EMPIRE RECORDS (1995)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
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| I don't recall seeing a headphone-wearing dog |
"Empire Records" is hardly the "Clerks" of record stores. I only have to ask my wife, who used to work in a record store, about the movie's credibility. She never recalled employees dancing in the aisles to loud music, a flashing bulb at a register, or a mock funeral of a suicidal employee. If those elements had worked or were confined to a screenplay of wit and situational chaos, I might have appreciated the film more. As it is, the movie is not really about anything yet it is wired to be explosive and chaotic.
The movie begins with the ironic Lucas (Rory Cochrane) closing shop at the music store. He finds out that his boss (Anthony LaPaglia) is planning to sell out to a franchise, so what does Lucas do? He takes the record store's sales, all 9,000 dollars worth, bets at an Atlantic City casino and loses it all. The next day, rather than skipping town altogether, Lucas shows up at work. LaPaglia is ready to call the cops, but you know he won't. Why not? Dunno.
Meanwhile, a host of employees come in to work. Some come in early to work on their calculus homework, such as Miss Perfect Corey (Liv Tyler). Others simply never seem to do much of anything, such as Mark (Ethan Embry) who sweeps the aisles and the backroom and sings and dances around the whole store. One employee is simply a slut (Renee Zellweger, pre-"Jerry Maguire"). Another shaves her head and wears a bandage on her wrist (Robin Tunney, who appears to have drifted in from a Gus Van Sant flick). And to make matters worse, in light of the corporate takeover, a smug, self-important singer named Rex Manning (Maxwell Caulfield, absolutely pitch-perfect) will be signing autographs. Ah, let us not forget that lovable shoplifter who calls himself Warren Beatty (Brendan Sexton III, injecting much-needed grit as he did in "Welcome to the Dollhouse").
This is the kind of movie where there isn't just a mock funeral but an employee who passes the time by gluing quarters to the floor. This is also the kind of movie where Rex gives in to Corey's sexual fantasy (she takes her clothes off to reveal nothing more than a red bikini) and she walks away in disgust when he concedes by aiming for some oral activity. These employees should all be fired.
In 2000, "High Fidelity" was released and it possessed what much of this film is missing - soul and a sense of purpose (the record store in that film looked like an independent record store). Still, I've got to hand it to director Allan Moyle (who made the poignant "Times Square" and the angst-ridden "Pump Up the Volume") for making this watchable. I don't know how he does it because the acting is nil, the situations are contrived and unrealistic, but the music is terrific. The music is propulsive (sampling the likes of Gwar and Better than Ezra), and maybe that is the point. These kids are so disillusioned that only the music matters - it gives them a voice. I guess I am just tone deaf as to what that voice is.
Footnote: Brendan Sexton III actually owns a New York City-based independent record label "Big Bit Of Beauty".
