“Cocktail” (1988)

Cocktail

Grade: C-

Vapid, problematic and — worst of all — lacking entertainment, Cocktail is a dumb yuppie fantasy about manifesting the American dream: move to Manhattan, drop out of business school, pull a bartending scam in Jamaica, knock up a rich girl and live happily ever after. If it weren’t for Tom Cruise’s infectious naïveté, Cocktail would be among the worst movies of the 1980s.

Directing:

Australian/New Zealander filmmaker Roger Donaldson directs Cocktail with enough glossy sheen to at least make the movie half-way watchable. The high production values are occasionally eye-catching: the benefits of a sexy cast and on-location shooting in the Caribbean. But if you don’t care about none of that, then you might as well drink yourself blind. Cocktail offers little in terms of plot or imagination. Before long, Donaldson’s corporate visuals become blander than milquetoast.

Acting:

Cruise plays main character Brian Flanagan in the only way he knows how: dumb and handsome enough to turn obliviousness into earnestness. Trapped in a nonsensical story that throws all logic out the window, Cruise’s Flanagan — an aspiring millionaire — is a charming mix of peppy and preppy. The fact he doesn’t seem to realize the stupidity of his actions is somehow believable. All he wants to do is flip bottles and fuck.

The rest of the cast is serviceable, hindered by emotions that never make sense. Brian Brown as Flanagan’s stern, stupid and overall shitty Australian mentor; Elisabeth Shue as the girl that Flanagan gets pregnant — two decent actors playing two terrible characters. Not much they could do.

Writing:

The premise of Cocktail is: bartenders! Unfortunately, impossibly, the movie never evolved past that. No concept, no storyline; literally just a premise. You’d think screenwriter Heywood Gould — who also wrote the same-named novel on which the film is based — would have a better grasp on the source material.

But, alas, there is no purpose for this film. Every relationship is toxic, every message backwards, every character annoying. There’s not a single shred of self-awareness to be found. Neither satire nor comedy nor romance nor drama, neither glorification nor condemnation, Cocktail is too inoffensive to be funny and too brainless to notice there’s nothing upstairs. It’s not even really about bartending, for fuck’s sake!

Music:

What’s worse: Cocktail or “Kokomo”? I’ll give Donaldson and Gould a point here, since the infamous Beach Boys single is heard only in a short snippet. But I’ll deduct two because they use the song genuinely. And maybe I’ll add one back because of how inane the combination is. Bad art sticks together.

Ending (SPOILERS):

After lying, cheating and manipulating his way back into Elizabeth Shue’s heart — and after the random suicide of his mentor (which is so out-of-place that it seems like a murder) inspires him to ask for loans from wealthy relatives rather than start a business on his own — Flanagan finally settles down as a not-so-humble bartender at a local dive. Maybe there’s some social commentary after all…but only if you’re six or seven Red Eyes deep.

“The Singapore sling. The dingaling.” — Brian Flanagan

Why Cocktail gets a C-

Romanticizes greed and reinforces sexism without the coolness of Cruise’s own Risky Business (1983) or the over-the-top extreme fun of Swayze’s Road House (1989). Instead, just plain ‘80s embarrassing like Schumacher’s St. Elmo’s Fire (1985).

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