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Coyote Ugly warms up a potent box office formula: two parts Flashdance, one part Cocktail, a splash of Dirty Dancing and a whole lot of shakin'.
By STEVE PERSALL, Times Film Critic
© St. Petersburg Times, published August 4, 2000
Coyote Ugly is a movie demanding to be graded on the curves of its actors. Not just the five gorgeous women running roughshod over a Manhattan nightclub, but also the cuddly, convex shape of John Goodman.
Don't worry, Goodman doesn't wear skin-tight outfits or clog to Charlie Daniels and Def Leppard while dousing hormonally charged customers with booze. The ladies handle those chores quite nicely, thank you very much.
Goodman plays the concerned father of Violet (Piper Perabo), a bartender at Coyote Ugly, a great name for an even better watering hole. Violet and her partners are good girls just wanting to have fun. They don't take any guff -- or prisoners.
Dads don't always understand. Goodman's bear hug humor and Perabo's sweetness keep the sexual fantasies grounded, making this movie less of a peep show and more of a battle cry for Girl Power.
There is no doubt that these women are in control. They pose as carnal playmates for leering customers, but it's only an act and it never backfires. Once, a guy tried to grope Rachel (Bridget Moynahan). She punched him out, club boss Lil (Maria Bello) tells Violet: "He pressed charges. I gave her a raise." Coyote Ugly is a place where men are auctioned as sex objects and laughed away for their Lothario ways.
One does wonder how much drinks cost at this place, since there's apparently no cover charge and more liquor is sloshed on the counter and customer's chests than in shot glasses. The staff gets away with it safely, with only one beefy bouncer for backup.
First-time director David McNally does a bang-up job with the barroom scenes, matching sharp edits with blasting musical notes, drenching the screen with rowdy sensuality. Such energy is usually devoted in movies to violence and seems much healthier here.
This movie recalls when sexy didn't necessarily mean slutty. Of course, that's in the eye of the beholder. McNally tones down the possibilities through Lil's steadfast rules about deflecting customer advances, settling for lingerie and silhouettes instead of nudity.
Too bad the entire movie couldn't take place inside the bar. Coyote Ugly loses steam when it shoots for a genuine plot, stealing elements from previous trash cinema touchstones. The film was produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, who began his profitable career with Flashdance. Any resemblance between the two movies is purely intentional.
Violet -- renamed "Jersey" for her home state -- wants to be a songwriter as badly as Jennifer Beals wanted to dance. Indifferent recording studios and a pesky case of stage fright stand in her way. That is, until she hops on the bar to sing a Blondie tune to defuse a tense situation. Then she's a maniac, a maniac on the bar and she's singing like she never sang before. What a feeling.
The bottle-juggling routines are straight out of Cocktail. Hip-wiggling dance interludes, plus a mushy original song among sure-fire pop music hits, are Dirty Dancing all over again. You almost expect Patrick Swayze to appear, insisting that nobody puts Jersey in a corner.
Each of those inspirations were mediocre movies, at best. But they touched something in young audiences in their time. Coyote Ugly may attain the same devoted following as a naughty, liberating coming-of-age drama. Does it artistically deserve such adoration? No way. Somehow, you shouldn't mind much if it does.
Perabo is going to be a hit with young females, as Beals and Jennifer Grey were in their days. She resembles a waifish Julia Roberts, with the same slender nose, crooked smile and flashpoint eyes. Bello makes a better impression here than in Godzilla. The rest of the Coyotes are merely for show, with Tyra Banks, Melanie Lynskey and Moynahan more concerned with attitude than characterization.
It's going to be interesting to see how audiences respond to Coyote Ugly. Feminist tastes will be split between the power these women exude and the manner used to achieve it. Humorless viewers will cluck and nitpick its inconsistencies. Young moviegoers (that PG-13 rating is obviously calculated) will have a ball.
Me? I'll make no bones about it. I love the women of Coyote Ugly for their bodies. And their mind-set.