Don't go through my briefs: "The Firm"

Sorry for the break, folks. Was away on business in lovely Corpus Christi, Texas. That's "Body of Christ" to you and me, Russ. It's also the Kiteboarding Capital of the World, but you knew that.

Anyway, while lounging in my hotel -- no strip clubs within walking distance -- I caught "The Firm" on HBO. It's probably been about 10 years since I last saw it, and it seemed more overdone than I remembered. Too much star power and Tom Cruise ("Losin' It") mugging for the camera. But then I remembered this was the first of many adaptations of the works of distinguished author John Grisham, and that Cruise was merely the first of many young white guys in black suits running through Southern cities.

When I got over that, "The Firm" was more tolerable. First, you have Gene Hackman not having to carry the movie and generally having a good time. ("I want five passes each time down the floor, Mitch!") There's Holly Hunter as Gary Busey's perky secretary and, later, Cruise's accomplice. And, of course, the highly entertaining Wilford Brimley, paroled from oatmeal duty to play a creepy head of security at Cruise's law firm.

In the end, that alone was worth watching. True, I fell sleep before Cruise kicked the crap out of grandpa from "Our House." (And Mr. Smith from "Remo Williams!") But I thoroughly enjoyed him showing Cruise pictures of Tommy's beach romp with someone other than his wife, and pointing out the "oral and whatnot." Man, if my grandpa had ever said that to me ...