Then there's Joe Pesci, not too long after Home Alone and Goodfellas, but also not too long before the outright self-parody of 8 Heads in a Duffel Bag. Marisa Tomei, coming out of a string of small parts of no real note. Ralph Macchio, not quite long enough after The Karate Kid to have re-acquired any cultural appeal. And Fred Gwynne in a prominent role? This movie should have been an outright catastrophe, come to think of it. And while it may be horrifically uncool to say so, My Cousin Vinny is absolutely the equal of classic banter-based comedies like The Thin Man. It's a great film, one where everything gels organically even when contrivances are employed. The screenplay is dauntingly clever, the casting is perfect, the performances are uniformly winning. The direction is sitcom-esque in its mere competence, but it has no reason to be any bit flashier. And though this isn't one of those movies where you belly-laugh throughout, each scene is charming and full of amusing nuances. Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are to find myself heralding My Cousin Vinny as a bona-fide classic. But watch it again, putting your hindsighted perceptions of Pesci and Tomei aside, and see if you disagree. I'll even go as far as saying it should have been the first in a very good series of Cousin Vinny movies! But then, perhaps it's best they left it at only the one. This film ropes me in every time, despite a curious phenomenon in which I subsequently forget how good it is and even begin to consider it a lame-ass Hollywood comedy like Doc Hollywood. Whereupon I see it again at some point, and I'm surprised once more to find it completely delightful. Hence, I want to go on record here and now, registering the very unpopular critical view of MCV as one for the ages. Pesci is wonderful as the hapless lawyer called down to rural Alabama to defend his cousin Billy (Macchio) and his friend on a murder charge. Despite loads of circumstantial evidence, his own stubbornness and/or ineptitude, and the unforgiving prejudices of the judge (Gwynne) and jury, tenacious Pesci manages to chip away at the evidence, revealing a brilliant, if unrefined, mind at work. Meanwhile, he spars with his long-suffering girlfriend (Tomei) over all the things long-term couples struggle with while on a high-stress road trip. Tomei is every bit Pesci's match in an astoundingly funny performance that won her a much-deserved Oscar™. The pair have a totally sweet yet combustible chemistry, like Nick and Nora Charles by way of Scorsese. Although 1992 was probably the last year a film might have been able to credibly pair Pesci and Tomei as lovers without it seeming kinda gross. If the premise is a bit corny, the execution is nearly flawless, making for one of the funniest courtroom movies ever. It's unfashionable to say so now, of course, but in 50 years people will still be laughing along with this film, and still scratching their heads wondering whatever happened to Marisa Tomei.
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