PERHAPS IT WAS IN VAIL

Lewandowski sets this powderweight tale of ecological revenge amid Vail, Colorado's glittering ski-folks--who are as high on Jamaican and Columbian pot and crystalline coke as they are on the slopes. . . which is not to ignore the fluffiness that double martinis, perfectly iced champagnes, and veal with crableg topping bring to the aspen-thin story line. Retired millionaire businessman Jerry O'Toole, a great outdoorsman, is burnt to the bone by Phil Slayton's hideous gouging away of terrific scenery to make way for his aluminum-sided liquor store and two mobile homes. Jerry decides to bankrupt Slayton and so sets him up to buy into a phony land-development scheme that will bust him when he liquidates all his properties to make the necessary down payment. In the scheming process, Jerry's loyal, lucky aides find themselves in the middle of gloriously splashy parties and sex on polar bear rugs while folk guitarist Jack Hamm--an ersatz Brechtian street-singer--puts the whole scene into his musical commentary. Good moments about the inner workings of the hotel-restaurant business; otherwise, zero for moral force and a basta! for pandering in angel's robes.