Six Ways to Sunday (May 21/01)

What can really be said about a movie that culminates with the main character having sex with his mother?

Norman Reedus stars as that character, a young (and completely insane) fellow named Harry. Harry's not too bright and he's also got a split personality. Every now and then, he'll imagine he's another man and assume his traits. Anyway, his friend (Adrian Brody) gets him "made" with a small group of mafiosos and Harry is soon earning big bucks and killing lots of people.

Six Ways to Sunday is, by and large, completely incoherent. The film essentially just starts, without any kind of explanation as to why Harry acts the way he does. And we never do get an explanation, either. We're just meant to assume he's crazy (what with his other identity and all) and oh boy, watch as the crazy guy gets into all kinds of wacky misadventures with the mob!

His mother is played by ex-Blondie frontwoman Debbie Harry and she's perhaps even more mad than Harry is. Remember how nuts Piper Laurie was as Carrie's mom? Well, multiply that by about 100 and you've got Harry's character. She's convinced that women are all tramps and warns her son to keep away. And she still gives him bubble baths and pops his zits for him. This character was completely over-the-top (much like the movie itself) and served no purpose other than to make Harry look normal by comparison.

There are few bright spots to Six Ways to Sunday (Brody's performance being one of them; here's an actor that can take even the worst material and make it look good), so it's hard not to wonder what the writer was thinking ("let's make Goodfellas, except with a psycho as the Ray Liotta character - oh, and let's bring in Carrie's mom for no reason whatsoever!")

Six Ways to Sunday is mildly entertaining, but it's guaranteed to anger you once it's over. You expect that the disjointed plot is going to lead to something significant, but all you get is a pseudo-happy ending that the main character doesn't even deserve.