Neil Simon's ingratiating boot camp comedy suffers in translation from stage to screen from lackluster direction, murky photography, and a general air of tired over-familiarity. Except for some updated concessions to jaded viewers (raw profanity, some homosexual persecution, the inevitable encounter with a local prostitute) it might almost have been made during the same era it depicts (the latter days of World War II), with only Christopher Walken's sensitively rendered psychotic drill sergeant breaking free of its traditional stereotype. All the expected coming-of-age complications are trimmed and well-fitted, if needlessly reinforced by far too much voice-over narration by Simon's alter ego Matthew Broderick, and the undercurrents of rosy nostalgia are (thankfully) kept in check, making the film a pleasant excuse for idling away ninety minutes on a slow afternoon.
Review of Biloxi Blues
