Very few movies can be considered timeless, often because the slightest misstep can place a prominent date-stamp on a film's proverbial forehead. I'm thinking specifically of Paul Reiser's plaid shirt in James Cameron's Aliens. A single garment dates the entire movie and we're left with either a sense of nostalgia or collective embarrassment depending on how the late 1980s went for you (although one could conceivably argue that Reiser's very presence achieves this feat with or without the shirt). Still, I'm impressed with Cameron's near-miss at creating an aesthetic that holds up to future scrutiny. Trapped in Paradise resides on the opposite end of the spectrum: absolutely everything in this Nic Cage/Jon Lovitz/Dana Carvey buddy-film screams 1994, especially the presence of Lovitz and Carvey. It exists in a time capsule, but not in a good way.
Cage, Lovitz, and Carvey are the Firpo brothers. Cage is a Catholic-guilt-ridden restaurant manager doing his best to resist the easy money of less respectable pursuits; in the movie's opening scene he finds a wallet but mails it to its owner after discovering the family pictures inside. Lovitz, a pathological liar, and Carvey, a kleptomaniac who may or may not have a developmental disorder (I remain unclear on this), are two-bit criminals given an early parole whose modus operandi seems to be to drive their straight-edge brother to an aneurysm.
I use the term “straight-edge” here loosely. Barely 20 minutes pass before Cage's low life siblings have convinced him to abandon his morals and begin plotting a bank robbery with them.
And what untold riches entice this man away from his honourable path? $275 000 and a clearly fabricated tale about a cell mate's estranged daughter. I understand how inflation works—again, I'm using the term “understand” loosely—and, yes, that's still a lot of money today, but even in 1994 I probably would have needed a larger sum to risk the anus-breaking wrath of the American penal system.
Once one views this movie as a whole Cage's brash change of heart makes more sense. If we were to ascribe some kind of moral lesson to Trapped in Paradise it would be that people can and will change under the proper circumstances. After the success of their decidedly amateur larceny, a heavy snowstorm sees the Firpo brothers stranded in the small town they just robbed and at the mercy of the caricature-worthy hospitality of the locals.
Of course, the Firpo brothers aren't fundamentally bad people, they just happen to appreciate the finer points of the art of thievery. At one point they sacrifice certain escape to save a horse from falling through thin ice. Werner Herzog and Michael Cimino would have just said “fuck that horse”. The bulk of the movie thus sees them struggle with the guilt of having taken advantage of such decent people. While it all ends in typical family-friendly fashion with the anti-heroes' redemption, I'm unconvinced that the characters this movie has established wouldn't do it all again if the right score presented itself.
Aside from the moral ambiguity underlying the film's protagonists, writer/director George Gallo makes some very odd choices with his characters. I suppose the early-90s were the height of Dana Carvey's popularity, but roles like this certainly helped drive him deep into the C-list. I'm sure it's not all Carvey's fault, but the character he portrays here is absolutely fucking excruciating to watch. He speaks in a strange New York/possibly mentally challenged accent that's as equally distracting as it is grating. It's to the point where Cage's frequent near-freak outs (he never seems to fully commit) and Lovitz's signature-but-one-note delivery go almost completely unnoticed because you want to drill a hole through your eardrums.
There have been enough heist comedies throughout the years that Trapped in Paradise can take it's rightful place in the annals of obscurity. It's not that this is a terrible movie, it's just that it's so forgetful that the only memorable aspects of this film are also the most irritating, which isn't exactly the most enthusiastic endorsement. I've always maintained that it's much more worthwhile to watch an incompetent movie than a mediocre one, and Trapped in Paradise does little but reinforce this notion.
