2 Days in the Valley (1996)

Too many moviegoers and critics initially dismissed 2 Days in the Valley as a Pulp Fiction knockoff, and today the movie might best be remembered for Charlize Theron in her big-screen debut as a statuesque gun moll. But this flick deserves better. Writer-director John Herzfeld‘s modest comic thriller bears a passing resemblance to Pulp Fiction, particularly for its quirky characters and multiple storylines, but the similarities end there.

2 Days in the Valley doesn’t possess Tarantino‘s bite, nor does it aspire to it. Bad guys sit in cars and banter here, but their conversations are free of pop-culture references, and Valley‘s most brutal scene is a knockdown, drag-out fight between Theron and Teri Hatcher. Herzfeld tickles the criminal underbelly of the San Fernando Valley, but his worldview is decidedly kinder and gentler.

Over the span of two nights and two days, the film chronicles four seemingly unrelated story threads. James Spader is Lee Woods, a cold, prickly contract killer who uses a stopwatch when interrogating his about-to-be victims. Lee enlists a washed-out mobster (Danny Aiello) to help him pull a hit on womanizing cad Roy Foxx (Peter Horton). Things get messy, however, when they target Foxx in the bedroom of his ex-wife, Becky (Hatcher), an Olympic skier who routinely comes in fourth place.

In another part of the Valley, an acid-tongued British art collector (Greg Cruttwell) is suffering from kidney stones. While painful, it isn’t enough to prevent him from insulting his long-suffering assistant (Glenne Hedley) whom he says won’t ever land a man unless she gets breast implants and liposuction.

Meanwhile, vice cops Alvin and Wes (Jeff Daniels and Eric Stoltz, respectively) are casing an Asian massage parlor. Wes, a wannabe homicide detective posing as a customer, doesn’t have the heart to bust the Vietnamese woman who goes to work on him. Alvin isn’t so solicitous, vowing to rid the area of “slant-eyed whores.” Both men will find themselves ensnared in a more ominous situation when they are flagged down by a traumatized Becky Foxx.

Finally, Paul Mazursky is a down-on-his-luck television director and writer who plans to kill himself. But first he needs to find a good home for his beloved pooch, Bogie. He pins his hopes on a nurse (Marsha Mason) he meets at a cemetery.

The talented cast delivers the goods, but the real star is Herzfeld, who intersects his stories in tantalizing ways until tying things together in a worthy climax. His direction is unshowy but taut, his script wry. Herzfeld creates characters with swift, concise strokes – Mason’s nurse likes war movies, Aiello’s gunman is afraid of dogs, etc. It’s not particularly complex, but it nicely scratches a noir itch.

And beyond the sundry murders, kidnappings and meanness lurk a bit of humanity. Herzfeld likes his characters. The film’s shabby heart is personified in Aiello’s hit man, who makes pasta for his victims and proves that chivalry isn’t completely dead. As one character observes, “It’s been my experience, more often than not, that a loser has more honor than a winner.”