Light Sleeper

The older he gets, the more Willem Dafoe's face resembles something you might see reflected in the shield of Perseus. Never among the ranks of classically handsome leading men, the wan Dafoe, with his threatening countenance, craggy lines and pointy teeth, has begun to take on frightful dimensions. That is why it is so especially disturbing to see Dafoe paired romantically with actress Dana Delany in "Light Sleeper. " Delany has exactly the opposite aura. With her bobbed hair, turned-up nose and perky, flight-attendant smile, she projects an air of wholesomeness more suited to a Disney movie or the idyllic family values picture painted by the Bushes and Quayles.

Steve is a 50-something married man who's been around the block. Mia is a 20-something single immersed in the Center City dating scene. They may not agree, but they have plenty of answers. If you'd like an answer to your romantic troubles, e-mail them at S&M@phillynews.com or write: S&M c/o Daily News, Box 7788, Philadelphia, PA 19101. Q: One of my wife's insurance company co-workers and her husband just installed a new, eight-person hot-tub in their backyard. We have been invited to a small potluck party with some co-workers and spouses a month from now. The invite reads, "a dish to pass, towel, no swimsuits!"

Thelma & Louise, the inspired Ridley Scott road movie that opened last weekend to solid box office and rave reviews, is to the '90s what Easy Rider was to the '60s: an existential romp across two-lane blacktop that embraces key socio-political issues of the day. The themes of Dennis Hopper's 1969 hippie odyssey were bound with the counterculture movement: peace, love, drugs and the freedom to be weird. In Thelma & Louise, the issue is a different sort of freedom - the freedom to be a woman in a man's world.

QUOTE "Gene Shalit once said I can't walk or talk, much less sing. " - Cybil Shepherd, at the start of her three-week singing gig at Manhattan's Rainbow and Stars cabaret. SUSAN & OSCAR: IS IT NOT TO BE? Susan Sarandon's been nominated thrice for one of those much-coveted Oscars but hasn't had a chance to deliver her thank-you yet. And she's not expecting it for her just-released "The Client," which opens in Philly tomorrow. "I kind of assume that the Oscar is not going to come my way unless I live to be 120, and they honor me for surviving," she says tonight on "Entertainment Tonight.

First, let's clear up this flush valve thing. Dana Delany said she has been saddled with a bad reputation. It has been widely reported - most recently in Spy magazine - that Delany is sitting on a pile of old money, riches reaped from the family business - selling flush valves used in toilets. "It was a modest business," Delany said. "But people have taken this and given me this title of the 'Flush Valve Heiress.' It's such a joke. I've been supporting myself since I was 22, and I hate the idea that I'm just this dilettante who acts because it's fun. " Whatever the reason she acts, she has been doing a lot of it lately.

Sometimes it helps to be a light sleeper. Take Rene Baker, Phillies fan, truck driver. After a long day, she decided to hit the hay after watching the Phillies build a 6-1 lead in the third inning of last night's game at Colorado. Ten, maybe 15 minutes into her sleep, the phone rang. Awakened suddenly, she had to be thinking, "Now who could this be?" On the other end of the line, an unfamiliar voice said the only thing a person who has just had their slumber disturbed wants to hear: Congratulations, you've won our contest.

To the gallery of All-American movie hustlers, we can add Bill Hill of "Touch," a man who discovers a modern-day messiah and immediately tries to give him what Christ never had: an agent. Ours is not the first culture to exploit the lucrative aspects of spirituality, but as we see in "Touch," America is unsurpassed in its ability to turn nearly anything, even miracles, into a form of free enterprise. "Touch" stars Skeet Ulrich as Juvenal, a defrocked priest who works in a drug-rehab center in Los Angeles, where he moonlights as a faith healer.

A saint who yields to temptation, a sinner purified by love, a fundamentalist gone mental and a con man who markets miracles tangle in Touch, Paul Schrader's so-so adaptation of Elmore Leonard's novel about the varieties of religious experience. Skeet Ulrich is charismatic as Juvenal, a reluctant saint who heals the sick. Bridget Fonda likewise is lovely as Lynn, the babe he spiritually renews. But their shy and quiet characterizations are on an entirely different plane - make that a different planet - from the broad caricatures supplied by Tom Arnold as upright, uptight fundamentalist August Murray and Christopher Walken as loosey-goosey con man Bill Hill.

Ed Lachman, the subject of a retrospective and tribute/workshop in the closing days of the first Philadelphia Festival of World Cinema, has a resume not to be believed. Except that it's all true - his name's right there in the credits. In 20 years in the business, the cinematographer - who will be on hand for "An Evening With Ed Lachman" tomorrow at 8 at International House - has shot documentaries and features for the Maysles Brothers, Werner Herzog, Jean- Luc Godard, Wim Wenders, Taylor Hackford, George Nierenberg, Bernardo Bertolucci, Susan Seidelman, Volker Schlondorff, David Byrne, Dennis Hopper and others.

I'm making out my will, and, as you can imagine, I'm having the time of my life. Or death. It's a laugh riot to contemplate your own demise. Not that it takes a will for me to do it. As you know, my mother taught me that I could perish at any moment, especially if I stand near a toaster during a thunderstorm. But I never had to make so many decisions, all of which involve things that take place after I'm dead. You'd think that at some point, I'd get to stop worrying, but no. Evidently, death isn't all it's cracked up to be. I'll bet my skin won't even clear up. But I look on the bright side.

