Susan Granger’s review of “THE CREW” (Touchstone Pictures)
First “Space Cowboys,” now another quartet of cranky, old geezers gear up for a final mission. No, they’re not saving the planet; they’re saving their sanity. It’s been too many years since Bats (Burt Reynolds), Brick (Dan Hedaya), Mouth (Seymour Cassel) and Bobby (Richard Dreyfuss) had anything to do but sip slurpees and ogle bikinis from the verandah of the Raj Mahal, a ratty retirement hotel in South Beach, Florida. Once they had it all – money, power, women and respect – but now they’re facing eviction from the semi-squalor of their suddenly trendy, ocean-view apartments when Bats comes up with a plan. They steal an unclaimed corpse from the mortuary where Brick works and shoot the dead guy in the lobby of their hotel. Predictably, their anti-gentrification scheme works. Squeamish yuppies flee the crime scene and their landlord relents, offering a rent reduction and hefty bonus for signing long-term leases. They’re into heavy-duty celebration until they discover the corpse was the senile father of a paranoid South American drug lord (Miguel Sandoval) – and that Mouth spilled the story to a stripper/hooker (Jennifer Tilly) who threatens to blab unless the wiseguys bump off her wealthy, widowed step-mother (Lainie Kazan). Chaos reigns when this crime caper goes sour, much to the consternation and confusion of a police detective (Carrie-Ann Moss) who has more than a passing interest in Bobby. While I didn’t find the gang-whiz along the side of the road particularly funny, Barry Fanaro’s screenplay, directed by Michael Dinner, contrives to elicit chuckles if not belly-laughs. And why not? Fanaro used to write and produce TV’s “The Golden Girls.” On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “The Crew” is a satirical 5, a genial geriatric Goodfellas.
