Thursday, August 9, 2018

The Gleeson For the Season

I watched a lot of Brendan Gleeson movies this week. But not enough. I don't think of myself as having a favorite actor, but some days... some days it's this guy. Fuck, he's good. Concentrated on crime flicks of course, which means he's playing gangsters and cops. I've included some links here so that you can play along at home.

First up I was so happy to find Paddy Breathnach's  I Went Down was on Prime. It's a film I've wanted to see for twenty years and somehow always eluded me. Now I have. And you can too. You'd be a right cunt not to seize this opportunity to catch it.

Followed that up with Adam Smith's Trespass Against Us. At least my third viewing and it still broke my heart and jacked my pulse and made me laugh. I fucking love this movie. More crime movies with this kind of heart, please. Fuck me, it's beautiful. It's on Prime now if you haven't caught it yet.

Only my second viewing of John Boorman's undersung The General about real criminal and folkhero Martin Cahill. It's so utterly charming and worth seeking out. Glad it beat Thaddeus O'Sullivan's Ordinary Decent Criminal with Kevin Spacey in the lead role (inspired by Cahill) into theaters by a few months as it's the clearly superior offering. Dudes, it's also on Prime.

Another first time viewing was Gillies MacKinnon's Trojan Eddie featuring Gleeson in a supporting role as an enforcer for small time gangster, Richard Harris, whose son, Stephen Rea, is just out of prison and resisting his influence. Also on Prime.

Didn't find John Michael McDonagh's The Guard on any major streaming service so I broke out my well-worn DVD for a fourth? Fifth? watch. I loved both McDonagh brothers' films last year, but was a little disturbed to realize neither had utilized Gleeson as they're so fond of doing.

John Michael McDonagh brought Gleeson back in his second feature, Calvary. This time, in an about-face on the gleefully compromised yet somehow uncorrupted copper of The Guard, Gleeson plays a good and straight-man priest trying to balance atoning for the church's sins with protecting his own life when it's threatened by a victim of sexual abuse from a priest.

And JMM's brother, Martin McDonagh, has also used him twice. Most notably as the conflicted hitman enjoying his holiday, and suffering his pouty partner, Colin Farrell, in In Bruges (available on Netflix)

as well as in the wonderful short film, Six Shooter, which really distills both McDonagh brothers' essence nicely. Equal measures profane and profoundly sad with outrageous dialogue and of course Gleeson being the key ingredient holding it all together. It's on fookin YouTube.

Another first time viewing and another short film this week: Noreen. Written and directed by Brendan's son Domhnall Gleeson and co-starring another son, Brian Gleeson. Father and son play police partners royally fucking up covering up their fuck up of a crime scene. Check it out on Prime or also on YouTube.

That does it for my week in Gleesonland. A magical place and a shithole.

Monday, August 6, 2018

Ready Reader One

 Bearskin - James A. McLaughlin - Dude trying to stay under the radar for fear of a death sentence from a Mexican drug cartel takes on a new identity and a position as a gamekeeper on a federal preserve. It's ideal in that it keeps him pretty isolated from humanity, but it's also the kind of job that makes him unpopular with the local good ol' boys who regard his anti-poaching stance as some hippy bullshit. Since his predecessor in the position was horribly assaulted in the line of duty the higher ups figured putting someone of his physical build and potentially prickly demeanor on the job might send a message to the ne'er do wells prone to ne'er doing well on the protected land. When it's not describing the flora and fauna like it's a lost volume of The Lord of the Rings, Bearskin sometimes reads like a lost Elmore Leonard novel in the way the characters don't simply follow behavioral blueprints through familiar thriller territory. The wildness in the character feeling the call of the wild makes for a couple outstanding and memorable passages while a few of the boilerplate thriller bits dull the edges.

Blood Standard - Laird Barron - Pretty straight-up hardboiled fare that hits all the beats with a satisfying crunch. It's high pulp fare tempered by tone that somehow makes it feel grounded in a reality we don't quite recognize, but suspect isn't too far fetched (we get a good return on our willful suspension of disbelief). If Stephen Hunter had criminal protagonists and spent only about a third of the time he does on firearms it might feel like this (that's a healthy recommendation).

