And yet that doesn't make it bad. I've always tried to adopt a generic approach to the movies, judging each film in terms of its type and the expectations we have for it. And "True Romance," which feels at times like a fire sale down at the cliche factory, is made with such energy, such high spirits, such an enchanting goofiness, that it's impossible to resist. Check your brains at the door.
The movie's hero, Clarence, played by Christian Slater, is perhaps something like the target audience member for the movie. He works in a comic book store, spends his free time watching kung fu triple-features, and can hardly believe it when a blonde in a low-cut garbanzo-flaunter walks into his life.
Her name is Alabama (uh, huh) and she's played by Patricia Arquette. I guess it goes without saying that she's a hooker; that's the only profession available to the women in a movie like this, and is sort of convenient, because it means she doesn't have any regular hours, no parents, and is available, at least for a price. Of course such hookers, in such movies, never charge the hero anything; Clarence exudes a magnetic appeal that transcends commerce, I guess, like Billy Idol over at Heidi's house.
Alabama is actually a bit of an innocent. She's only been a hooker for four days (or four clients, I forget), but that has been long enough for her to pick up a vicious pimp (Gary Oldman), who Clarence has to deal with. Clarence is courageous and stupid, two invaluable assets in this situation, and eliminates the pimp in a prelude to a cross-country odyssey, after, in a series of tortured plot manipulations, he and Alabama have come into possession of $5 million of the mob's cocaine, which they plan to sell at a discount, before flying to Rio.
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