patients are all either extremely nice or extremely rude.  Kate’s roommate (Tracy Nelson) is a model with anorexia.  Another patient (Mindy Seeger) harps on Kate’s “perfect life.”  Meanwhile, poor Deyna (Mackenzie Phillips) freaks out when someone moves the garbage can.  It’s all very well-meaning but also very over-written and overacted to the point that, once again, it’s more likely to illicit a guilty laugh than anything else.

In the end, Kate realizes that it’s all her mother’s fault.  That was kind of obvious from the first time her mother told Kate that her husband was obviously planning on leaving her.  “I’m getting better,” Kate says as the credits roll.  Yay, Kate!

Previous Guilty Pleasures

  1. Half-Baked
  2. Save The Last Dance
  3. Every Rose Has Its Thorns
  4. The Jeremy Kyle Show
  5. Invasion USA
  6. The Golden Child
  7. Final Destination 2
  8. Paparazzi
  9. The Principal
  10. The Substitute
  11. Terror In The Family
  12. Pandorum
  13. Lambada
  14. Fear
  15. Cocktail
  16. Keep Off The Grass
  17. Girls, Girls, Girls
  18. Class
  19. Tart
  20. King Kong vs. Godzilla
  21. Hawk the Slayer
  22. Battle Beyond the Stars
  23. Meridian
  24. Walk of Shame
  25. From Justin To Kelly
  26. Project Greenlight
  27. Sex Decoy: Love Stings
  28. Swimfan
  29. On the Line
  30. Wolfen
  31. Hail Caesar!
  32. It’s So Cold In The D
  33. In the Mix
  34. Healed By Grace
  35. Valley of the Dolls
  36. The Legend of Billie Jean
  37. Death Wish
  38. Shipping Wars
  39. Ghost Whisperer
  40. Parking Wars
  41. The Dead Are After Me
  42. Harper’s Island
  43. The Resurrection of Gavin Stone
  44. Paranormal State
  45. Utopia
  46. Bar Rescue
  47. The Powers of Matthew Star
  48. Spiker
  49. Heavenly Bodies
  50. Maid in Manhattan
  51. Rage and Honor
  52. Saved By The Bell 3. 21 “No Hope With Dope”
  53. Happy Gilmore
  54. Solarbabies
  55. The Dawn of Correction
  56. Once You Understand
  57. The Voyeurs 
  58. Robot Jox
  59. Teen Wolf
  60. The Running Man
  61. Double Dragon
  62. Backtrack
  63. Julie and Jack
  64. Karate Warrior
  65. Invaders From Mars
  66. Cloverfield
  67. Aerobicide 
  68. Blood Harvest
  69. Shocking Dark
  70. Face The Truth
  71. Submerged
  72. The Canyons
  73. Days of Thunder
  74. Van Helsing
  75. The Night Comes for Us
  76. Code of Silence
  77. Captain Ron
  78. Armageddon

Film Review: The Day After (dir by Nicholas Meyer)


“This is Lawrence. This is Lawrence, Kansas. Is anybody there? Anybody at all?”

The words of Joe Huxley (John Lithgow) hang over the ending of The Day After, a 1983 film that imagines what the aftermath of a nuclear war would be like not on the East or the West Coasts but instead in the rural heartland of America.  Huxley is a professor at the University of Kansas and, as he explains early on in the film, Kansas would be an automatic target in any nuclear war because it houses a number of missile silos.  When he explains that, it’s in an almost joking tone, largely because the missiles haven’t been launched yet.  Instead, the only thing we’ve heard are a few barely noticed news stories about growing tensions between America and Russia.  About halfway through The Day After, the bombs go off and there are suddenly no more jokes to be made.

When the bombs drop over Kansas, we watch as cities and field and people burst into flames.  In a matter of minutes, several thousands are killed.  I’m almost ashamed to admit that I was probably more upset by the image of a horse being vaporized than I was by the death of poor Bruce Gallatin (Jeff East), the college student who was planning on marrying Denise Dahlberg (Lori Lethin).  I guess it’s because horses — really, all animals — have nothing to do with the conflicts between nations.  Humans are the ones who take the time to build bigger and better weapons and The Day After is one of the few films about war that’s willing to acknowledge that, when humans fight, it’s not just humans that die.