The peddlers arrived at dawn while the sky was purplish blue. In wool hats and layered jackets, and with their breath before them, they lugged their goods onto rickety tables. Rusted tools and old toys. Costume jewelry and table lamps. Baseball cards and Beanie Babies. Bric-a-brac and knickknacks. Their livelihoods. Even in the worst weather, merchants hawk their wares at the Columbus Farmers Market in Mansfield Township. In the hot months, 1,500 vendors will unfold their tables in this 200-acre outdoor flea market in Burlington County.

I'm making out my will, and, as you can imagine, I'm having the time of my life. Or death. It's a laugh riot to contemplate your own demise. Not that it takes a will for me to do it. As you know, my mother taught me that I could perish at any moment, especially if I stand near a toaster during a thunderstorm. But I never had to make so many decisions, all of which involve things that take place after I'm dead. You'd think that at some point, I'd get to stop worrying, but no. Evidently, death isn't all it's cracked up to be. I'll bet my skin won't even clear up. But I look on the bright side.

Steve is a 50-something married man who's been around the block. Mia is a 20-something single immersed in the Center City dating scene. They may not agree, but they have plenty of answers. If you'd like an answer to your romantic troubles, e-mail them at S&M@phillynews.com or write: S&M c/o Daily News, Box 7788, Philadelphia, PA 19101. Q: One of my wife's insurance company co-workers and her husband just installed a new, eight-person hot-tub in their backyard. We have been invited to a small potluck party with some co-workers and spouses a month from now. The invite reads, "a dish to pass, towel, no swimsuits!"

Country legend George Jones has been hospitalized for pneumonia, his record label said yesterday. The Possum, who entered Nashville's Baptist Hospital on Thursday, is expected to make a full recovery. Jones, 74, who says he's been sober for years, earned the nickname No Show Jones because of his much-publicized struggles with alcohol and drugs, which caused him to stand up audiences or arrive hours late to his concerts. Jones, who's on tour for his '05 album, Hits I Missed . . . And One I Didn't, will reschedule weekend performances for Albany, Ga.; Panama City, Fla.; and Chattanooga, Tenn.

Sometimes I wonder why people leave the convenience of established suburban towns to plant themselves on a former farm in the middle of nowhere. But each spring, I remember why. As the weather warms, I happily dig out my short sleeves, whistle while I pack up my winter coats, and open my windows to finally let in some fresh air. It's then that I hear the deafening roar of suburban life. My house is conveniently located a block or two from a butcher store, a party store, two bakeries, three florists, a convenience store, a pizzeria, video store, beauty parlor, bagel store, dry cleaner, a water-ice place, two schools and more.

To the gallery of All-American movie hustlers, we can add Bill Hill of "Touch," a man who discovers a modern-day messiah and immediately tries to give him what Christ never had: an agent. Ours is not the first culture to exploit the lucrative aspects of spirituality, but as we see in "Touch," America is unsurpassed in its ability to turn nearly anything, even miracles, into a form of free enterprise. "Touch" stars Skeet Ulrich as Juvenal, a defrocked priest who works in a drug-rehab center in Los Angeles, where he moonlights as a faith healer.

A saint who yields to temptation, a sinner purified by love, a fundamentalist gone mental and a con man who markets miracles tangle in Touch, Paul Schrader's so-so adaptation of Elmore Leonard's novel about the varieties of religious experience. Skeet Ulrich is charismatic as Juvenal, a reluctant saint who heals the sick. Bridget Fonda likewise is lovely as Lynn, the babe he spiritually renews. But their shy and quiet characterizations are on an entirely different plane - make that a different planet - from the broad caricatures supplied by Tom Arnold as upright, uptight fundamentalist August Murray and Christopher Walken as loosey-goosey con man Bill Hill.

Sometimes it helps to be a light sleeper. Take Rene Baker, Phillies fan, truck driver. After a long day, she decided to hit the hay after watching the Phillies build a 6-1 lead in the third inning of last night's game at Colorado. Ten, maybe 15 minutes into her sleep, the phone rang. Awakened suddenly, she had to be thinking, "Now who could this be?" On the other end of the line, an unfamiliar voice said the only thing a person who has just had their slumber disturbed wants to hear: Congratulations, you've won our contest.

QUOTE "Gene Shalit once said I can't walk or talk, much less sing. " - Cybil Shepherd, at the start of her three-week singing gig at Manhattan's Rainbow and Stars cabaret. SUSAN & OSCAR: IS IT NOT TO BE? Susan Sarandon's been nominated thrice for one of those much-coveted Oscars but hasn't had a chance to deliver her thank-you yet. And she's not expecting it for her just-released "The Client," which opens in Philly tomorrow. "I kind of assume that the Oscar is not going to come my way unless I live to be 120, and they honor me for surviving," she says tonight on "Entertainment Tonight.

The older he gets, the more Willem Dafoe's face resembles something you might see reflected in the shield of Perseus. Never among the ranks of classically handsome leading men, the wan Dafoe, with his threatening countenance, craggy lines and pointy teeth, has begun to take on frightful dimensions. That is why it is so especially disturbing to see Dafoe paired romantically with actress Dana Delany in "Light Sleeper. " Delany has exactly the opposite aura. With her bobbed hair, turned-up nose and perky, flight-attendant smile, she projects an air of wholesomeness more suited to a Disney movie or the idyllic family values picture painted by the Bushes and Quayles.