A married bonds trader on Wall Street, out for the evening with his equally-married mistress, takes a wrong turn and ends up in a scary section of the Bronx; after he's accosted by two black youths, the wealthy white couple take it on the lam, ending with one of the boys being struck by their Mercedes. One-part satire of yuppie mobility, the other half a cartoonish cause célèbre, and neither half particularly interesting. Tom Wolfe's bestseller became a movie nobody went to see in 1990, partially due to the miscasting of Tom Hanks as the sales giant whose life is ruined after the story is broken by a newspaper journalist (Bruce Willis, also miscast) who writes his sordid tale before getting all the facts. Brian De Palma is obviously a good director who knows how to pump pizazz and style into a scenario, but this doesn't seem like material he would be in love with. The long opening shot (done in one seamless take, going up in an elevator and then down different hallways) is exceptional, but the behavior of Willis in the scene (acting like a drunken jackass) is immediately off-putting. Willis also narrates the movie in flashback; once we get to the finale (which started the picture), we are no closer to knowing how this writer got to be so smugly, decadently wealthy than we knew from the beginning. A painful experience. * from ****