The bombing sequence is lengthy and I have to admit that I was a bit distracted by the fact that I recognized some of the footage from other movies.  A scene of panicked people running through a building was taken from Two-Minute Warning.  A scene of a building exploding and a construction worker being consumed by flames was lifted from Meteor.  As well, there’s some stock footage which should be familiar to anyone who has ever seen a documentary about the early days of the Cold War.  Still, despite that, it’s an effective sequence simply because it’s so relentless.  Some of the film’s most likable characters are vaporized before our eyes.  Steve Guttenberg, of all people, is seen ducking into a store.

Guttenberg plays Stephen Klein, a pre-med student who manages to survive the initial attack and takes shelter with the Dahlberg family at their ranch.  At first, it’s a bit distracting to see Steve Guttenberg in a very serious and very grim film about the nuclear apocalypse but he does a good job.  The sight of him losing both his teeth and his hair carries a punch precisely because he is reliably goofy Steve Guttenberg.

If the film has a star, it’s probably Jason Robards, the doctor who witnesses the initial blast from the safety of his car and then treats the dying in Lawrence, Kansas.  He does so, despite the fact that he doesn’t know if his wife, son, and daughter are even still alive.  He continues to do so until he also falls ill with radiation poisoning.  Knowing that he’s dying, he heads home just to discover that there is no home to return to.

Home is reccuring theme throughout The Day After.  Everyone wants to return to their home but everyone’s home has been wiped out.  “This is my home,” Jim Dahlberg (John Cullum) tries to explain before he’s attacked by a group of feral nomads.  Home no longer exists and trying to pretend like life can go back to the way it once was is an often fatal mistake.

Real happy film, right?  Yeah, this isn’t exactly a film that you watch for fun.  I have to admit that I made a joke about how I wouldn’t want to die while wearing the unfortunate blue jumpsuit that Jason Robards’s daughter chooses to wear on the day of the nuclear attack and I felt guilty immediately.  (Well, not that guilty.  Seriously, it was a terrible fashion choice.)  The Day After is a film that gives audiences zero hope by design.  It was made at a time when it was generally assumed that nuclear was inevitable and it was designed to scare the Hell out of everyone watching.  And while I can’t attest to how audience may have reacted in 1983, I can say that, in 2020, it’s still a powerful and disturbing film.

“Is anybody there? Anybody at all?” Joe Huxley asks and by the end of the film, the answer doesn’t matter.  The damage has already been done.

Lisa Watches An Oscar Winner: Midnight Cowboy (dir by John Schlesinger)


midnight_cowboy

Tonight, I watched the 1969 winner of the Oscar for Best Picture, Midnight Cowboy.

Midnight Cowboy is a movie about Joe Buck.  Joe Buck is played by an impossibly young and handsome Jon Voight.  Joe Buck — and, to be honest, just calling him Joe seems wrong, he is definitely a Joe Buck — is a well-meaning but somewhat dumb young man.  He lives in Midland, Texas.  He was raised by his grandmother.  He used to go out with Annie (Jennifer Salt) but she eventually ended up being sent to a mental asylum after being raped by all of Joe Buck’s friend.  Joe Buck doesn’t have many prospects.  He washes dishes for a living and styles himself as being a cowboy.  Being a Texan, I’ve known plenty of Joe Bucks.

Joe Buck, however, has a plan.  He knows that he’s handsome.  He’s convinced that all women love cowboys.  So, why shouldn’t he hop on a bus, travel to New York City, and make a living having sex with rich women?

Of course, once he arrives in the city, Joe Buck discovers that New York City is not quite as inviting as he thought it would be.  He lives in a tiny and dirty apartment.  He can barely afford to eat.  Walking around the city dressed like a cowboy (and remember, this was long before the Naked Cowboy became one of the most annoying celebrities of all time) and randomly asking every rich woman that he sees whether or not she can tell him where he can find the Statue of Liberty, Joe Buck is a joke.  Even when he does get a customer (played, quite well, by Sylvia Miles), she claims not to have any money and Joe Buck feels so sorry for her that he ends up giving her his money.

midnight3crowd

As I watched the first part of the movie, it stuck me that the main theme of Midnight Cowboy appeared to be that, in 1969, New York City was literally Hell on Earth.  But then Joe Buck has flashbacks to his childhood and his relationship with Annie and it quickly became apparent that Midland, Texas was Hell on Earth as well.  Towards the end of the film, it’s suggested that Miami might be paradise but not enough to keep someone from dying on a bus.

