Nothing makes you want to see a movie as much as a title like The Naked Man, does it? Feels like a vanity project: Michael Rapaport is Edward Blis, a chiropracter becomes a wrestler (clad in a leotard painted with the human anatomy, he's known as "the naked man") and later a sort of vigilante super-hero. Rapaport isn't terribly memorable, nor is the oddball script (co-written by Ethan Coen), but give it a whirl if only for Rachael Leigh Cook's leather-clad, hair-teased psycho-vixen, with love/hate tattooed across her breasts.