3000 Miles To Graceland review

3,000 Miles to Graceland is like a disappointing Elvis greatest hits compilation that you pick up cheaply at a service station: when it's good it's really good but when the King starts singing songs you've never heard of you question whether or not you've spent your money wisely.

This is a confused film that's never quite sure what it wants to be: it's a road movie cum buddy flick cum heist thriller cum comedy, but it spreads itself far too thinly in trying to please everyone. Still, the pure joy of seeing Kevin Costner in full Elvis regalia (and we're talking fat Elvis period here) and not taking himself too seriously for once makes it an experience that is not altogether worthless.

Murphy (Costner) and Michael (Russell) are recent parolees holed up just outside Las Vegas with a bunch of Elvis outfits and a plan. Along with a few cohorts (including completely wasted roles for Christian Slater and David Arquette, who appears to have a mandatory clause in his contract to appear in every Courtney Cox movie) and armed with guns inside their guitar cases they hold up Vegas' biggest casino on the night of its annual Elvis convention. This is by far the most spectacular and successful part of the movie and is directed with colourful flair by first-time helmer Demian Lichtenstein. When the gang is spotted on security cams and chased by guards, violence erupts, and it is a pretty bloody affair as the bandits slay everyone in their sights to get out of the building alive.

Get out they do, and from here on the movie takes a seriously downward turn. After some predictable deception the gang is reduced to just Costner and Russell and they begin to double cross each other over the bag containing the casino money. If the filmmakers had just followed these two and packed it all into ninety minutes it might all have worked better. Unfortunately they decided to introduce Courtney Cox (with whom Russell had a brief fling before the heist) into the affair. It transpires that Cox is also out for herself and also wants a chunk of the cash and is prepared to corrupt her young son in order to get what she wants.

These four proceed to crisscross the country stealing the money off each other, but it soon becomes heavyhanded and somewhat tedious. Chased down by a couple of FBI agents (nifty support from Kevin Pollak and Thomas Haden Church) the inevitable shootout comes far later than it should. It's yet another film that doesn't know how to end and by the time it does the audience is past caring.

On the plus side, Russell is a natural Elvis (he played the King in a 1979 TV movie) but Costner is the real surprise: far more of a villain than in anything he's done before but with his tongue firmly in his cheek in his absolute determination to embody the spirit of Elvis. Cox's character is both unbelievable and tiresome and her performance fails to radiate. Overall, the whole package is more of a return to sender rather than jailhouse rock.