Seriously, this is a dark movie.

Joe Buck eventually meets Ratso Rizzo (Dustin Hoffman).  Ratso’s real name is Enrico but, after taking one look at him, you can’t help but feel that he’s a perfect Ratso.  Ratso is a con man.  Ratso is a petty thief.  Ratso knows how to survive on the streets but New York City is still killing him.  As a child, Ratso had polio and now he walks with a permanent limp.  He coughs constantly, perhaps because he has TB.  Ratso becomes Joe Buck’s manager and roommate (and, depending on how you to interpret certain scenes and lines, perhaps more) but only after attempting to steal all of his money.

Unfortunately, Ratso is not much of a manager.  Then again, Joe Buck is not much of a hustler.  Most of his customers are men (including a student played by a young but recongizable Bob Balaban), but Joe Buck’s own sexual preference remaining ambiguous.  Joe Buck is so quick to loudly say that he’s not, as Ratso calls him, a “fag” and that cowboys can’t be gay because John Wayne was a cowboy, that you can’t help but suspect that he’s in denial.  When he’s picked up by a socialite played by Brenda Vaccaro, Joe Buck is impotent until she teases him about being gay.  In the end, though, Joe Buck seems to view sex as mostly being a way to make money.  As for Ratso, he appears to almost be asexual.  His only concern, from day to day, is survival.

Did I mention this is a dark movie?

And yet, as dark as it is, there are moments of humor.  Joe Buck is incredibly dense, especially in the first part of the movie.  (During the second half of the film, Joe Buck is no longer as naive and no longer as funny.  It’s possible that he even kills a man, though the film is, I think, deliberately unclear on this point.)  Ratso has a way with words and it’s impossible not to smile when he shouts out his famous “I’m walking here!” at a taxi.  And, as desperate as Joe Buck and Ratso eventually become, you’re happy that they’ve found each other.  They may be doomed but at least they’re doomed together.

warhols-party

There’s a lengthy party scene, one that features several members of Andy Warhol’s entourage.  I was a bit disappointed that my favorite 60s icon, Edie Sedgwick, was nowhere to be seen.  (But be sure to check out Ciao Manhattan, if you want to see what Edie was doing while Joe Buck and Ratso Rizzo were trying not to starve.)  But, as I watched the party scene, I was reminded that Midnight Cowboy is definitely a film of the 60s.  That’s both a good and a bad thing.  On the positive side, the late 60s and 70s were a time when filmmakers were willing to take risks.  Midnight Cowboy could only have been made in 1969.  At the same time, there’s a few moments when director John Schlesinger, in the style of many 60s filmmakers, was obviously trying a bit too hard to be profound.  Some of the flashbacks and fantasy sequences veer towards the pretentious.

Fortunately, the performances of Voight and Hoffman have aged better than Schlesinger’s direction.  Hoffman has the more flamboyant role (and totally throws himself into it) but it really is Voight who carries the film.  Considering that he’s playing a borderline ludicrous character, the poignancy of Voight’s performance is nothing short of miraculous.

Midnight Cowboy was the first and only X-rated film to win best picture.  By today’s standards, it’s a PG-13.

Embracing the Melodrama Part II #77: Quicksilver (dir by Thomas Michael Donnelly)


QuicksilverWho doesn’t love Kevin Bacon?

Seriously, I have yet to meet anyone who doesn’t have a positive reaction to seeing Kevin Bacon on screen.  He may not be a star in the way that Bradley Cooper or Bollywood sensation Shah Rukh Kahn are stars but still, he is one of those actors that everyone just seems to instinctively like.

I think, to a large extent, that is because, despite the fact that he’s been around and acting forever, Kevin Bacon himself still comes across as being a normal, blue-collar sorta guy.  Whenever you see him being interviewed, you get the feeling that Kevin Bacon basically shows up, does his job to the best of his ability, and, as opposed to many other actors, he doesn’t take himself or his movies too seriously.  He’s justifiably proud of the good films that he’s appeared in and he’s never had any problem admitting that he’s been in a lot of bad films as well.

