NUN TOO GOOD

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SISTER ACT
starring Whoopi Goldberg
1992
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This past November, I was in Reno, Nevada. Mrs. Van Owen, the shuttle driver who picked me up at the airport (women are always picking me up) pointed out the Saint Thomas Aquinas Cathedral as she was pulling into my hotel's parking lot, and she said, "That's the church they used in the movie SISTER ACT." Had it been ANY other church, I would have thought: Great, now how much do the video poker machines pay out on four deuces here?
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But it just so happens that when I was in Reno on August 12, 2001, Jesus sent me to the Saint Thomas Aquinas Cathedral (although I'm not Catholic) where I was the only White person to be found in the pews, and where I observed a Catholic mass delivered entirely in Spanish. (The only Spanish I know is "Si", "No", and some words that Ricky Garcia called me in junior high school.) I kept thinking: Nice music, Lord, but why did You send me here? It wasn't until the mass ended, and I exited the church, that He revealed His purpose: On the steps of that very cathedral, Jesus, with a "miraclette", answered an important and troubling question that I'd been praying about for an entire month. (That's a story for another review.) So when my shuttle driver mentioned that particular church being used in the movie SISTER ACT, I determined to rent the 1992, WHOOPI GOLDBERG vehicle upon my return to Airheadzona. I'm back and I did.
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Now, I grew tired of Goldberg's sassy, mono-note shtick a long time ago ("You want me to do WHAT?! Uh-uh. You got the WRONG woman, fool!"), so I wasn't expecting much, and my expectations were met but not exceeded. I knew this thing was going to be nun too good when I saw Harvey Keitel mentioned in the opening credits. (I have a rule of thumb: "Avoid EVERYTHING with Harvey Keitel in it." But since there's an exception to almost every rule, I'll add, "except maybe TAXI DRIVER.")
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SISTER ACT's bad habits started immediately: It opens with a scene at "Saint Anne's Academy in 1968" (with the Saint Thomas Aquinas Cathedral playing the part of Saint Anne's Academy in one brief shot. Boo! I rented THIS movie for THAT?) Here we find Deloris Van Cartier (later played by Goldberg) as a youngster being asked by a nun to name the apostles. She gives a "Fabulous" (but incorrect) answer. Cut to Van Cartier many years later performing as the leader in a girl group retro act at a Reno lounge, and showing great unhappiness at being ignored by the nearby boozers and gamblers. Is it really unusual for free entertainment on a casino floor to go scarcely noticed? Would this REALLY upset a longtime lounge singer? Wouldn't she be used to the lack of attention while on stage by now? It would be the norm; just another day, just another paycheck. We've got nonsense right out of the chute, I thought.
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The two-bit Reno nightclub singer, Van Cartier, accidentally witnesses her boyfriend, Vince LaRocca, orchestrate a young man's murder. (HARVEY KEITEL plays the evidently sight-challenged mobster. He couldn't find a more attractive two-bit nightclub singer in all of Reno? Please!) Now Van Cartier is (a soon-to-be nun) on the run.
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Until LaRocca's murder charge comes up for trial, Lieutenant Eddie Souther (BILL NUNN, who must have gotten the part based only on his last name) places Van Cartier in a convent under the Witness Protection Program. The hulking Nunn is horribly miscast and gives a downright embarrassing performance as a lawman. Trying to pass this guy off as a street-hardened, high-ranking law enforcement officer is like trying to pass off Garfield the cat as a police dog! Nunn plays most scenes with this goofy "oh-you-kid" grin. (Sit down, Lieutentant, before you hurt yourself!)
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Meanwhile, gangster LaRocca - awaiting his murder trial, yet incredibly free to roam the city (What? Did he have a "Get Out Of Jail" card tucked into his "violin case"?) - and his two un-intimidating, geriatric hitmen, are trying to locate Van Cartier to enunciate with gunfire their displeasure at her willingness to testify.
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In the convent, Van Cartier's life is adhering to the typical Hollywood formula - "the outcast finds her niche and makes good" paint-by-numbers kit. You know the gig! And we're treated to all the usual: Tough and/or cool street people in ridiculously exaggerated "tough and/or cool street people" costumes (how about just T-shirts and jeans, folks? You know, like REAL people on the street wear?); the gag where three guys simultaneously rush through a small opening and momentarily get stuck a la The Three Stooges (Har!-Har!-Har!); and of course, the obligatory and ubiquitous bit where the guys take it in the "family jewels" while the heroine makes good her escape. (The nutcracker shtick ceased to be fresh and funny about 1976, but they're still feeding it to us regularly because, you know, there's little genuine writing talent in Tinsel Town. Or haven't you noticed?)
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There are about 101 additional problems with this act, Sisters and Brothers, but there's no point in listing them all; it's not like you're going to pay attention to anything I say anyway. (The nuns fly to Reno to rescue Van Cartier because... uhm... there was no way to telephone Reno Law Enforcement? That's just a guess on my part. "Ain't nun of ya in the habit of keeping any spare change around, pray tell?")
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I did enjoy the clever musical arrangements, and Goldberg's prayer before supper at the convent was appropriately inappropriate. But I loved Mary Wickes in the minor role of Sister Mary Lazarus, the ancient but tough-as-General MacArthur nun. I thought she had the best lines in the movie. ("I liked my convent in Vancouver, out in the woods. It wasn't all modern like some of these newfangled convents. We didn't have electricity - cold water, bare feet - THOSE were nuns!... it was hell on earth. I loved it! This place is a Hilton.") You go, Sister! Discipline those Pillsbury Dough Boy-soft troops!
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Still, I can think of better uses for my time than watching SISTER ACT. (Sleeping, eating, reading, and writing a negative review of SISTER ACT all come immediately to mind.) Hey, I love a fun, stupid comedy (e.g., 'The Pink Panther Strikes Again' or 'Monty Python And The Holy Grail'), but because it actually asks us to accept as plausible its preposterous scenario, SISTER ACT is dumber than a lobotomized moron with paralyzed vocal cords. Making it, of course, the ideal movie for post-literate America. Whoopi!!
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(I hear what you're thinking: Why is he always knocking America? But I'm not! I'm always criticizing America, and there's a difference: 2 more syllables and 3 more letters!)
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~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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