Its fair to say that Telling Lies In America has its fair share of cliches. Those little cornets every coming of age film has to play. You have your hypocritical teacher/priest, your unattainable female Diney, her overbearing suitor Henry (Luke Wilson) and most importantly, Billy Magic (Kevin Bacon). Magic is one of those characters most filmgoers could draw from memory; the slicked back hair, the envy inducing array of lady-friends, babbling on his radio show in his all important "slanguage" while he offers his listeners some "ear conditioning" on a particularly hot day. Karchy is in awe of him. Except that the film wastes no time in exposing Magic as damaged goods. And Bacon, in some wry moments lets some of the man's bitterness show. Magic seems to like Karchy too, maybe he sees himself in the kid who can't help but showoff all the time. Or more ominously, he sees a profitable way to employ Karchy's masterful aversion to telling the truth.

The director Guy Ferland gives the film a luminous, late 50s early 60s memorabilia rich look. The score by Nicholas Pixe, a trickling of organ, is stated only in the film's key scenes. It's a good sign, especially in a period film, when the direction and the music only impress in retrospect, rather then stick out and draw attention to themselves. They work in congruence with the story. The effect is that of nostalgia. Not hokey nostalgia, but the memories of growing up, with its highs and lows compressed into a hypnotic two hours. The cliches are not cliches if they're happening to and around people you know.

Telling Lies in America will touch those nerve endings that responded to Barry Levinson's Diner. Even if this one isn't as witty with its dialogue or as generous with its guffaws, I like it better. I like the way Eszterhas weaves the humor of the Spanish fly episode, the familiar tale of a self-loathing bully into the story of a kid who just wants to be liked, without stepping into one saccharine puddle. Right up to it bittersweet ending, the film never hits a false note. It maybe ironic, that Karchy who is essentially a stand in for Esztherhas learns that he "doesn't have to showoff so much", has spawned the writer who would write a lot of showoffy trash. You'd think that it would take a very special film for me to forgive Showgirls. Luckily for him, this one is.

Maximillian Schell is back on the screen, and welcome as the father of Esterhaz' alter-ego, Karchy Jonas. He is a bit puzzling until you learn that he was a highly educated man in his native Hungary, forced into menial labor in his new country of choice. He has instilled his belief in the power of being an American citizen in his son, Karchy, played by Brad Renfro. Renfro is believable and gives a delicious naivete to the role of Karchy, both in his words and deeds. His relationship to an older woman, Diney (Calista Flockhart looking real, not just cute) makes sense when you see how much she yearns for his honesty and his sense of wonder. Despite a high ethical standard set by his father, Karchy is a noted fabricator of fibs. Everyone who hears his stock line "Lots of times", knows he is lying.

Enter Kevin Bacon, the perfect Svengali for a boy looking to become a man in the "coolest" way possible. Bacon is a hot disc jockey, whose personal code of honor is questionable. There is no question that this is one of his strongest performances ever. From body language to his Texas twang, his regret at how his life turned out (from a brief glimpse he shares late in the movie) makes him a standout playing an early 60's "lounge lizard". Bacon has a fine portfolio of work, but this is his ultimate role.

Music and set are perfect for this nostalgic look back to the 60's. A great film, underappreciated by many.