Cast: Nicolas Cage, Samuel L. Jackson, Dabney Coleman, Michael Learner, Margaret Colin
Director: Max Frye
Producer: Gary Goetzman
Screenplay: Max Frye
Music: Richard Gibbs
U.S. Distributor: Columbia Pictures
Andrew (Samuel L. Jackson) is a black Pulitzer Prize winning author/activist (with a personality loosely based on Spike Lee's) who has just moved into a house in a wealthy, predominantly-white neighborhood. When a couple of nosy neighbors (Michael Learner, Margaret Colin) believe him to be a burglar, they call the police. Led by an inept chief (Dabney Coleman), the cops trap and nearly kill Andrew in his own house. For damage control after he realizes his mistake, the chief calls in Amos (Nicolas Cage) from the town jail. The deal: if Amos pretends to hold Andrew hostage (thus making it look like all of Andrew's problems were caused by Amos, not the police), he can go free.
Amos and Andrew, the directorial debut of writer Max Frye (Something Wild), contains social commentary, stereotype role reversals, satire of a number of American "institutions", and a deliciously manic performance by Nicolas Cage. Above all, however, it is funny. Unlike most comedies, the jokes succeed more often than they fail, except perhaps during the concluding fifteen minutes, when the movie runs out of gas.
Amidst all of the lunacy and well-timed physical humor, Amos and Andrew still has an opportunity to get across its basic message about the perceptions of the Black Man by White America. Stereotypes are turned on their head -- Amos is the underprivileged criminal and Andrew is the straight-as-an-arrow, law-abiding citizen. The jokes, puns, and satire of Amos and Andrew are effective because they underline, rather than undermine, the premise. There aren't many comedies that can boast a social agenda.
Amos and Andrew should have ended earlier, however, because it falls apart in the last quarter hour. The biting satire drains away as the script plays up the "buddy picture" angle. Like a sprinter in a long-distance race, the film starts out strong, but ends up staggering to its conclusion, winded and worn out. It's not clear whether Frye didn't know how to end his story effectively, or whether he ran out of ideas with a reel left to shoot. Whatever the case, Amos and Andrew suffers as a result.
So, while this picture may not be a master of traditional movie strengths, it uses humor to develop two likeable characters, then uses the constrasts between them to emphasize its anti-racist message. While avoiding the obvious trap of trivializing the issues it champions, Amos and Andrew still isn't an unqualified success. The sloppy ending undercuts much of what has come before, and leaves the viewer with a bad taste in his or her mouth. But, if nothing else, at least the movie offers laughs without being offensive.
© 1993, 1996 James Berardinelli