SIX DAYS SEVEN NIGHTS A film review by David N. Butterworth Copyright 1998 David N. Butterworth
** (out of ****)
The most satisfying thing about "Six Days Seven Nights" is the print ads.
Harrison Ford is shown pounding through river water with his shirt unbuttoned to the waist right there alongside Anne Heche, whose blouse is similarly--and predictably--agape.
While this might represent an equitable first in terms of a film's publicity materials, "Six Days Seven Nights" doesn't waste much time in pointing out--via Ford's character Quinn Harris--that Robin Monroe's (Heche) breasts are, in fact, "too small." The audience is in a unique position to argue this fact given that Heche's chest is prominently on display in the film--covered, but under such skimpy tops that one doesn't need a copy of "Gray's Anatomy" to hand to figure out exactly what it is we're looking at.
Add to that fixation the fact that the filmmakers have written Quinn's "assistant" Angelica (Jacqueline Obradors) as a buxom brunette who exposes herself (back to camera, thus upholding the film's PG-13 rated tone) to Robin's fiancé and you've got yourself a lightweight yet singularly top-heavy movie that could have benefited from an ounce of subtlety.
"Six Days Seven Nights" reminds me of a t-shirt I saw once that read "Need a place to rest your head? How about ... MY TITS!"
Ooh yah, broad is what we have here. If the thought of Heche telling Ford not to smile as he attempts to fish a snake out of her shorts makes you smile, then perhaps this movie is for you. They're not the worst pairing in the world, but Bogie and Hepburn bickered a lot better in "The African Queen" (and he never once felt her up from what I can remember). Heck, even Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner made a mismatched duo more deserving of an occasional chuckle in "Romancing the Stone."
What's perhaps most intriguing about "Six Days Seven Nights" is that Heche was cast shortly before going public with her romantic involvement with "Ellen"'s Ellen DeGeneres. The timing of this revelation puts the on-screen chemistry between Heche and Ford under more scrutiny than it can withstand--in the back of our minds we're all wondering what Indiana Jones is doing running around in the jungles of Macataya with Hollywood's latest lesbian.
Not that there's anything wrong with that...
"Forced" is probably the best word to sum up "Six Days Seven Nights." The slightly neurotic New York glamour mag editor and her beau (David Schwimmer) on a week's vacation in the South Pacific. The grizzled, middle-aged pilot who likes his life on the simple side. The emergency photo shoot that puts the two of them on a short plane hop to Tahiti together (can you think of *any* reason why the David Schwimmer character would have stayed behind?). The storm. The forced landing. The broken landing gear. The realization that they're going to be stuck on this island paradise for quite some time now and had better learn to get along. The wacky adventures with wild animals, pirates, and a "but I thought you were dead, honey!" boyfriend. Etc.
Six Days. Seven Nights. Eight dollars wasted.
-- David N. Butterworth dnb@mail.med.upenn.edu
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