Small Time Crooks (Woody Allen, Tracey Ullman) 1/2
Sit back and enjoy Small Time Crooks for what it is: a light comedy about a couple of small time crooks. Forget that some of the slapstick territory is familiar, and that it isn't as cerebral as other Woody Allen flicks: sometimes you just gotta let loose and act silly. Really silly.
Allen is Ray Winkler, an ex-con who dreams of robbing a bank. Tracey Ullman plays Ray's wife Frenchy, a woman who dreams of hobnobbing with the well-to-do. Outshining Allen in every scene, Ullman sparkles here and displays an outrageous flair for character and satire. Ray's plan is to rent an empty store next to the bank, open a phony business, and, with the help of some friends, dig a tunnel directly into the vaults and take the money (obviously some concessions must be made in terms of credibility here). His accomplices are the dopey Denny Doyle (Michael Rapaport), Tommy Beal (Tony Darrow), Benny Borkowski (Jon Lovitz) and the truly stunned May (Elaine May). Within a short period, they singlehandedly manage to bust a water valve, break into another store, and tell a police officer about the digging in the basement. With helpers like these, you might as well voluntarily commit yourself to prison.
The story changes when the phony business (Frenchy bakes cookies), takes off in popularity. In fact, the Winklers become exceedingly wealthy, and must now do their best to fit in with a new social class. From this point, the movie becomes quite charming. Frenchy tries in vain to expand her knowledge of art and culture by recruiting a tutor named David Grant (Hugh Grant in a coy, biting turn) and by reading the dictionary (she hilariously spouts off words that begin with "A" to reflect her progress to date). Similar to a Shakespearean comedy, Ray and Frenchy briefly part ways in separate subplots. As Ray plots to steal a valuable necklace, Broadway veteran Elaine Stritch makes a welcome appearance late in the picture as the owner of the item, the doting art collector Chi Chi Potter.
As is the case with many of Allen's outings, there are lots of great lines in Small Time Crooks. Some are muttered out-of-hand, others come off as belaboured, but the writer/director deserves points for keeping the material airy and whimsical. The film is worth the ride if only for the assured performances of Tracey Ullman and Elaine May. Everything else seems to fall into place, suspended on a merry tightrope made of zingers and wacky hijinks.