Chicago - David Mamet - Plenty of good Mametian bits here for those of us that love what he does, but I get it if anybody feels let down by the book based on expectations built by the title and cover art. It's not exactly a thrilling prohibition era gangland tale. What it is is an occasionally thrilling, often humorous and sometimes tragic collection of essays and stories delivered as anecdotes over food and drinks between the archetypes of the time - newspaper men, vice operators, semi-legit gangsters, ex-soldiers. Mamet is fascinated by hustlers, con men and survivors and the ways we accept and or bargain with corruption as a fact of life. It's talky the way you'd expect from a play write, in the way you'd be disappointed not to get from as acute an ear as Mamet's, but the story doesn't move with the pace his pulpiest movies can. Where Heist, Spartan, Ronin and The Untouchables are chock-full of great lines in service of high-octane tales this one feels more like House of Cards, The Spanish Prisoner or American Buffalo in the pace of seduction. I don't think the characters are particularly memorable, but their insights, takeaways and attitudes offer some pretty great impressions of a specific place and time and the kind of people who flourished and perished therein.

Child of God - Cormac McCarthy - Am I a bad person for thinking it was mostly pretty funny or is thinking it was mostly pretty funny just evidence that I'm a bad person?

Cotton Comes to Harlem - Chester Himes - A con man ripping off the poor black population has his haul hijacked by a larger white con operation stoking racial tensions and piling bodies up on the streets of Harlem. When the chief gives detectives Coffin Ed Johnson and Gravedigger Jones a free hand to deal with the situation they turn out the pockets of the whole neighborhood in a spectacularly blunt show of force and panache. My favorite thing about Himes' Harlem cycle is the loving attention he gives to all the neighborhood characters each with carving a hard-knock life out with a little innovation and hustle. He dips from a bottomless well of colorful characters.

Country Dark - Chris Offutt - Story of a straight shooter in a crooked game told with all the laconic confidence and charm we expect of our best southern writers. The particulars of the protagonists' plight are a standout for this type of hardboiled rural fare - he and his young wife continue to have child after child afflicted with developmental abnormalities and are continually harder pressed to make the money that may keep them a nuclear family unit. The big desperate play means taking a pinch that will mean prison time for a gangster that will pay handsomely. Guess what? Everything goes smoothly and no further complications arise and the gangster honors the spirit of the bargain and all the family problems are solved by money. Or you'll have to read the book for the rest of it. Offutt's return to fiction is a welcome and it's hard to believe it's only his second published novel (he is also the author of two terrific volumes of collected short stories). He remains one of a very few writers I'll read regardless of book type - essays, memoirs, long or short-form fiction. Just keep em coming.

Edge City - Sin Soracco - An ex con working at an exotic, almost other-worldly bar in San Francisco falls in with old friends, strange benefactors and more than a few who don't want her to go straight. Pretty soon she's roped into a scheme to rip off a dangerous underworld figure and she's pretty sure everyone thinks she's expendable as soon as the job is done. So she does what any reasonable person in her predicament would do; she makes her own plans. I loved Soracco's prison novel, Low Bite, for its wild characters and anecdotal structure. The stranger the story, the more immediate and reality-rooted the whole thing seemed to me. And Edge City too is full of interesting characters driven by odd compulsions toward mostly unseemly goals, but inhabits a distinctly 'other' space - an altered or augmented reality. The prose is slightly hypnotic and we experience the atmosphere of the club - a non-stop, insistent, surreal party - as a sort of limbo where glimpses of paradise intermittently intrude on the ebbing tide carrying the human flotsam off toward an eventual port in hades.

Fatale - Jean-Patrick Manchette - A mysterious woman moves to a new town and familiarizes herself to the local citizenry, probing the secrets of the upper class for what she knows will be a terrible secret that holds the power structure together, in order to disrupt and destroy it all and make off with a fortune. All small towns are the same, but the new one may afford her the opportunity to work out a personal demon or two. The first half of this brief novel is a grotesque comedy of manners and the second half is pure carnage. A comedic meditation on revenge with especially potent imagery in its closing segments.

