E ruins otherwise r )th
By Samuel McKewon
Editor
The climax to “Arlington Road”
reminded me of the talking villain in
one of the overheated action thrillers.
Just before they kill the hero, they feel
compelled to reveal far too much, wait
too long and get killed themselves.
This movie feels the same way. Its
ending determines much of how you
see the film, which is a tense romp
through the field of paranoia and
domestic terrorism up until the final 20
minutes. Then, instead of going for a
cpnventional, showdown-style ending
(which could have worked), screen
writer Ehren Kruger opts for a trick akin
to one huge movie-long mirage, which
could have worked too, if the movie did
n’t then proceed to reveal how clever it
thinks it is.
It’s a shame, because only a odd,
everything-was-just-an-illusion twist
could have ruined what was a satisfying
buildup, focused on ideas rather than
pointless, big explosions. “Arlington
Road” starts off with a jolt, as George
Washington history professor Michael
Faraday (Jeff Bridges) is driving home
to Reston, Va. home and finds a boy
(Mason Gamble) dripping with blood in
the street, his hand damaged.
It’s hours later at the hospital that
Faraday meets the boy’s parents Oliver
and Cheryl Lang (Tim Robbins and
Joan Cusack), who happen to live
across the street from Faraday. Not long
after, Faraday and his girlfriend (Hope
Davis) are at the Lang’s home; Faraday
even confides secrets about his dead
wife, who died in the line of duty with
the FBI, to his neighbors.
Him Review
The Facts
Title: “Arlington Road*
Stars: Jeff Bridges, Tim Robbins
Director: Mark Pellington
Rating: R (adult language, terrorist violence)
Running Time: 117 minutes (1:57)
Grade: C
Flve Words: Laughable ending kills satisfying
buildup
Faraday is no regular professor, but
one who teaches courses on terrorism
and, shock of all shocks, he begins to
suspect that Oliver Lang is one himself.
He becomes sure of it where he looks
into the Lang’s past. Robbins, in a per
formance that isn’t one of his more
memorable, still creates an uneasiness
about his character that contributes to
the herky-jerky atmosphere director
(and MTV vet) Mark Pellington creates.
From there, it’s a heated search for
the truth and an avalanche of coinci
dences (exactly how did those
envelopes end up in Faraday’s mail
box?), with Bridges screwing his maw
into all kinds of contortions of disbelief
and fear. It’s a trademark of Bridges’
acting, and it works here, too, although,
in retrospect, the movie might have
been better had he and Robbins
reversed roles. In supporting work,
Cusack and Davis service the plot well.
But whatever foundation die movie
creates is shaken to its core by the end
ing, which asks you to rethink every
thing, and I mean everything, that’s
been seen up to that point The last five
minutes of “Arlington Road”, which
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UOUKTESY iHOTO
JEFF BRIDGES plays Michael Faraday, a professor who believes his neighbors are terrorists, and Hope Davis plays
the woman who loves him in “Arlington Road.”
comes after the actual, tremendously
downbeat ending of the movie, destroys
the audience’s thought process by giv
ing an exact answer to Lang’s entire ter
rorist plot. And I believe the entire plot
could have worked, had it not been han
dled with such obvious foolishness in its
final details.
It isn’t possible, for example, to
guarantee the exact every move one
man will make; that he will go to a cer
tain phone, that he will search out the
true identity of the terrorist, that he
won’t talk to the FBI even though that
would be the obvious way to stop every
thing. It is even more impossible to pre
dict the actions of those who come in
contact with that man and allow him to
seal the fate of all involved.
In retrospect, one sees the Lang
character as a man both incredibly lucky
and stupid. Had “Arlington Road” not
felt so compelled to tack on its epilogue,
there could have been some spirited
debate and how what happened actually
happened, sort of in the vein of “12
Monkeys.”
Instead, we are left with a movie that
asks a few decent questions of modern
day terrorism and law enforcement, and
then answers those questions in a way
that conjures up thoughts of astrology
rather than logic. The planets must have
been aligned the day some Hollywood
executive green-lighted “Arlington
Road’s” preposterous denouement
Coconut Bay otters up
island atmoshpere in city
■ Landlocked Lincolnites
have a new place to go for
Caribbean flavor, even if it
isabitover-the-top.
By J.J. Harder
StaffWriter
If you can’t afford a ticket to see
Jimmy Buffett this summer, then shell
out two bucks and swim into Coconut
Bay.
The two clams are for the cover, a
good value for an evening of food and
fun at Lincoln’s new island paradise
of a restaurant/bar.
Coconut Bay, 9th & Capitol
Parkway, provides a Caribbean
atmosphere in the middle of
Nebraska. Not a waitress can be found
without a Hawaiian shirt and not a
drink is blended without a palm tree
ornament in each glass. But from the
fake aquarium above the bar to the
blinding South Beach colors of the
walls, Coconut Bay is a bit of a tacky
tropical vacation.
And if the decorations aren’t
gaudy enough, the menu is definitely
over the top. The Bay offers a variety
of the standard fried or grilled bar
foods, but tries to give them an island
twist. For instance, a regular burger is
called the Ocho Rios Beach Burger.
Sounds very tropical, but tastes just
like a burger at Barry’s. This type of
exaggerated, over-hyped entree-nam
ing litters the menu.
But the selection is wide enough
.to overcome the cheesy naming
shtick. Most of the appetizers are def
initely appealing, especially the
breaded mushrooms and chicken ten
ders. A number of salads are available,
along with a good numhgfepf chicken
and steak dishes, all _ 10. The
Jerk Chicken is probt e most
authentic&f entrees, irobably
no more boastal thai average
chicken sandwich ol ickyard
grill.
And for a restai has the
word “Bay” in it, I pect a
large number of s< :dishes.
About all this Bay iter is a
breaded shrimp a] and a
,• ,s. ■
:---r-—
“Catch of the Day.” But it’s hard to
expect good seafood 1000 miles
inward from the coast. Even Charlie’s
and Inn Harms Way do only a
mediocre job with fish, so we’ll have
to cut Coconut Bay a little break.
The one area in which the Bay
does do the islands justice is in its
drink specials. A list of 12 $3 frozen
drinks should allow even the most
down-home of Nebraska cowboys to
venture out a little bit And the Bay
adds just a dash of coconut to each
drink to give them a distinct flavor.
On the food and drinks alone,
Coconut Bay shouldn’t make you
want to call for reservations. But the
one thing that should make you want
to give it a try is the Jimmy Mack
Show. As the Bay’s version of enter
tainment, Jimmy Mack is pretty much
a DJ with a microphone, singing
beach standards - Margaritaville,
Copa Cabana, etc. He’s a middle-aged
cheeseball with maracas that makes
people want to make fools of them
selves on the dance floor.
I guess he’s close enough to
Jimmy Buffett, and Coconut Bay is
close enough to the coast.
