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October 13, 1989 | It’s another wonderful evening at the marvelous Starfire Lounge with The Fabulous Baker Boys. That's Frank Baker (Beau Bridges), tickling the ivories and schmoozing with the audience. And that's Jack (Jeff Bridges), his brother, and he's -- well, he's the more quiet one.
 
That's OK, though: Frank has enough snappy patter for the both of them. ''You know, we've been playing together for 31 years,'' he cheerfully informs the audience. ''Of course, when we started out, I was 11 and Jack was 7… When we first started, our only audience was the family cat . . . We must have scared three lives off that poor cat . . .'' But seriously, folks . . .
 
Jack nods -- not in amusement, more out of habit. Frank has said it all before, Jack has heard it all before, thousands of times in dozens of hotel cocktail lounges throughout Seattle. Somehow, Frank has the same enthusiastic sincerity each night, in every lounge. Jack, however, nodded off and went on automatic a long time ago.
 
He's not quite comatose, not yet, but there's every danger signal that one night, right in the middle of ''People'' or ''Feelings,'' he'll drop dead from sheer boredom. That, or he'll strangle his brother with a snapped strand of pianowire.
 
Right from the start, there are intriguing undercurrents of discontent and self-loathing beneath the low-rent showbiz glitter of The Fabulous Baker Boys, a moody, bluesy comedy-drama about dimly lit piano bars and long dark nights of the soul. Scriptwriter Steve Kloves (Racing With the Moon) makes a strong, self-assured debut as a director, establishing and sustaining a tone of hard-edged, world-weary romanticism from first frames to closing credits. At once glossy and gritty, his film, lushly photographed by Michael Ballhaus, goes a long way on evocative atmosphere and sharply-drawn characterizations. It bogs down only when Kloves impedes his own momentum with shopworn clichés and clumps of stilted dialogue.
 
It would be overstating their importance, perhaps, to describe the Baker brothers as has-beens. (Never-weres might be more accurate.) As the movie begins, however, it's clear the piano men aren't drawing them in like they used to. ''Two pianos aren't enough anymore, Jack,'' says Frank, looking to the future. ''It never was, Frank,'' says Jack, looking at their past.
 
So they advertise for a singer, cuing a very funny series of auditions for painfully untalented hopefuls. Jennifer Tilly has a nice cameo as the most eager, and least qualified, of the lot.
 
But then Susie Diamond (Michelle Pfeiffer) walks into the room, sings a few bars of ''More Than You Know,'' and the movie is off in a new, even more intriguing direction. Susie is a tough-talking beauty who, as Raymond Chandler might put it, has been around the block a few times. No, she doesn't have any showbiz experience, but ''for the last couple of years, I've been on call for the Triple-A Escort Service.'' Yes, she can sing a torch song or a ballad more than adequately, and can fake great stage presence.
 
So the Baker Boys take their Diamond in the rough on the road. Frank, a family man who treats his showbiz career like a working stiff treats a 9-to-5 gig, is happy about the upsurge in bookings. Jack grows slightly more animated on stage, and manages a charming smile for Susie when the evening ends. At first, Susie is adamant about not getting romantically involved with a co-worker. But all it takes is a sentimental New Year's Eve to melt her resolve.

And then all it takes is a night of passion to threaten the future of the Fabulous Baker Boys.
 
The romantic triangle plot is pretty banal, and poor Beau Bridges gets some unspeakable lines to deliver as the odd man out. (''Don't let a whiff of perfume blow off 15 years, Jack.'') Still, even when the movie threatens to turn silly -- Jack is torn between reasonably steady work as a piano bar entertainer and more fulfilling employment (but even greater obscurity) as a jazz musician -- there is a compelling edge to the relationships, and an emotional truth to the performances.

Jeff Bridges, working for the first time with his real-life older brother, is thoroughly persuasive as Jack, playing the gone-to-seed golden boy with a cynical sneer, a thinly-disguised vulnerability, and a slow-simmering disgust for his own moral laziness. Michelle Pfieffer plays Susie with a wounded, wary sensuality that could burn a hole through the hardest heart. And Beau Bridges gives Frank a surprisingly strong spine of dignity beneath his cotton-candy jolliness. These three talented people make beautiful music, and a very fine movie, together.