Picture a cow in a field. Calmly chewing its cud. Feel the grass slipping from stomach one to stomach two, then into the third tummy, and finally, number four. At this point, the grass has no where to go other than down and out. A week later all that's left in the field from this whole episode is a smelly brown frisbee, used historically by the pioneers for winter's fuel. If AMER!CAN COWSLIP writerdirector Mark David had captured this whole process on film, he no doubt would have produced a superior, far more engrossing flick than the one he expelled here instead. For Rip Torn, Val Kilmer, or Peter Falk, AMER!CAN COWSLIP was just another day at the office. But it's a disservice for the U.S. film community to drag former Hollywood stalwarts such as Diane Ladd or Bruce Dern into sludge of this nature. (And how did Jennifer Coolidge miss this mess--she's still alive, isn't she?) AMER!CAN COWSLIP puts the stew in "stoo-pid," with its mishmash of unbelievable characters spouting lame dialog in totally implausible situations. Hanna Hall as a virginal JUNO wannabe with a creepy attraction for the much older Ethan Inglebrink (Ronnie Gene Blevins) might interest some people. But the actual number is less than even the production of an AMER!CAN COWCHIP would attract.
In Blythe, California, a small town in the remote California desert, Ethan Inglebrink is an eccentric, agoraphobic heroin addict who is obsessed with his garden. This dark comedy follows ...
July 1, 2020