From Publishers Weekly
Film director Levinson (Diner; Rain Man; etc.) returns to Baltimore in a rambling debut about high school buddies trying to cope with grown-up life. It's 1966, and narrator Bobby has decided to ditch law school for a low-paying job at the local TV station, much to his girlfriend's dismay. Enigmatic Neil has declined a deferment and is heading to Vietnam. Ben, one-time "King of the Teenagers," is marrying girlfriend Janet because he's losing his hair and Janet's father has offered him a job in the Cadillac showroom. Odd-couple pals Turk and Eggy are 1950s holdovers marveling at organic foods and loose hippie chicks. The boys help each other deal with it all by meeting at the diner to retell stories they've all heard before. Though Ben presents these anecdotes as sidesplitting or life changing, most come across as pretty dull stuff: a kid plays a pinball machine and doesn't win; the zany diner guys drive a car in reverse and hit some trash cans; Bobby makes up a TV traffic report and gets away with it. From these stories Bobby draws conclusions that are as pedestrian as the episodes themselves: "when we're young we understand so little about what we are"; "[l]ike tears, laughter often comes when you least expect it"; and "destiny is what we make it." It's clear that Levinson is shooting for elegy and wisdom, but even though the Vietnam War and the civil rights movement are mined for drama and relevance, readers will find mostly tedium and platitudes.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From The New Yorker
"Sixty-six" is a sequel of sorts to the film "Diner," Levinson's hit début as a director, which dealt with a group of male friends sorting out life and love in 1959 Baltimore. Here, as the title indicates, the setting is seven years later, but that's about the only change. The characters from the movie have been replaced by a nearly identical set who also hang out in a diner, spinning lazy webs of conversation about women, jobs, politics, and football. Bobby Shine, the narrator, has quit law school to work at a local TV station while his buddies variously get drafted, sell cars, and fight over girls. The scenes in the diner are gently funny, and Levinson's evident affection for his characters makes you want to like them, too, but in the end "Sixty-six" resembles its callow narrator, coming up short on energy, depth, and purpose.
Copyright © 2005
The New Yorker
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