By MARK GRIFFIN
Staff Writer
 

Tyrannical land baron Larry Cook (Jason Robards) decides to apportion a thousand acres among his three daughters: dutiful though childless Ginny (Lange), bitter and nearly breastless Rose (Pfeiffer) and the uncooperative alienated Caroline (Jason Leigh). Naturally, this results in deceit, betrayal, adultery, damning recriminations and the obligatory courtroom sequence.

In the wrong hands, "A Thousand Acres" could have easily become an enterprise more befitting of Heather Locklear then the formidable talents assembled here. Thanks to a sharp screenplay by Laura Jones and a truly brilliant lead performance, Ms. Locklear's zip code may safely remain 90210.

In an age where adjectives and accolades are flung about as freely as endearments on the Internet, saying that Jessica Lange is translucent perfection in this film almost sounds stingy.

Narrating the film in a raspy, Betty Buckleyish half whisper, Lange manages to penetrate to the bone even when she isn't onscreen. When she is in view, Lange's weathered deflated beauty is reminiscent of the mature Marlene Dietrich and the poignant, shared intimacy of her performance assures her a place among the greatest screen actresses of all time. Having carved an eminently watchable career out of playing psychologically fragile characters--from her acclaimed portrayal of tortured screen star Frances Farmer in "Frances" (Universal Pictures, 1982) to her Oscar winning showcase as the brazenly uninhibited wife in "Blue Sky" (Orion Pictures, 1994)--Lange has proven herself, time and again, as a performer of rare depth and emotionality.

When first introduced to us, the central character of Ginny Cook Smith is the quintessence of eager to please simplicity. After becoming unravelled by a maelstrom of lies, incest and adultery, Ginny is stripped of her illusions in gingham, yet somehow remains hopeful. The role requires a sensitive command and enormous versatility. Jessica Lange delivers a performance as delicate, deeply felt and deceptively simple as a haiku poem.

Equally affecting, yet housed in a more self-conscious performance, is Michelle Pfeiffer's Rose Cook Lewis. There's always been an undercurrent of danger lurking beneath Pfeiffer's feline allure but here the cork has finally been allowed to pop. Singularly determined to exact revenge on an abusive father while forcing others to feel her pain, Pfeiffer's eyes simultaneously suggest the glare of high beam headlights as well as the defenselessness of a deer caught in their blaze.

A number of recent films, including "The Prince of Tides", "Marvin's Room" and "Crimes of the Heart", have all made well intentioned pilgrimages into the spheres of the family politics and celluloid psychoanalysis. "A Thousand Acres" explores similar terrain and although its smorgasbord of dysfunction was long ago scavenged by the likes of Jenny Jones and Ricki Lake, the film steers clear of self indulgent excess by virtue of Smiley's poetry and the unwavering commitment of its female stars.

Despite its undeniable virtues, "A Thousand Acres" is seriously marred by what appears to be some rather injudicious editing. This alleged streamlining results in the Robards character conveniently morphing from overbearing elder statesman into a raving lunatic within a matter of minutes. The storm (both literal and blatantly metaphorical) that visits Robards' family seems oddly abbreviated and more like a misty drizzle than the central, transformative event intended.

Though prominently billed in the credits, character actress Anne Pitoniak utters but a word or two in the release print and then promptly disappears. Likewise the talented Kevin (as Pfeiffer's boorish husband)-is with a handful of lines in a few scenes, can be briefly spotted on the perimeters of others before he compliantly succumbs. Even with some of its potency pared into the periphery, "A Thousand Acres" remains a must see because Jessica's better than ever, no one has time to read anymore (even Pulitzer winners) and at matinee prices, this King Lear reminds us that a real home should never want for fences.