MICHAEL (1996) *1/2 Out with the truckers and the kickers and the sweathog angels...we'll never know if it even had a chance. Andie MacDowell doesn't deliver a single line convincingly throughout the entire film; John Hurt attacks his with the wild abandon of a Prozac overdose victim. The plot is spare, the action on the nonexistent side of contrived. There is absolutely nothing about John Travolta that suggests transcendence or supernaturalism (so long as you discount Scientologist extraterrestrial intervention to get him the part), but occasionally we do get a nascent flash of Vinnie Barbarino, and too regularly we're subjected to abominable but silly diner-inspired dance moves. Only Jean Stapleton (Edith Bunker from "All in the Family") shines as the soon to be deceased bed & breakfast proprietor from Iowa. Still, I like angel movies. You can probably get yourself more edified by looking out the window or closing your eyes and meditating on angels, but for those generally disinclined this might be a starter kit to get you a few celestial inches in the right direction-there might even be a moral, something along the lines of "Isn't is strange that when angels are with us we don't give them what they want, then we chase them when they move down the line."
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