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First Love, Last Rites

1998, Movie, NR, 93 mins

FIRST LOVE, LAST RITES
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Lethargic, monotonous and dopey, this tale of doomed love directed by Lemonheads bassist turned music-video director Jesse Peretz (best known for his Jimmy McBride the cab driver ad campaign for MTV), sits like a load of molasses on an ulcer. Based on a short story by Ian McEwan, Peretz's lumpy, ungainly feature debut is steeped in the claustrophobic intimacy of young love. Transplanted Brooklynite Joey Milano (Giovanni Ribisi) is quite literally shacked up with local girl Sissel (Natasha Gregson Wagner) in a Louisiana bayou town that time forgot. Steeped in a European tradition of aimless angst, the movie's young lovers, who speak to each other as though through a haze of sedatives, don't do much except eat Chinese food in bed, make love and spin so many 45s you can't help but wonder why they don't get dizzy. You also can't help but notice that Ribisi, of the pale and frequently flaunted torso (which is used to better effect in SAVING PRIVATE RYAN), makes for a rather skinny Adonis; Wagner obligingly flaunts her similarly underwhelming assets. The physical symmetry between the leads is about the only pleasing thing about their pointless (and endless) sex scenes, which are sometimes punctuated by a dream sequence or by a scene in which Joey pals around with his gal's crackpot dad (Robert John Burke). Inevitably, the innocent youngsters' ideal relationship starts to wane as Joey gets involved in dad's eel-trapping scheme. We know this because Sissel -- ever the subtly written character -- takes to boiling those 45s. The whole sorry business is a snoozer from start to finish: Skip it. leave a comment --Sandra Contreras
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