My review was written in May 1989 after a Cannes Film Festival Market screening.
Martin Sheen's ever-ready support for liberal causes isn't enough to put over "Personal Choice", a sappy, heavy-handed message picture aimed at theaters but too weak to qualify as even a made-for-tv feature.
"Cocoon" author Davod Saperstein offers a lifeless tale of an astronaut (Sheen) stricken with eventually fatal radiation poisoning during his moonwalk on a mid-1970s Apollo mission.
His bitter memories and disillusionment are rekindled when a gung-ho teen (Christian Slater) who idolizes him befriends the hermit-like Sheen while visting his divorced father, who lives nearby. Script contrivance has dad (Robert Foxworth), a NASA scientist who has been laod off, cuing a late-in-film confrontation with Sheen over who really did the work, the space scientists or the flyboys.
Despite the presence of beautiful leading ladies Olivia D'Abo and Sharon Stone (as Slater's and Foxworth's girlfriends), pic is all talk and almost no physical action. Characters remain remote and Saperstein muffs an emotional climax scene by framing a sentimental photo of a character with an in-joke of a "Cocoon" paperback in the foreground.
With cryptic flashbacks of Sheen's moonwalk ladled out every so often, film finally delives it message direct to the camera long after viewers have lost interest: from out in space one can obtain the perspective to see what we're doing on Earth, and want to fix it right now.
Icing on he cake is a laughable cameo by no less than F. Murray Abraham as a wheelchair-bound scientist (injured in an incident with a nasty Japanese whaling ship!) who exhorts us to stop killing the whales. Saperstein's message is, of course, correct and timely, but delivered in a form suitable for showing only at fundraisers attended by the committed.
Sheen is relentlessly earnest and boring, while Slater still displays those annoying Jack Nicholon inflections and mannerims (apparenty internalized) that have plagued his recent roles. If Nicholson had been cast as the astronaut (a la "Terms of Endearment") Slater's idolizing might have come off.
Lensed largely in Vancouve (with a touristy stopoff in Huntsville, Alabama, to visit NASA artifacts), pic is visually bland. A brief special-effects finale looks tacked-on and silly.
Martin Sheen's ever-ready support for liberal causes isn't enough to put over "Personal Choice", a sappy, heavy-handed message picture aimed at theaters but too weak to qualify as even a made-for-tv feature.
"Cocoon" author Davod Saperstein offers a lifeless tale of an astronaut (Sheen) stricken with eventually fatal radiation poisoning during his moonwalk on a mid-1970s Apollo mission.
His bitter memories and disillusionment are rekindled when a gung-ho teen (Christian Slater) who idolizes him befriends the hermit-like Sheen while visting his divorced father, who lives nearby. Script contrivance has dad (Robert Foxworth), a NASA scientist who has been laod off, cuing a late-in-film confrontation with Sheen over who really did the work, the space scientists or the flyboys.
Despite the presence of beautiful leading ladies Olivia D'Abo and Sharon Stone (as Slater's and Foxworth's girlfriends), pic is all talk and almost no physical action. Characters remain remote and Saperstein muffs an emotional climax scene by framing a sentimental photo of a character with an in-joke of a "Cocoon" paperback in the foreground.
With cryptic flashbacks of Sheen's moonwalk ladled out every so often, film finally delives it message direct to the camera long after viewers have lost interest: from out in space one can obtain the perspective to see what we're doing on Earth, and want to fix it right now.
Icing on he cake is a laughable cameo by no less than F. Murray Abraham as a wheelchair-bound scientist (injured in an incident with a nasty Japanese whaling ship!) who exhorts us to stop killing the whales. Saperstein's message is, of course, correct and timely, but delivered in a form suitable for showing only at fundraisers attended by the committed.
Sheen is relentlessly earnest and boring, while Slater still displays those annoying Jack Nicholon inflections and mannerims (apparenty internalized) that have plagued his recent roles. If Nicholson had been cast as the astronaut (a la "Terms of Endearment") Slater's idolizing might have come off.
Lensed largely in Vancouve (with a touristy stopoff in Huntsville, Alabama, to visit NASA artifacts), pic is visually bland. A brief special-effects finale looks tacked-on and silly.