Playing God (1997): Dir: Andy Wilson / Cast: David Duchovny, Timothy Hutton, Angelina Jolie, Peter Stormare, John Hawkes: Intriguing action film about life rendered to the hands of another. David Duchovny stars as a surgeon who loses his license after practicing on a patient while on dope. After a shootout at a bar, he assists a wounded individual using a bottle. This impresses a criminal, played by Timothy Hutton who wishes to employ his services. Duchovny is hired to patch up associates who suddenly end up dying. Great setup grows repetitious but the climax is powerful. Andy Wilson directs with insight with an excellent performance from Duchovny. He is seen as a total wipe out whose life spirals downward after losing his license. Now his skill finds new ground that leaves him asking questions and eventually facing right and wrong. Hutton steals the film as a gangster who employs Duchovny's services to dire orders until the two have a great showdown that presents a strong conclusion. Angelina Jolie as Hutton's girlfriend will obviously become romantically linked to Duchovny and become nothing more than a prop. Other roles are flat and serve mainly as fillers or faceless thug criminal drug dealing idiots. The message regards the value of human life and the idea that nobody can play God but we often destroy what God creates. Score: 7 / 10

Nothing good comes out of "Playing God," a pointless Faustian medical thriller anesthetized with clichés about a busted surgeon whose synthetic heroin habit lands him in with the dregs of the Los Angeles underworld. As "X-Files" actor David Duchovny's first starring role, this mediocre melodrama about redemption and retribution is less than scintillating. Actually, it is downright embarrassing. Ineptly directed and predictably scripted, "Playing God" penalizes both its rising star and moviegoers with implausible plot twists, cornball situations, and klutzy villains. Perhaps if the filmmakers had taken their straight, sober-minded drama and played it as broad comedy the film might have been more entertaining and less moronic. The Mark Haskell Smith screenplay is the stuff of which pulp fiction classics are created. Blazing shoot-outs, careening car chases, smart-aleck dialogue, eccentric criminals, and a blast-from-the-past soundtrack, featuring pop tunes such as the Bee Gee's "Jive Talking," flesh out what essentially constitutes a thin, one-dimensional character study. Under Andy Wilson's lackluster directing, these solid elements make for a soggy saga. A graduate of British TV shows such as "Cracker," Wilson never generates the adrenaline rush or visceral thrills that "Playing God" desperately needs to slam it into hyperkinetic overdrive. The filmmakers plunge their hapless hero into harm's way, but he never appears to be in real jeopardy. Wilson and Smith strive to make the murderous antics in their storyline appear surreal, but these results are hopelessly farcical. Especially annoying is Wilson's obvious video-editing style that employs geometric wipes as transitional bridges between episodes. As a doctor who has fallen from on high, Eugene Sands (David Duchovny) spends his time now getting high. What should qualify as cinematic irony in Smith's script winds up as comical incongruity. One night while he's scoring his junk in a dive of an L.A. bar, Sands witnesses a brutal shooting. When nobody calls 911, Sands intervenes and uses his ingenuity to save the wounded man. As it turns out, the poor slob worked for international smuggler Raymond Blossom (Timothy Hutton). Blossom is a wacky psycho who'd double-cross his own mother on the flip of a coin as well as a fashion designer's nightmare. Sands finds himself suddenly being smothered by Blossom's offer of works and drugs. The young, disadvantaged doctor doesn't know quite what to think. Blossom requires Sands' considerable medical talents to save a Russian hit-man who has information vital to Blossom's criminal interests. Initially, despite some misgivings, Sands agrees to perform the surgery and pocket a cool $10-thousand dollars. Before Sands can cruise into the sunset, a scheming, Dagwood Bumstead-esque FBI agent (Michael Massee) recruits Sands as his material witness to back up the person working undercover in Blossom's motley gang of Metallica rejects. Meanwhile, Blossom's sultry moll Claire (Angelina Jolie) complicates matters. Initially, she admires Sands, but she doesn't trust him. Things go incredibly wrong for everybody when a gang of vengeful Russian hit men invade Blossom's posh premises. They gun down one of Blossom's henchmen and put a bullet through Claire's chest. Before "Playing God" grinds predictably to its harebrained conclusion, the movie has Claire and Sands become lovers. Everything in Smith's script hangs on sudden reversals that are more stultifying than startling. Most ridiculous is Sands' unconvincing metamorphosis from a drugged out, self-depreciating loser to a resourceful, jaw-clenched action hero. Sands' fight with the sharp-shooting show-off Cyril (Andrew Tiernan) in a car is particularly unrealistic. Wilson's efforts to make "Playing God" different are doomed by his derivative approach. He bungles what should have been a minor film noir thriller. The story comes apart early on because the chain of events lacks dramatic cohesion. The final car chase starts out promisingly. Blossom and Claire dive into a truck, and as Sands follows them, two identical trucks breeze into the picture on either side of Blossom's ride. Sadly, Wilson does nothing original here, and the rest of the chase is a yawner. Nothing exciting occurs probably because their low budget couldn't afford any car crashes. The shoot-outs are staged with little panache. Most jarring of all is the surgery vignette enacted on a pool tale in an isolated hillbilly biker bar where Sands doctors the wounded Claire. Meantime, the FBI agents are so incompetent that a couple of brainless bad-guy buffoons can smash into their safe house and blast them into oblivion with little difficulty. The cast struggles with Smith's pseudo-cut dialogue that calls attention to the preposterous nature of the script. In the middle of the climactic car chase, Hutton's villain berates his struggling Claire for trying to disrupt the big auto chase. When movies indulge in self-mockery, you know that you're in trouble as an audience member. Presumably, by letting the characters poke fun at the plot twists, Wilson and Smith both hoped to distract spectators from the contrived quality of the story. Their well-intended attempts backfire miserably, and "Playing God" looks goofy. As the good guy hero who realizes the error of his ways, Duchovny maintains a poker face throughout the laughable proceedings. The filmmakers seem more intent on endorsing a didactic, anti-narcotics message than consistency of character. "Playing God" might have played better had Wilson and Smith kept their outlandish hero more strung out and challenged than straightened out and scrupulous. Duchovny's voice-over narration in the style of the old film noir detective thrillers seems more heavy-handed than handy. Jolie does little more than look pretty and pout her abundant lips. The movie takes a time-out to let the hero and the heroine bond with each other without shedding their clothes. As Sands' scumbag foe, Hutton drums up pathetic nastiness. Credit composer Richard Hartley with contributing a bouncy theme for the film. Die-hard "X-Files" fans beware: Scrub this one.