The Force - Don Winslow - I love dirty cop stuff more than heroic cop stuff because it always feels closer to reality. I love Winslow as a storyteller of rare gifts to tell sweeping, epic stories with immediacy and through intimate lenses. His flare for scan-able prose has never been smoother. While the prose is propulsive, it's dignified - it's not near as flamboyantly showy as he can turn out, nor is it stodgy and formal like an 'important' book can feel. Nor, I might add, is The Force 'an important book' the way The Power of the Dog and The Cartel could be considered. This one is a portrait of a highly skilled cop, a predator of predators, forced into a personal reckoning. It's big and it's grand and tragic every bit as much as it is exciting and morally chewy, but it's a top-shelf work of popular entertainment in an already familiar genre that benefits from the immersive research with credible accuracy backing up the well established short-hand of similar fare. This one's less Michael Mann professionalism than it is Sidney Lumet moral culpability, less The Wire's social realism than The Shield's pulp operatics. I loved this book.

Rocket Ryder & Little Putt-Putt Go Down Swinging - Timothy Friend - When the stars of a forgotten but not gone children's TV show find out they're about to be pulled from broadcast the titular duo consider their options and take bold action. Super brief, but popping with energy. Not a page goes by without an act of violence or perversion and that's a lot of bang for your precious reading-time buck. 

A White Arrest - Ken Bruen - First in a proposed re-read of the Brant series which I used to consider third-tier Bruen behind the Jack Taylor titles and the stand-alones. I now think of Jack Taylor as the third-tier (at least after the first 2 or 3 books) and the Brants as delivering what I really want out of KB - fast, brutal action and zippy lines about drink, drugs, music, film, literature, sex, politics and sport. This is my comfort food

Friday, August 3, 2018

Outta Jail, Raisin Hell

Finally recovered from my N@B hangover and pleased to say the parts I remember were great. The first St. Louis N@B event in a couple trips around the sun kicked off with me reading from my contribution to the new anthology Blood & Gasoline (the Mario Acevedo edited collection that has me sharing space with Gary Phillips, Jon Bassoff, Gabino Iglesias, James R. Tuck and N@B alum Les Edgerton). Amanda Gowin followed that with a reading from her story Cellar's Dog which you can find in the anthology Gutted alongside horror nobodies like Clive Barker, Neil Gaiman, Christopher Coake, Paul Tremblay, Josh Malerman and N@B alum Richard Thomas.

Chris Orlet got into trouble picking up two just-sprung cons and abandoning them to the wilds of southern Illinois in an early chapter from his brand new novel A Taste of Shotgun. You can and should find out what happens next by purchasing that shit right here.

Tawny Pike slew the room with the sexiest and bloodiest reading of the night. You can read part of it in the flash piece Death Dance at Shotgun Honey. The bulk of the story will be available in an upcoming issue of Switchblade - watch the site.

Max Booth III added a Peckerwood reference to a passage from The Nightly Disease, Jen Egan hooked me on her unpublished novel with the opening chapter about a medium learning about the danger inherent in scamming her clientele - at least the ones who are violent criminal types and Scott Phillips gave us a drug deal gone bad and the aftermath from his upcoming novel.

Was great to see other alum there too - Clayton Lindenmuth, Shaw L. Coney and Tim Lane were onhand and holy crap, it'd been too long since I'd seen any of them. If you, like me, can't get enough of Tim's shit - check out his new story B-Girl available on the new free streaming culture site byNWR.

If the initials don't give it away, is the brainchild of filmmaker Nicolas Winding Refn and it features free content including 'lost' "bad taste movies"(two of which I watched this week Bert Williams's alternately hacky and innovative The Nest of the Cuckoo Birds and Joseph G. Prieto's amazingly titled Shanty Tramp).

I've been a Refn fan since the Pusher trilogy was released over here and was thrilled when his adaptation of James Sallis' Drive raised his profile astronomically. I was even more thrilled when, instead of being co-opted by a major studio franchise or high-profile remake, his next two films doubled and even tripled down on his weirdo fetishist-filmmaker identity. Shit, I'm still surprised Only God Forgives didn't land him in movie jail.

"Movie jail" is a place some of my favorite film makers have spent time or been threatened with after making career-killing films. It's also a place many cinematic offenders deserve to be. This week on the Do Some Damage podcast with Steve Weddle I talk about films by three directors who've been to movie jail.

Mission: Impossible - Fallout is the sixth in the ever-innovating and occasionally improving franchise. It's also the first time a director has made a second entry in the series. Christopher McQuarrie has been Tom Cruise's go-to guy (Fallout being the third film he's directed Cruise in and the sixth he's written for the star) in the last ten years.

