The film version of the popular novel should have been so much better, but certain elements of the script and Michael J. Fox's performance prevented from achieving the goals that is strive for. Even if you try to put the memory of Alex Keaton out of your mind, Fox never seems like someone addicted to weekend partying with too much booze and drugs, sleeping through Sunday and waking up late on Monday. He always looks too well rested even if he flies out of bed when his phone rings to indicate that he's late. Another issue is that he doesn't seem to be making an effort to do his job to the best of his ability, and it's not because of burnout. How are you supposed to emphasized with a character that narcissistic and lost in his own world of self-pity?

While his personal life really isn't all that interesting, the characters he works with really are, from the wisecracking Alec Mapa to concerned Swoosie Kurtz to tough boss Frances Sternhagen. It's the later two who walked off with acting honors, with Kurtz a beautiful mother courage type who looks after him since he lost his own mother, Dianne Wiest, seen in flashbacks, to cancer. Sternhagen, one of the great scene Stealers of stage and screen, is tough, but she's not Miranda Priestly from "The Devil Wears Prada" here. When she has to let him go, you can see it's with regret, and her toughness is basically a facade based on the position that she is in. She seems to be emulating the voice and mannerisms of Lois Kibbee from "The Edge of Night", and I really wanted to see more of her and to get to know her character.

There's also John Houseman as the head of the company and Jason Robards as another executive, but I never completely sure what he does. His role seems to be just to show up drunk and take Fox out for liquid lunches. The character is Keifer Sutherland isn't very likable either, an enabler whose participation in the plot seems to be to get Fox into trouble. A scene involving a ferret that fox bought from drug dealer William Hickey, utilized as revenge against Sternhagen, is juvenile and cruel. Phoebe Cates has a superfluous role as Fox's girlfriend whom he finds out used him, completely unnecessary to the story.

This film has a lot of great things, but falls short simply because it never truly rings truthful. The New York location footage from the 80's is interesting, showing a very different looking Sheridan Square subway station, bits of Bryant Park and the club scene that hasn't seemed to have changed much. Fox really tries to get past the image of his TV character, but he did a better job with a comic version of the same theme, "The Secret of My Success". Wiest, fresh off her first Oscar, is basically a walk-on, something I found truly disappointing when I saw this 30 something years ago. The excesses of the 1980's are presented realistically though, but it's hard to have an interest in a movie where you can't really root for the lead character.

In NYC, Jamie Conway (Michael J. Fox) is drinking and doing drugs until the clubs close. He had lied about being fluent in French and has a fact-checking job on Gotham Magazine. His boss Clara (Frances Sternhagen) has a rush French job expecting him to fail. His co-worker Megan (Swoosie Kurtz) tries to help him. His best friend Tad Allagash (Kiefer Sutherland) is even worst. His model wife Amanda (Phoebe Cates) had left him behind for Paris and he's still struggling with his mother (Dianne Wiest)'s death. He becomes obsessed with a New York Post story about a coma baby. He gets set up on a date with Vicky (Tracy Pollan) by Tad.

It's the last directing effort for James Bridges. It's not nearly as cheesy as Perfect but he's been on a downward slide for awhile. The biggest problem is that Michael J. Fox doesn't fit this role. He doesn't have the required darkness. He has a beautiful lightness that can't be extinguished no matter how hard he tries. Otherwise, the movie has the overall sense of a time and a place. With Kiefer Sutherland in the lead, this could have been something special.

"Bright Lights, Big City" bears a simple premise - Michael J. Fox spends his nights in drug-fueled debauchery while his day-to-day slowly implodes - and I have to admit, I was expecting something a bit closer to "Less Than Zero". But this is less about his abuse and more about the consequences: the dismal job performance, the marriage in ruins. There's real sadness here (like seeing him pour out his heart to his secretary (Swoosie Kurtz) - but it's never harrowing. And it's a pretty good vehicle for Fox to play completely against type. More often than not, he's surviving the damage from the night before and he does it well. He makes it easy to root for sobriety.

7/10