墨西哥人 The Mexican review by MARY KALIN-CASEY

Brad Pitt and Julia Roberts. Together. These two fountains of charisma could peel potatoes on-screen and people would line up for miles. Luckily, the stars tackle more substantive material in The Mexican, a quirky melange that defies simple definition and stands to be one of the most offbeat romantic comedies ever crafted.
The titular "Mexican" is not a man, but a gun. And not just any weapon, but a coveted, gorgeous pistola with silver filigree, a heart-shaped chamber, and a mysterious, cursed history. When bumbling mob errand boy Jerry Welbach (Pitt) blows a job, his boss, Nayman (Bob Balaban), gives the hapless messenger a choice between immediate incineration and a south-of-the-border run to pick up the famed firearm. Naturally, Jerry sees only one option, but his forceful girlfriend, Samantha (Roberts), wants her man out of the business and en route with her to Las Vegas. So she throws him out, and they take to separate roads — he in a rented azure-blue El Camino to the dusty straightaways of Mexico, she in an over-packed lime-green Volkswagen Bug, headin' for Nevada.

For much of The Mexican, Pitt and Roberts aren't on-screen together, yet their connection is the main theme of the film, pulling at the two characters like an invisible thread. As Jerry stumbles into one misfortune after another, eventually becoming a moving target with his priceless trophy, he learns more about the legendary Mexican and the mysterious tale of its creation. These recountings of the gun's history unfold, Rashomon-like, via different interpretations by each teller and shot in brilliantly lit, silent flashback sequences. The layering of past and present romances tolls like a bell on Jerry's simple psyche, while setting up a more complex resolution at the film's climax. Meanwhile, Sam is kidnapped by Nayman's wacko hit man, Leroy (The Sopranos' James Gandolfini), to ensure Jerry's fruitful return, and these two embark on a getting-to-know-you Vegas escapade that lies somewhere between Frankie and Johnny and Midnight Run. Their psychoanalytical exchanges cause Sam to reflect on her relationship with Jerry, and the mirroring of these two characters' personal realizations keeps the two geographically distant story lines tied together.

Roberts and Gandolfini share wonderful chemistry, making their budding buddies a believable team. One diner scene in which Leroy reveals that he's gay actually includes the exchange "Are you gay?" "You want me to rape you?" "Are you gay?" "You want me to rape you?" again and again, with increasing giddiness and absurdity, until Sam finally prods the burly hit man to admit the truth. This scene could only work between actors who capture the playful way in which real friends mock one another. In lesser hands, this touchy dialogue would have destroyed the film, but here it sets a foundation for their understanding.

While Sam and Leroy are killing time at the Plaza, Jerry can barely keep his hands on the Mexican, and it soon becomes clear that he's being set up. When the lovers are finally reunited, a shocking revelation occurs which sends Sam into a tailspin — and audience expectations on end for the film's final quarter. At this juncture, The Mexican becomes more intriguing and rewarding, as invisible puzzle pieces materialize and fall together and the connection between the romantic and suspenseful plot threads come head to head. After 90 minutes, however, it also begins to feel protracted. Though the final twists and scenes prove critical to bringing the story full circle, the last act draws attention to some of the draggy moments that preceeded it. Sam has a few too many character-defining tirades, and most of them are longer than necessary — particularly the first in which she lambastes Jerry for taking the Mexican job while tossing his belongings into the street. And Jerry's ineptitude and magnetism for mishap is over-illustrated.

South-of-the-border stereotyping is also in full force here. Alcoholics and snaggle-toothed miscreants abound — even Jerry's canine sidekick is a grizzled mess — with cops and service-industry types just waiting to rook the unsuspecting gringos. But Jerry's world is one of shady ventures, and he a man of incredibly bad luck, so upstanding citizens other than Sam don't exactly flock to the poor bastard.

But Pitt and Roberts have talent and appeal to burn, and the script's excesses are forgivable when cleverly entertaining and offered by such charming personalities. Together, they light up the screen, with Roberts doing her best at lovably high-maintenance, no-nonsense, and whip-smart, and Pitt playing cute and loyal, but none-too-bright. The supporting cast is flawless — particularly Gandolfini ("I'm just here to regulate funkiness"), whose bearish hit man becomes endearing, menacing, and ultimately tragic.

The Mexican defies simple categorization. Largely a cross between romantic comedy and crime caper, this genre-jumper also incorporates historical fable, relationship drama, black comedy, and violent action — all punctuated with visual wit and twangy musical homages to Ennio Morricone's spaghetti-Western scores. Screenwriter J.H. Wyman interweaves the hilarity of mishap, the emotional pain of death, and the machinations of a crime thriller, all in support of the belief that "true love triumphs over all." As directed by MouseHunt's Gore Verbinski, these elements are coexisting aspects in one cinematic world which doesn't insist upon uniformity.

Concocting a cohesive film with so many attributes is not an easy thing to do. And even well-executed, it's a tough product to sell. Mainstream American audiences like their movies in neat little categories to suit their mood of the day, and they don't know how to react to films that blur boundaries and shift in tone. The Mexican isn't just another upbeat "Julia Roberts Romantic Comedy." It's a challenge. But its borders are worth crossing.

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