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Michael

1996, Movie, PG, 105 mins

Michael: Review

Unshaven, petulant, lustful and crude, John Travolta's Michael is not what most people imagine when they think angel. But there's the inescapable fact of those wings: big and white and firmly sprouting from his shoulders. Tabloid reporters Frank Quinlan (William Hurt) and Huey Driscoll (Robert Pastorelli) are dispatched to godforsaken Stubbs, IA, in response to a letter from a local (Jean Stapleton) who claims there's an angel living in her spare room. They're accompanied by the utterly adorable Sparky, the National Mirror's canine mascot, and purported angel expert Dorothy Winters (Andie MacDowell), who's as baffled as the rest of them by what they find: a fat, hairy guy with a sweet tooth and a snippy attitude. Asked how his wings are attached, he suggests the inquisitor tug on his own pecker and see how it's stuck on. "An angel who says pecker," Dorothy marvels, not entirely enchanted. Is Michael a hoax, a pathetic freak or the real thing? For a movie about all sorts of warm and gooey things -- faith, surrender to wonder, and the possibility of love in a hard, cold world -- it's got a bracingly astringent edge. The sweetly uplifting PREACHER'S WIFE is this season's more conventional angel movie, but we'd knock back a brew with the angel Michael over the angel Dudley anytime. leave a comment