Love blossoms in the gutter when a shabby skid row derelict meets an alcoholic floozy in the bars of outer LA, but don't be dismayed by all the rampant sleaze: despite the vivid atmosphere of cheap booze and wasted lives this unique and unusual film represents a minor triumph of comic nonconformity. The script was written by low-life poet Charles Bukowski and is filled with all his favorite things: winos, hookers, losers, and a "wet rat in the rain", played to perfection by Mickey Roarke, who with his flabby posture and smooth beatnik whisper gives the character more humor and humanity than Bukowski may have intended. Give Roarke credit for choosing to appear in such an unflattering role, but this is no ordinary bum. He's a philosopher drunkard who listens to Mozart and Mahler when he isn't picking a fight or puking in an alley after one drink too many, a man whose total freedom from responsibility gives him the power to be completely spontaneous. Faye Dunaway isn't allowed the same depth of character, but together they help make this one of the few films for which the word skuzzy can aptly be used as a compliment.