McQuarrie made his name as the Academy Award nominated screenwriter of 1995's The Usual Suspects. In 2000 his directorial debut Way of the Gun obliterated all of the good will that twist-ended cool criminal movie had built him in exactly half a weekend. Never mind the amazing cast, nor the return of the funny-talking dude from the other movie - where the first flick was clever and slick the new one was really, deeply nasty and cruel and went out of its way to put the audience off their appetite for cheaply held life. The movie tanked hard and nobody helped McQuarrie back up. It would be twelve years before Tom Cruise bailed him out of movie jail by hiring him to write and direct the Lee Child adaptation, Jack Reacher. Way of the Gun is streaming now on Netflix.

Jennifer Lynch's career was nearly over before it began after the debacle that was her directorial debut Boxing Helena quite possibly made more money from Kim Basinger than the rest of the world combined. Basinger was sued for breach of contract when she dropped out of the titular role (following in the footsteps of Madonna in abandoning the project) and ended up paying millions of dollars for the decision. She may still think it was a good deal.

Helena is a strange horror fable with some genuinely weird notions, plus Art Garfunkel, but... yeah, not great.

Fast forward fifteen years to 2008's Surveillance - Lynch's next time behind a feature film. And damn, this one works. Bill Pullman and Julia Ormond play Federal agents poking around some brutal crimes committed in the middle of nowhere. They tangle a bit with the local law types (including Michael Ironside and a surprisingly strong French Stewart) while trying to get a clear story from a young child who might have some important information.

Everybody involved has a different agenda and things get bloody by the end. It's a film made by a director with vision and the chops to realize it. Glad to have Jennifer out of movie jail and hope we get more like this one. Surveillance is available to rent or buy on multiple streaming platforms.

You know who's still in movie jail? Martin Brest that's who. He appears to be in solitary confinement too. There are zero writing, producing or directing credits or even rumors of projects in development that I've heard since 2003's Gigli which... yeah pay a fine or something, but everybody else has moved on from that debacle and I wish the director of Beverly Hill Cop and the absolutely perfect and indispensable Midnight Run had a chance to take another shot.

But Jed, you say, Gigli was fucking awful. To which I'd reply - so was Wise Guys, but Brian De Palma never stopped directing (his next film was The Untouchables) and George Gallo's next writing credit was Midnight Run. I'd sit through a dozen forgettable clunkers on the off-chance something as sublime as Midnight Run was next.

If you've never seen it, get on that shit. This buddy comedy action road movie is one of the very first non-prestige, light entertainments Robert De Niro made after stepping down from the throne of serious acting and were it to be blamed for turning his career into the schlock-fest it's become I'd say it was well worth it because it remains one of the purest movie watching pleasures of my life and only seems to get better with age. 

The cast's chemistry is magic - go ahead and pick your favorite duo from: De Niro and Charles Grodin's odd couple bickering to Dennis Farina and Philip Baker Hall's old married couple dynamic, Joe Pantoliano and Jack Kehoe's schlubby, sleazy charm or Richard Foronjy and Robert Miranda's knockaround idiots - plus Yaphet Kotto and John Ashton's appearances are frequent and not often enough. Even Danny Elfman's original score has personality and is nearly unrecognizable from the autopilot setting he's been locked into for the last twenty five years.

My generation's Butch & Sundance is available to rent or buy on multiple streaming platforms. Don't say a fuckin word, Sidney.

Friday, July 27, 2018


Had a great time at the Midsummer Night's Creep event at Left Bank Books. Josh Woods read a spooky action passage from The Black Palace, Kea Wilson read a dog-killing scene from her cannibalism novel We Eat Our Own (would've made  you proud, Benjamin Whitmer) and I found a way to squeeze most of my short story Little White Lines (from Blood & Gasoline) into my allotted time. Thanks to Left Bank Books for hosting (you can still pick up a few signed copies of Peckerwood at the store).

Toasts and roasts to N@B favorite Fred Venturini who had to cancel his appearance at the event for a family emergency. Man... if only there were a way I could entice Fred and Josh and Kea back for another stab at this event... if only I had my own reading series to make this happen.

Shit howdy, kids, we're doing N@B in St. Louis again. Saturday the gang's back to their old ticks at Meshuggah. And lookit the lineup...

