In 1972 Ohio, a teenage boy kidnaps Elvis Presley after a concert in Cleveland and takes him home (in his pink Cadillac!) to cheer up his divorced mom, despondent after a fight with her latest boyfriend. David Keith doesn't look like Elvis--he doesn't even fill out the infamous bejeweled white jumpsuit efficiently--however, he has obviously studied Presley's mannerisms and vocal rhythms, and does well in the part after an unconvincing introduction. It takes a leap of faith to believe in this nostalgic fable, but Keith enthusiastically carries it to its inevitable conclusion, carving out his own impersonation under the black Elvis wig. Also fine is Tuesday Weld (a former Presley co-star) as the long-time Elvis fan amazed to find her idol in her home, a dilapidated hotel called the Flaming Star. Weld isn't well-lit or flatteringly photographed, however her age works in her favor here (she's credible playing the mother of growing kids, not like a 30-something passing herself off as the burnt-out mother of two). Besides the leaden opening and awful kidnapping sequence (which is laboriously contrived by writer-director Chris Columbus), the weakest link in the film are the teenagers. Charlie Schlatter must have studied Elvis, too, but not in a way that was helpful; with his perpetually disgusted expressions (so teenage!) and self-conscious sneer, he's like an anchor on these wafty-fantastic proceedings (I don't think Schlatter is ever in character here, but then he wasn't given much help from Columbus' limited conception of the kid). The other young actors are also tiresome, but when Columbus finally gets down to business and allows the star-smitten mom a few private moments with her very own superstar, he manages to enchant us with a little plastic magic. **1/2 from ****
Review of Heartbreak Hotel
