Saturday, December 20, 2008
Favorite Christmas films in no particular order:
Die Hard- "Now I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho."
Lethal Weapon - "We're gonna get bloody on this one, Rog."
L.A. Confidential - Bloody Christmas
Donnie Brasco - The money-envelope exchange followed by a loan. So depressing.
Ice Harvest - "Last of the big spenders." "Do you have kids?" "No." "Then shut the fuck up."
Bad Santa - "I'M ON MY FUCKING LUNCH BREAK!!!"
The Shining - Always seemed like a Christmas movie to me.
The Empire Strikes Back - Because the first time I saw it was on t.v. Thanksgiving night... plus snow. Lots of snow.
Fellowship of the Ring - Totally works as a holiday movie if you substitute "credit card" for "ring". Powerful.
Posted by jedidiah ayres at 1:47 PM
Thursday, December 18, 2008
At Close Range, the 1986 family/crime drama starring Sean Penn and Christopher Walken. I can't believe no one had shoved this film down my throat before, it's so friggin great. It's stuck in the '80s in a few ways, but the story and the performances stand up to time and watching the credits I saw something that made me smile - directed by James Foley. Foley's is one of those names that seems to slip in to my mind every couple years as an afterthought to an enjoyable film - as in - that wasn't bad, who directed it again? I've always assumed, perhaps unfairly, that he was a journeyman, a director for hire, a competent captain for somebody else's project, but looking back on his, (admittedly uneven), body of work, I'm impressed. So, a list.
The Corruptor - I remember 1993, seeing The Killer and Hardboiled and the A Better Tomorrow movies and thinking Chow Yun-Fat was absolutely the coolest gunslinger in cinema, (thank you George Pelecanos btw). Then he and John Woo got sucked into the Hollywood machine and started making "real" movies, (read - in English) and it went downhill pretty fast. But the first couple of get to know ya films Chow Yun-Fat made for Western audiences, The Replacement Killers, (get it?), and The Corruptor were not half-bad, the former, (helmed by Antoine Fuqua) was an attempt to indoctrinate Occidental audiences with the ultra-stylized Hong Kong brand of two-fisted bullet shucking, which Yun-Fat remains the ultimate icon of, and the latter was an attempt to form the icon of bullet ballets into a classic American hardboiled street cop with a rainbow of gray in his heart. And it worked alright. Gone were the uber-choreographed action pieces, replaced by grittier, nastier violence and uh, Mark Wahlberg, (at one of the higher points of his career).
Confidence The onslaught of heist/con-man pictures at the millenium's birth, driven by the success of Ocean's Eleven, hit benchmarks like Neil Jordan's remake of Bob le flambeur, (The Good Thief), and Johnathan Glazer's fever dream, Sexy Beast, but quickly played out into lazy games of cinematic gotcha fronted by leading men topheavy with dash and rounded out by a pretty smirk. So when trailers for Confidence started circulating, featuring Edward Burns, never looking more like Ben Affleck, as a con-man topheavy with dash and sporting a pretty smirk - (one that both co-stars Rachel Weisz and Dustin Hoffman seem to be intent on kissing off), it looked like a colossal waste of time. But then I had a lot of time on my hands then, so I paid five bucks, (remember $5 movies?) and found myself entertained against my better judgement. First you gotta love the cast - the supporting cast, that is. Paul Giamatti, Robert Forster, Donal Logue, Luis Guzman, Louis Lombardi, the aforementioned Hoffman and Weisz and Andy Garcia. Then there's the script. It should have sucked - all that con slang spritzed about like perfume at a truck stop rendezvous, (Burns' character's name is Jake Vig for petessake). On the page it must've looked like Mametese for first-graders, but the delivery was (mostly) gold and it was just exactly the breezy brand of entertainment it aspired to be - the "what happened to my two hours? maybe I'll go again sometime." variety.
After Dark, My Sweet Jim Thompson's body of work ran the quality gamut, (when greatness and alcoholism collide) and so too have adaptations made of his books and short stories, (compare the film versions of The Grifters and This World and Then the Fireworks). After Dark, My Sweet hit the source material squarely in its dark, dark heart. Resisting the urge to make a self-conscious period piece decked out with fedoras and old school slang, Foley and co-screenwriter Robert Redlin, smartly contemporized the 1955 story without sacrificing an ounce of its ill-will. Jason Patric, desperate to grow out of pretty-boy roles, found a great vehicle to show off dramatic chops and he stumbles through the film as an escaped mental patient/ex-boxer who may or may not be as dumb as he looks, (an essential Thompson theme). And Rachel Ward finally got noir right, (after the comedic Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid and the ill-advised Out of the Past update Against All Odds). Bruce Dern, is dead on in his ever creepy, deliciously malicious way as the mastermind of a kidnapping where everyone gets hurt and the day-glow back-drops make the tone even more sinister. It's headed to a bad bad place from frame one and you just can't wait to get there.
