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This movie features the collaborative directorial efforts of four new filmmakers, each of whom directs a segment of this comedy. It's New Year's Eve at the Mon Signor Hotel, a former grand old Hollywood hotel, now fallen upon hard times. Often using physical comedy and sight gags, this movie chronicles the slapstick misadventures of Ted, the Bellhop. He's on his first night on the job, when he's asked to help out a coven of witches in the Honeymoon Suite. Things only get worse when he delivers ice to the wrong room and ends up in a domestic argument at a really bad time. Next, he foolishly agrees to watch a gangster's kids for him while he's away. Finally, he finishes off the night refereeing a ghastly wager. (official distributor synopsis)
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Rodriguez’s and Tarantino’s stories are good, the other two are average, Tim Roth, on the other hand, was awful. He overacts a lot, jerking his body and head like a moron and making all sorts of stupid jokes. I guess it was supposed to be funny, but it was awkward and it made this whole, otherwise quite cool little movie, frustrating. Four stars without Roth!
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A very weak affair. An unimaginative shot-in-the-dark short story, which then as now attracted attention only by a bunch of familiar (but not interesting) names brought together. To start, we have a moment from the witches' coven, Madonna teases, Ione Skye shows her breasts and Valeria Golino is a familiar face, but no one knows her by name nowadays... and this group isn’t able to do anything together. Absolutely nothing. We continue with a story about how the couple has fun letting a busboy peek into their sex games, and yes, Jennifer Beals was and is sexy, but nothing more. Then we witness Rodriguez's prequel to Spy Kids. Okay, then. And the ending? He tries to convince us, in the words of Quentin himself, that Four Rooms is not complete bullshit, but rather that it holds together. That is the biggest mistake of all.
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The first two short stories are just awful rubbish and not worth mentioning, with the third one brilliantly escalating (Tim Roth vomiting and screaming "What the fuck is this?!" totally cracked me up) and opening the door to the mega-chatty and fantastically onanistic fourth short story with a famous ending by Tarantino. During this one I almost forgot about all the ballast at the beginning.
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It’s such a shame that the quality of the first two stories doesn’t come anywhere near the work of Tarantino and Rodriguez. All right, there is one word is more fitting – average. Apart from Roth’s hamming, almost nothing happens. Luckily my expectations were not that high, and I just took it as a necessary debut movie, until the action hurricane with the slick Banderas and the ending where Tarantino reels off one snappy line after another. As a Quentin fan I really enjoyed the last bit, maybe almost as much as he did himself. Tons of cues and heavily improvised monologs (excuse me, monolog) in one take and faultless choreography. That’s why I gave it the fourth star, I can’t say no more to defend it.
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Sometimes about nothing, sometimes lacking a point, the lines go over my head and two good stories simply aren't enough for me. The film as a whole lacks atmosphere and one man is to blame – Tim Roth. His connecting thread of a character is nothing more than a silly caricature trying to look like a mix of Rowan Atkinson and similar clowns, but instead just oozes awkwardness.
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