In fact, it was Kevin Bacon’s openness about his bad films that led to me discovering 1986’s Quicksilver.  This is the film that, in a 2008 interview, Kevin Bacon referred to as being “the absolute lowest point of my career.”  (Consider, for a minute, that this is being said by the same Kevin Bacon who had an arrow shoved through his throat in the original Friday the 13th and that will give you some clue of how much disdain Kevin seems to have for Quicksilver.)

Naturally, having read that, I knew that I simply had to see Quicksilver.  I’ll admit right now that I was hoping to discover that it was some sort of loss and unappreciated classic.  I wanted this to be the review where I defended the unacknowledged brilliance of Quicksilver.  I wanted to say, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Kevin!  Give Quicksilver another chance!”

But no.

Quicksilver doesn’t quite suck but it definitely comes close.

At the same time, it is interesting as a classic example of what happens when a filmmaker tries to assign some sort of deeper meaning to or find inherent nobility in an activity or job that really isn’t that interesting.  Often times, this will happen with sports movies.  A director or producer will make the mistake of thinking that just because he’s obsessed with beach volleyball that means that there’s a huge audience out there just waiting for someone to make the ultimate beach volleyball film.  Or, you’ll get a film like 1999’s Just The Ticket, where Andy Garcia is described as being the “world’s greatest ticket scalper” and the audience is supposed to be impressed.

In the case of Quicksilver, it’s all about being a bicycle messenger.  I’m assuming that, one day, director Thomas Michael Donnelly was stuck in traffic and he happened to see a bike messenger rushing down the street, whizzing past all of the stalled commuters.  And Donnelly probably thought, “I wish I was that guy right now!”  Every day after that, whenever Donnelly was stuck in traffic, he thought back to that bike messenger and slowly he grew obsessed.  All of his friends and his family got sick of listening to him talk about how much he envied the freedom of that bike messenger.  Finally, a little light bulb turned on over Donnelly’s head and he said, “I’ve got to make a movie out of this!”

And then the bulb burned out but nobody noticed.

Quicksilver-photo_625px_8col

Kevin Bacon plays Jack Casey.  When we first meet Jack, he’s a successful stock broker and he’s got a really bad, porn-appropriate mustache.  One day, he’s sitting in the back of a cab and he goads his driver into getting into a race with a bike messenger.  The messenger beats the cab.  Jack is amazed!

And then, perhaps the very same day (the film is so poorly edited that it’s hard to tell), Jack not only loses all of his money but all of his parents’ money as well.  Since poor men couldn’t afford facial hair in the 1980s, he shaves off his mustache.  Desperately needing work, Jack applies to be a  — you guessed it! — bicycle messenger.

The rest of the film is basically Jack delivering messages and talking about how he’s free now to live the life that he’s always wanted to live.  And the thing is, you like Jack because he’s being played by Kevin Bacon.  I mean, Kevin Bacon is so inherently likable that audiences even liked him when he was trying to kill Professor X and Magneto in X-Men: First Class.  But, at the same time, you listen to Jack go on and on about how much better his life is now and you just want to say, “Who are you kidding?”

Needless to say, Jack has a group of quirky coworkers.  Of course, by quirky, I mean that they are all quirky in a very predictable Hollywood sort of way.  For instance, there’s the crusty old veteran and the goofy fat guy and the hard-working Mexican guy who wants to start his own business in America and the cocky black guy who is mostly notable for being played by Laurence Fisburne.  One thing they all have in common is that they all love and damn near worship Jack, who has quite the common touch despite having formerly been a super rich stock broker with a bad mustache.

Anyway, Terri (Jami Gertz) also wants to become a bicycle messenger but she’s being used to deliver drugs by Gypsy (Rudy Ramos).  She and Jack fall in love and, along with helping out his quirky coworkers and finding a way to make back his fortune, Jack also has to deal with Gypsy.  It’s all very dramatic (though the drug dealer subplot feels as if it was awkwardly inserted into the film at the last moment) but mostly, the plot is just an excuse for scenes like the one below:

Quicksilver is … well, it’s not particularly good.  It has a few good bike weaving in and out of traffic scenes but it’s definitely no Premium Rush.  But it is kinda fun, in a “Oh my God, look at the 1980s” sorta way.  And, for what it’s worth, it’s a film that proves that Kevin Bacon can be likable in almost anything.