For anyone looking for a prurient Sam Spade or a Peeping Tom's idea of a Raymond Chandler mystery, director John G. Avildsen's very-nearly pornographic crime satire should suffice while also giving character actor Allen Garfield an overdue starring role as a not-so-private dick. Garfield's Jake Masters, on a blackmail/murder case for five G's, always seems to have his pants down, coming down, or about to come down. David Odell's script (adapted, believe it or not, from a novel, "Lie A Little, Die A Little," by Michael Brett) can barely work up the semblance of a storyline, while the naked ladies who cross Jake's path aren't the luscious dames of years-past; Avildsen has filled these roles with cheap and hardened braless babes. The film quickly begins to ape its own rancid scenario (this is literally a 'dirty' movie), but Garfield doesn't notice, making the most of the opportunity. Constantly horny, and wearing an ever-present stingy brim hat and sweaty undershirt (pulled down just far enough to cover his privates), Garfield is in the required raunchy spirit, all right, yet he also has unmistakable star appeal. He's the naughty kid from grade school barely grown up, unable to get information out of a female suspect without unzipping his fly. Avildsen's movie makes no overtures to morality or ethics--he just wants to goose the audience--and he has found the perfect lead for the job. ** from ****
Review of Cry Uncle