At Close Range Remember when Sean Penn was a heart-throb? Even his blond hair and muscles popping out of his tee-shirt can't distract you from the earnest intensity radiating out of him as Brad Whitewood Jr., a small town kid looking to prove himself to his suddenly present, outlaw father, (Christopher Walken before his cadence was a cliche and every blink a wink). He recruits his younger brother, (an excellent turn from the late Christopher Penn, who - as a possible bastard - is even more desperate), and friends, (including Crispin Glover and Kiefer Sutherland), bored with rural Pennslyvania summers into a gang of tractor thieves as an audition to join his dad's crew, (Tracey Walter, R.D. Call and David Strathairn to name a few). Brad Whitewood Sr. is a charmer and manipulator who plays with his sons' affections the same way he would a one night stand's. In one excruciating scene he pulls out his gun at a diner and places it on the table asking his boys if they'd like to have it. The younger Whitewood brother, Tommy, snatches it up and begins playing with it like a six year old who's just been given his father's fishing gear. Brad Sr. then takes it back and says "Well you can't. It's mine." The pain on Tommy's face is as naked as the amusement on his father's. Brad Jr. falls quickly for 16 year old Terry, (Mary Stuart Masterson) and joins his father's gang for some quick money that he can use to run away with his girlfriend, but gets into deeper and darker waters than he wanted to believe his father capable of swimming in. Based on the true story of Bruce Johnston Sr., it's a crime movie of perfect tone and scale.
Glengarry Glen Ross You've seen it right? What do I need to say? Career bests for... etc. etc. Perhaps when you have Al Pacino, Jack Lemmon, Ed Harris, Alan Arkin, Kevin Spacey, Alec Baldwin and Johnathan Pryce stranded on a sound stage with a David Mamet play, you don't need a director. But, I've seen other movies made from Mamet plays and none come close to this one.
From now on if I see "directed by James Foley", I'm giving it a closer look.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Out of the Gutter magazine, "the modern journal of pulp fiction and degenerate literature" is back on newsstands now with issue #5, the "Revenge" edition. Lemme just get out of the way the fact that one of my own stories appears alongside filthy, filthy offerings from Charlie (Mafiya)Stella, Vicki Hendricks (have you read Miami Purity? - made me blush - seriously)and personal favs Greg Bardsley and Jordan Harper. Bardsley & Harper are apparently not just favorites of mine, (you can read their work in numerous on-line journals including Thuglit, Plots With Guns, Demolition, Storyglossia, Pulp Pusher... it goes on), they also won OOTG's two fiction contest categories, (judged BTW by pulp/noir stalwarts Victor Gun Monkeys Gischler and Anthony Neil Yellow Medicine Smith). The rest of the work, including A Crash Course in Chivalry - a comic by Henry R. Paine and Seth Ferranti's non-fiction piece - The Aryan Circle is worth your precious crapper-reading time any day. Can't find OOTG in your town? You can order issue 5 as well as back issues at http://outoftheguttermagazine.blogspot.com . Drop a line to Matt Louis and his editorial crew and let 'em know you appreciate their work.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The Coen Brothers said in their acceptance speech at last year's Oscars that perhaps their success with adaptations was due to their pickiness in material saying they'd only adapted Cormac McCarthy and Homer. But that didn't ring true to me. They've made no bones about their fondness for James M. Cain and the direct influence his writing had on The Man Who Wasn't There and I think some pretty interesting parallels could be drawn between Miller's Crossing and Cain's Love's Lovely Counterfeit, but I'm thinking of The Big Lebowski. "Ah" you'll say, but Lebowski was mere homage to Raymond Chandler, and there may be something to that, but it's not Chandler I'm referring to. In 1976 Newton Thornburg published an atomic sour-ball of a thriller called Cutter and Bone. Set in its own time, it depicted a post-Vietnam America succumbing to rot from all directions. At the center of the story is Richard Bone, a former husband and father, now California beach bum, societal dropout scraping by as a handyman gigolo. His best friend is Alex Cutter, a bitter, damaged Vietnam veteran who has sacrificed various parts of his body and crucial parts of his humanity for his country. Bone has a love/hate relationship with Cutter, who gives him a place to live in between sugar-mommas, but drives him and everyone else away with his scathing diatribes on culture and depravity and gleefully points out hypocrisy and moral shortcomings everywhere he sees them, especially in himself and his friends. One night Bone witnesses the body of a young girl being dumped in a trashcan and after telling the police he could not identify the dumper, makes the mistake of musing to Cutter the possibility that it was a wealthy businessman he saw do the dumping. And they're off. Bone wants to forget he said anything the minute it leaves his mouth. He just wants to get back to the easy dope haze he calls home, but Cutter will not let go and drags him into a wild investigation of "the man" who stands for everything wrong with the world that can't be pointed to in their own example. The book is strong, hard stuff and was made into the movie Cutter's Way in 1981. The film is pretty good on its own terms, but just can't pack the same punch delivered by the book. But get this, Jeff Bridges plays Bone in the movie. Watch Cutter's Way and The Big Lebowski back to back and try not to see the connections. Is Lebowski a sequel? Or a remake? I think it goes way beyond homage. The Dude and Walter are far less tragic than Bone and Cutter, but they carry the faint echo into the 1990's of the original 1970's scream. I don't think the Coens will ever comment on it, but the glazed smirk of Jeff Bridges' Lebowski says it all. A wink's the same as a nod, Dude. Perhaps Lebowski deserves an entirely new category, (though if O Brother Where Art Thou counts as a straight adaptation...). Can't wait to see what The Yiddish Policeman's Union becomes through their lense.
Posted by jedidiah ayres at 7:19 AM