I wasn’t surprised to learn that actress-turned-director Toni Kalem’s A Slipping-Down Life, based on Anne Tyler’s 1970 novel, has been sitting on the shelf since 1999. (The author had much better luck with Lawrence Kasdan’s adept version of her 1985 work, The Accidental Tourist.) Better it had not been released at all.

There are myriad problems with Kalem’s adaptation of Tyler’s tome, the most grievous being the age difference between the book’s characters, who are in their late teens, and the lead actors Lili Taylor and Guy Pearce, who were 32 and 31, respectively, at the time. Taylor and Pearce play Eve and “Drumstrings” – the worst nickname since John Travolta’s “Strip” in the monumentally bad ‘70s dud, Moment By Moment. We would be much more inclined to forgive the film’s drab and dated storyline — mousy small-town girl pursues arrogant, moody rock ‘n’ roll singer — if the fumbling, foolish-acting protagonists were inexperienced, aimless kids rather than 30-ish adults who should know better.

Something happens to Evie Decker (Taylor) when she sees the sullen, longhaired Drum perform his, uh, unique brand of music and spoken word at a local club. (Pretentious example of the latter: “If I was on fire, would you burn up with me?”) She’s so taken with him that she carves his last name into her forehead (backwards — the only good idea in the entire film), a bit of self-mutilation Drum’s manager and drummer, David (Identity’s John Hawkes), exploits as a photo-op and promotional gimmick. While initially he is indifferent to Evie, Drum eventually warms to her (largely invisible) charms and gives chase. (“I like how I feel around you,” he says in a typical narcissistic moment.) An unlikely marriage follows, as does the quick unraveling of their stormy relationship.

Pearce (a year away from fame via Memento, though he already had Priscilla Queen of the Desert and L.A. Confidential under his belt) is, as always, a pleasure to look at (greasy locks notwithstanding), but like Taylor (who has her moments but has played this type of character too many times before), he is defeated at every turn by Kalem’s terrible script and lifeless direction. (Don’t even get me started about the terrible songs Drum warbles throughout.) The result is a phony (especially the ending, completely different from Tyler’s), clichéd drama, almost completely devoid of merit save for the delightful presence of Irma P. Hall, playing a sassy housekeeper who recently won an acting award at Cannes for her role in the Coen brothers’ The Ladykillers.

Like the fetid cottage cheese discovered hidden in the back of the refrigerator, A Slipping-Down Life is long past its expiration date and should be immediately tossed. (Hillcrest Cinemas)

“Cigarettes and coffee — that’s a combination,” says Iggy Pop to Tom Waits in the opening of Coffee and Cigarettes. That depends on your point of view.

Iconoclastic independent writer-director Jim Jarmusch (Stranger Than Paradise, Mystery Train, Night on Earth) obviously thought there was something to the teaming of nicotine and caffeine, as he first began this quirky collection of 11 vignettes back in 1986 when he made the short Coffee and Cigarettes, eventually renamed “Strange to Get to Know You”, with Steven Wright and Roberto Benigni (who appeared that same year in Jarmusch’s Down By Law).

Three years later Jarmusch shot the eight-minute Coffee and Cigarettes II (aka Memphis Version), which in C&G is called “Twins” (played by Cinque and Joie Lee, Spike Lee’s siblings), followed in 1993 by Coffee and Cigarettes III (later retitled “Somewhere in California”), featuring Pop and Waits, which went on to win the Best Short award at the Cannes Film Festival that year. Jarmusch, a big alternative music fan and punk-rock lover from way back, is fond of casting rock stars. Pop and Waits have worked for him before, and this time he puts rappers GZA and RZA in pivotal roles, as well as the White Stripes’ Jack and Meg White.

At some point, Jarmusch decided to expand his shorts into a feature-length project. He filmed close to half of the black-and-white segments (most shot by cinematographer Frederick Elmes, one of four DPs) in January of 2003 and stitched everything together in time to screen the finished product last fall at the Toronto International Film Festival.

Was it all worth it? Yes and no. One has to wade through five draggy, inconsequential vignettes before getting to the good stuff: “Cousins”, both portrayed by the always watchable Cate Blanchett (whose timing is a marvel); “Cousins?” (best of the bunch), featuring Alfred Molina and 24 Hour Party People’s Steve Coogan; “Delirium”, a bit of hip-hop silliness salvaged by the ever-amusing Bill Murray; and the surprisingly engaging final offering, “Champage”, spotlighting old-time actors Bill Rice and Taylor Meade, the latter from Andy Warhol’s Lonesome Cowboys (1968). (I was indifferent to “Jack Shows Meg His Tesla Coil”, with Jack and Meg White.) All employ long, static takes using minimal camera setups, with Jarmusch careful to add at least one overhead shot of the title poisons in each. (He also uses snatches of the same dialogue in different sequences, a stylistic device that could make sense only to him.)

Jarmusch, now 51, claims he makes films for his own pleasure and is blissfully unconcerned about their box-office potential. (“I only make movies I want to see,” he once told an interviewer.) Coffee and Cigarettes is a tad more accessible than his other absurdist, sometimes rewarding features (he’s made only eight — nine if you count his 16mm debut, Permanent Vacation). Still, I think his releasing company, MGM/USA, would find the movie an easier sell if he had taken a meat cleaver and excised the first five segments.

(Hillcrest Cinemas)

Carandiru, I’m Not Scared, Kill Bill: Vol.2, Monty Python’s Life of Brian, Shrek 2, Super Size Me, Troy, Van Helsing, Young Adam, Zero Hour

Rating System

**** a must-see

*** good

** average

* poor

BOMB (think Pia Zadora’s Butterfly)

Kyle Counts is the film critic for the Gay & Lesbian Times