The Naked Man

Did you hear about the Coen brother (singular) film, The Naked Man? You know, the one with Michael Rapaport as a small-town chiropractor (by day) who wrestles (by night) under the titular moniker? No? I'm not surprised. One of the Coen brothers' (plural) storyboard artists, J. Todd Anderson, directs this tone-deaf (comedy? tragedy? farce?) belly-flop co-scripted by Ethan Coen, in which Ed Bliss (Rapaport), a self-proclaimed chiropractic preacher of "spinal integrity" goes on a violent philosophical rampage (re-aligning spines and spouting gibberish) after his drug-store owning father, his mother and pregnant wife are gunned down by a paraplegic pharmaceutical mobster and his pal, an Elvis impersonator. My 50 cent Kreskin mind-meld cap tells me you're thinking that this sounds like a fanciful bit of indie sexysmartcool and, hey, all I can say is that--to quote the Clash--"that is a wrong-em boy-o." Consider yourself warned. Not recommended. (R. Pitman)