I know there aren't any ties between Baywatch and this movie. Except that they are shot in California, and more exactly in LA and its surroundings. Those locations struck me strongly while watching this movie. The audience moves as well in downtown than in the country, alternating beach and forest. The views you can find here complete the dreamy, cool ones of Baywatch, and even I didn't go there, I think this movie offers a good picture of the real LA. And really, I don't like very much this environment for a living and I prefer the San Francisco area.Now, the story is original but the gimmick (a doctor for healing thugs) is too much used. After the first one, the script becomes a collection of what-if: what-if the doctor visits junk heads, what if the doctor cures the wife's boss, etc..Then, I am perplexed with the cast: Hutton has really no charisma for a nutty and violent boss. On the contrary, Jolie and above all, Duchvony are excellent. I really appreciate Duchovny, because he is a tall man but he is also quiet. He knows what he wants but he doesn't speak a lot. I like his humor, dry, detached that fits well with his personality. I'am sure that without this hot ticket, this movie would be actually left in limbs.NB: my trailer proposes a love scene between the two but it has been cut from the movie.

It's hard to believe that in 1997 David Duchovny was at the top of his fame, with X-Files, one of the best sci-fi series ever, being at the top of the glory. Nine years later he is almost forgotten, and his tentatives to make it on the big screen failed miserably. I cannot even explain why, he is a fair actor, but probably his moment of fame cast him in a eternal role that takes big talent to break from.At the same time Angelina Jolie was much less known, and she was really lucky that a film like 'Playing God' did not led her career into a dead-end. Fortunately for her, 'The Bone Collector' and 'Girl, Interrupted' were waiting beyond the corner, and when Lara Croft came, her career was launched.There is not too much to be told about this film. It's the only big screen film of Andy Wilson, and there must be a reason. All is banal and most of what happens on the screen expected in this story of an ex-doctor who saves the life of a shooting victim in a bar only to find himself working for the mob. The off-screen voice is especially bad, with a moralistic text that kills any shade of cinematographic experience from the film. You probably will not meet the film but in DVD rental stores, or on TV. Try to look for something better.