In the '60s, Frank Sinatra and his cronies Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Peter Lawford and Joey Bishop established a form of bourgeois hedonism that once again, since Sinatra's recent death, has become an object of fascination. Unfortunately, the timing of the film is the best thing about it. Despite some flashes of style, particularly in set design, it's an oddly dutiful account of Sinatra's life during this period. The story is familiar; the actors (Ray Liotta as Sinatra, Joe Mantegna as Martin) fail to generate electricity, and the script contains some real embarrassments. Would J.F.K. really have compared Marilyn Monroe...
The Rat Pack
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