Max Booth III whose The Nightly Disease fucking ruled, and whose next novel Who Will Survive and What Will Be Left of Them has been picked up by Fangoria (books!).

Amanda Gowin returning to cast Serious Moonlight on the proceedings with more haunty, spooky horror/wonder stuffs.

It's publishing week for my man, Chris Orlet. His new novel A Taste of Shotgun is set just across the river from me and mine in Illinois and features craven characters creating carnage and feckless fuckwits failing and flaming out fantastically. Fuck yeah.

Will Scott Phillips give us a reading from the new novel? Fuckin hope so. It's great.

I was so pissed when I read Tawny Pike's story Death Dance in Shotgun Honey - because I have an unpublished story about killing somebody the same way, I swear. Fuck. It's gnarly. She brings the goods.

And Jen Egan is our secret weapon this time around. Had her on the shortlist for a couple of years now and you're all about to find out why.

N@B is back in St. Louis, yo.

Sunday, July 22, 2018

All Things Being Equal

This week on the Do Some Damage podcast I followed this line of thinking: The Equalizer 2 opens this weekend marking the fourth time Denzel Washington and Antoine Fuqua have worked together. Since their first collaboration, Training Day, won Washington his first Best Actor Oscar and was also the first unqualified success for Fuqua (whose feature film debut, The Replacement Killers, I really enjoyed, but find myself in an apparent minority) as well as a hell of a reputation maker for screenwriter David Ayer, and seeing as Fuqua and Ayer have gone on to have big if uneven careers, I used my seven minutes to talk about another film from both of them.

First I talked about my favorite Fuqua; 2009's Brooklyn's Finest. Follows what I like to think of a classic James Ellroy structure; three very different cops with different problems and motivations end up crossing paths with terrible results.

First we have Don Cheadle's quickly burning-out undercover whose handler (Will Patton) has promised him a major promotion and an end to undercover work if he betrays his best friend (a pretty engaged Wesley Snipes). Along the way he'll lose his soul.

Second - Ethan Hawke's hard-pressed officer who steals desperately needed money from a drug bust to help get his at-risk-pregnant wife (Lili Taylor) and kids out of their black mold infested shitbox row house into a place the air and water won't literally poison them. Along the way he'll lose his life and create some terrible collateral damage.

Third is Richard Gere's cowardly cop just trying to finish his time before retiring alive. He avoids confrontation at all cost and ignores some super shady shit before his latent conscience gets the better of him. Along the way he'll lose his skin.

It's a pretty great tragic drama without heroes and only shades of grey and it's free on Prime now.

Training Day wasn't Ayer's only 2001 credit - he also wrote the Point Break riff about an undercover cop infiltrating a ring gear-heads, The Fast & the Furious; which has spawned a franchise that's moved on from being concerned with stealing CD players to saving the fucking world one nitrous infusion at a time. And if you thought the he borrowed liberally from the surfer movie, you should hold up the script for Training Day next to James Ellroy's original screenplay, Dark Blue. Maaaaaybe a line or three of dialogue appear in both.

Dark Blue is a non-sports-themed Ron Shelton flick based on an Ellroy script re-written by Ayer starring Kurt Russell as a dirty cop about to face a reckoning. Set in L.A. in 1992, the country holding its collective breath awaiting the jury's verdict in the trial of the police officers caught on camera beating holy hell out of a pedestrian named Rodney King. We all know what's about to happen and it makes for a hell of a ticking clock device while Russell attempts both to solve some brutal murders and use the chaos to cover up some of his own dirt.

I'm not sure why this movie didn't get more love when it came out. My guess is that it was mostly a victim of poor timing - arriving so shortly on the heels of Joe Carnahan's similar and superior indie darling Narc - but if you've never seen it it's a solid adult crime flick with some great writing (a few groaner lines aside) and a terrific performance from Russell who is more than just a hair-do.

There are a few flimsy bits and Scott Speedman's rock star locks don't really lend him street cred, but the cast also includes Brendan Gleeson, Lolita Davidovich, Jonathan Banks and Ving Rhames so don't hesitate to give it a look - available to rent or purchase on Amazon.

All this talk of Ellroy influences got me pissed off all over again at the news that we wouldn't be getting to see Jordan Harper's James Ellroy's L.A. Confidential on TV or any streaming service after all after this fuckin article came along to rub tabasco in my wounds. Shit shit shit.