Hack the Planet

Yesterday, I forgot my badge at home.

It's not a big deal, really. My badge is this photo ID with an accompanying magnetic card that allows me to get into my building. The picture's not bad, although it is a little strange that everyone I talk to all day is equally represented by small color photos around their necks. One day, we'll do away with current forms of communication, put all of our badges on a conference room table, and let them doing the talking for us. That give my mouth more time to eat this bagel on my desk that I haven't yet gotten to.

(I am so off-topic right now. You know I'm not going after badge reform today.)

When you leave your badge at home, you pay the price. By paying the price, I mean stand in the lobby to get a temp badge from the uberfriendly reception staff. By lobby, I mean the throngs of people milling about uneasily, waiting in line for medical attention. By medical attention, I mean SAIC-issued annual flu shot.

(Getting closer to my point. Man, I'm wordy.)

When I saw this yesterday, I became cursed. (It seems to be en vogue this time of year.) All day long a haunting voice blared on inside my head. Not just any voice; the voice of the worst female acting performance I have ever seen.

"RAB-bit, FLU-shot, someONE TALK to ME."

For Lorraine Bracco, the early 90s were a sinking ship. It started off so well for the model turned actress - she played Ray Liotta's wife in the 1990 hit Goodfellas. This was the apex. After an ugly divorce with Harvey Keitel, several movies who can't crack the IMDB 6.0 Line of Mediocrity (Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Medicine Man, Switch), and co-starring with who would become her second divorce years later, Bracco landed in the Ian Softley project, Hackers.

I like Hackers. It's one of those movies that can get put on anytime, anyplace, and be entertaining. It's got early screen time for Angelina Jolie, Matthew Lillard, and Mr. J-Lo.

Unfortunately, it also has Lorraine Bracco.

Bracco plays a high-powered executive for energy company that will go nameless (because I can't remember its name. Ellington?) She and the corporate network specialist (Fisher Stevens) find a way to skim millions of dollars out of the company drink. The plot centers around a group of meddling kids who use their technological savvy and 28.8 bps modems to try and take down big business and Ms. Bracco.

(Matthew Lillard honed his meddling chops in this flick. He would go on to meddle in the Scooby-Doo movies. Man, can that guy meddle.)

Despite all the makings of a cinema classic (as well as Razor and Blade), Lorraine Bracco steals the show. She then puts the show in a cardboard box, sets it on fire, and kicks it down a rocky hill. Her delivery is just atrocious. It's mainly the inflection that gets me. Her dialogue is spoken as if she was hopping on one foot on a sheet of ice: up and down with the potential for falling flat on its face. Let's not forget the distorted facial expressions. Kind of made me want more scenes to take place at night. Or in a dark room. Or in a black hole. Anything.

So if tonight you want agonizing moments of gut-wrenching tension, watch Game 7. If you want some more tomorrow (masochists, all of you), please watch Lorraine Bracco try to ruin Hackers.