eorge Orr (Davidson) is not a well man. He is so frightened of dreaming that he keeps himself awake using drugs obtained with the pharmacy cards of friends. Busted by the cops in the benign, socialistic near future in which Lathe of Heaven is set, Orr is sent to Dr. Haber (Conway), an oneirologist (dream therapist), to overcome his fear.
Haber assumes, naturally enough, that Orr is afraid of the content of his dreams, repressed desires welling up in him each night. But what really terrifies Orr is the process of dreaming. Orr believes he has the ability to dream "effective dreams" that change reality in the waking world--change it retroactively and in such a way that nobody but Orr remembers the pre-dream reality.
An interesting psychosis, Haber thinks. Until he monitors the sleeping Orr with the Augmentor--a device of the doctor's invention that induces and influences REM sleep--and gives him a hypnotic command to have an effective dream. This time, Haber witnesses the change in reality and remembers the prior one.
At first, Orr is elated. Haber can cure him, stop his effective dreaming before he alters things in some horrible, irreversible way. But Haber has other ideas. To Haber, Orr's ability is not a curse. It is the greatest scientific discovery in history. And more: it's a way in which reality can be altered for the better to eliminate such evils as war, poverty, disease and racism. Given this miraculous gift, Orr has an obligation to use it. Who better than Haber, with his trusty Augmentor, to guide him in making these much-needed improvements? And if Haber's own personal reality happens to improve at the same time, well, where's the harm in that?
"Perchance to dream--ay, there's the rub."
When Orr dreams under Haber's direction, realities get rubbed out like hard drives infected by the ILOVEYOU virus. As in a fairy tale, everything Haber wishes for, through the genie of Orr's dreams, goes awry. When he instructs Orr to do something about overpopulation, the result is a plague that kills billions. When he commands Orr to dream an end to all war on Earth between human beings, belligerent aliens appear.
Viewers familiar with Ursula K. Le Guin's classic novel of the same name will find this film a faithful and worthy adaptation. After its original broadcast on public television in 1979, Lathe languished in legal limbo ... ironically because of its use of the Beatles song, "With a Little Help from My Friends." In the intervening 20 years, the film attracted a cult following. PBS has received more requests for this film than any other in its library. The film has been remastered for its 20th anniversary broadcast and will air with a new interview with Le Guin by Bill Moyers.
So now it's back. Does it live up to the hype?
Yes and no. Inevitably, Lathe looks dated. The special effects have a naive, trippy, self-indulgent quality that can be charming, as in the case of Ed Emshwiller's alien attacks and the Mock Turtle-like aliens themselves. More often, like old hippies recounting their glory days, the special effects become tedious.
Yet the problems Haber sets out to solve are very much with us today, giving the film undiminished relevance. The sado-masochistic chemistry between Haber, chillingly portrayed by Kevin Conway, and Orr, equally well brought to life by Bruce Davison, is as suspenseful and engaging as one of Freud's case studies. Alas, the same cannot be said of Margaret Avery's stiff performance as Orr's love interest, Heather LeLache. Still, Lathe stands the test of time remarkably well.
ex (Allen) is a kosher butcher from New York who was recently relocated to Arizona under the witness protection program. When Tex discovers his wife Candy (a nearly unrecognizable and uncredited Sharon Stone) cheating on him, he hacks her to pieces with a chainsaw and disposes of the body parts in the desert just outside the New Mexico town of El Niņo.
One of the parts--a hand frozen in a familiar crude gesture--is discovered by one of the town's residents, an elderly blind woman. When she stumbles across the severed hand, her eyesight is miraculously restored. The old woman takes the hand to the village priest, Father Leo Jerome (Schwimmer), claiming that it must be the hand of the Virgin. News of the hand's healing ability spreads quickly through the town and soon others come to be cured.
Seeing the potential for profit, the mayor (Marin) turns the shrine into a roadside attraction. The town fast becomes a media circus swarming with journalists, tourists and pilgrims seeking their own miracles.
When Tex recognizes the hand on the cover of a tabloid, he returns to El Niņo to cover his tracks. He is followed by Texas trooper Bobo (Sutherland), one of Candy's many lovers, who suspects Tex has something to do with Candy's disappearance.
But when Tex steals the hand from its shrine, all the miracles revert, causing the townspeople to riot. The mayor wants the town's main attraction back, Bobo wants Tex to pay for Candy's murder, and Tex just wants to stay out of jail.
A witless farce
Picking Up the Pieces comes to Cinemax after producers were unable to find a theatrical distributor; it's no wonder why. This train wreck of a film has few redeeming qualities.
Crass jokes and cringe-worthy attempts at lowbrow humor abound. Much of the comedy is centered around the fact that the hand is permanently frozen with its middle finger extended. Souvenir stands and vendors quickly crop up selling everything from T-shirts to pinatas depicting the gesture. Another running gag involves the miraculous increase in the size of certain male and female body parts to absurd proportions.
Director Alfonso Arau (Like Water for Chocolate, A Walk in the Clouds) employs the visual elements of magical realism--brightly colored lighting, tilt angles, representational dream sequences--yet this ethereal style is at conflict with the bawdy nature of the film's script.
The cast is not short on talent, but how this dismal script attracted so many familiar names is a mystery. Stunt casting in the form of Fran Drescher, Elliot Gould and Andy Dick as a team of Catholic experts who come to town to authenticate the hand was an inspired idea but fails in the execution. Woody Allen turns in a characteristically droll performance--the film's few funny moments arise from Allen's clearly improvised conversations with his dog, Pinky--but he seems strikingly out of place against the New Mexico backdrop.
