The Take 1974 - Robert Hartford-Davis - Billy Dee Williams stars in this adaptation of G.F. Newman's novel Sir, You Bastard (first of the Bastard titles, followed by You Nice Bastard and You Flash Bastard) about a bent cop named Terry Sneed who sees business opportunities when he's brought in to turn back a crime wave. Changing the character's race and moving the locale from England to New Mexico probably amplified the cynically fun possibilities. Think blaxsploitation Red Harvest/Yojimbo/Fist Full of Dollars with the handsome anit-hero taking on the the cops and the mob. Yes please.
The Take 1990 - Leon Ichaso - TV adaptation of the Eugene Izzi novel about a ex-con, ex-dirty cop running afoul of the mob in Chicago. Fucking solid premise. Haven't seen it though.
The Take 2007 - Brad Furman - The solid cast and a script from where'd-they-go? sibling film makers Joshua Pate and Jonas Pate, whose debut Deceiver tickled my fat fancy ten years earlier, drew me to this tale of an armored car driver injured during and suspected of engineering a heist who takes fate into his own hands when he sets out to find the thieves who wrecked his life, but man... I don't remember anything special here. Furman has since made The Lincoln Lawyer, Runner Runner and The Infiltrator and I can't decide how that makes me feel about revisiting this one for a fresh take - I certainly like his playground, but none have made any impression on me.
The Take 2009 - David Drury - This four-part television adaptation of Martina Cole's novel follows fresh outta prison Freddy (all-snarl and sneer Tom Hardy) on his violent ascent and subsequent fall from the top of the underground. Affairs of family, both blood and criminal, take center stage and every character loves and hates every other character with equal commitment leaving lines betwixt passion and savagery blurry at best. By the end everybody's been beaten, stabbed, screwed or shot by everybody else and if that doesn't sound like a recommendation you haven't been paying attention. Nasty fun.
The Take (aka Bastille Day) 2016 - James Watkins - A weird mix of Samuel Fuller's Pickup on South Street and TV's 24, squeezed through the sensibilities of the Taken franchise and Olympus/London Has Fallen. I'm beginning to think Idris Elba may be the black Clive Owen - a performer whose on-screen presence I'm always happy to see, but whose projects rarely come close to deserving them. Head and shoulders above Taken and the ...Has Fallens, but dear Lord well short of the charisma on hand. Please, let's get Elba a good vehicle.
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
Where's the Brief? Dawn
Dawn - d: Rose McGowan w: M.A. Fortin, Joshua John Miller - Tara Lynne Barr is the titular Dawn, a shy and sheltered girl determined to see a little more of the world.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Harry Dean Stanton RIP
With the passing of Harry Dean Stanton we may have to permanently retire the phrase 'hang-dog expression' as no one else may ever fit it so well. Those soulful eyes set deep and resting atop oftten un-shaven jowls (jowls - on a skinny guy) could convey hardness and cynicism as effectively as bottomless wells of tender-hearted warmth and vulnerability.
His body of work includes too many important (to me) films to try and cover in a single piece, but I've assembled a very personal top-five Harry Dean Stanton moments.
Big Love - As Roman Grant, patriarch and prophet of a polygamous Mormon cult who travels everywhere in a well-armed caravan of white SUVs, he is a straight up gangster bringing physical as well as spiritual menace to the proceedings - especially in the first few seasons of the show. The first scene of him trying to muscle in on estranged son in law Bill Paxton's successful business via blackmail is some shiver-inducing shit.
Paris, Texas - As the lonely figure wandering through the desert in Wim Wenders' adaptation of Sam Shepard's play he spends the first eternity of his performance almost entirely mute - confused, haunted, determined - but he drops the heavy anchor of the film's emotional core in a scene of dialogue with peep-show performer Nastassja Kinski. Separated by a one-way mirror and using a telephone, the barriers between the characters are slowly dissolved and the stage is set for a second similar encounter that packs a wallop.
Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid - A bit player in Sam Peckinpah's oft-maligned (and I've only seen the restored version - so maybe it really did suck for decades) meditation on betrayal, Harry Dean Stanton has a single show-stealing moment that nicely frames the whole film. When Kris Kristofferson's laconically charismatic Billy breaks out of jail and unexpectedly catches up to his gang bunked out in the middle of the night Stanton's Luke gives up his spot in the bed he's sharing with a woman Billy wants to sleep with. He's disappointed to, he's jealous, but he's also happy to see his friend alive and assumes beta-dog position without it a showdown. The look on his face and his body language in the scene pretty much sums up all the film's themes. Breaks my heart every time.
Repo Man - As Bud, mentor to Emilio Estevez's Otto in Alex Cox's weird masterpiece, Stanton has the lion's share of good lines, but it's hard to imagine another actor who could take the contempt the young punk throws his way and hand it back to him so expertly folded and origami'd that initial scorn becomes admiration and hero worship. The 'the life of a repo man is always intense' scene deserves iconic status.
Wild At Heart - As Johnnie Farragut, P.I. and whipped dog to Diane Ladd's Marietta Fortune in David Lynch's expanding adaptation of Barry Gifford's novel, Stanton has many memorable moments - driving across the swampy south tapping his fingers on his way to New Orleans, yipping at a hyena on the hotel television and bemoaning the sexual possibilities he and Ladd are passing up by hitting the road instead of staying in that king-sized bed - but it's his final doomed moments being tormented by Grace Zabriski, Calvin Lockhart and David Patrick Kelly as a trio of hired voodoo killers that he looks at the camera, sighs 'oh Marietta' and conveys that he may be a sap and a cuck-hold, but he's no fool - he knew this end was a strong possibility, but he made his own choices with his eyes open, and he'd probably make them again, for the love of a woman who doesn't return it.
A few more films I love that he sometimes anchored, other times supported and occasionally made no more than a cameo-appearance in, but, held so much character in his face that he, enriched and sold the entire atmosphere of: Alien, Alpha Dog, Cockfighter, Cool Hand Luke, Dillinger, Escape From New York, In the Heat of the Night, 92 in the Shade, The Pledge, Ride in the Whirlwind, Seven Psychopaths, The Straight Story, Straight Time, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me and Two-Lane Blacktop.
I was already very much looking forward to John Carroll Lynch's Lucky, but oh man, now I bet it's going to land like an anvil on my heart.
Thursday, September 14, 2017
Jonathan Ashley
Woke up to news this morning that my friend Jonathan Ashley died last night.
I only spent time with him once in person - it was last year when he came to St. Louis for a N@B event. He read from his novel The Cost of Doing Business and hearing him read it - his own words, in his own voice - gave some soul and world-weariness to the otherwise humorous passage that stuck with me.
Even though we only met the one time I call him a friend because we talked to each other that way. He used to call me on the phone and tell me how he was feeling - excited, depressed, frustrated, concerned, inspired - and he frequently asked for advice, acknowledgement, consideration, prayer and forgiveness.
He pushed further in to me - asked more from me personally - than most casual friends I have had.
And because he asked I tried to give.
I don't think I gave him much. It wasn't enough. But I was happy to give what I could. It was an honor that he talked plainly to me about his needs and failures. We had those to bond over.
Weakness and moral failure are the cement of some of my closest friendships. I've got tons to share.
Jon was a talented, insightful artist. He was also a friend whose personal expressions sometimes had the charge of exposed wire and raw nerve. I will miss his work, but I will miss our talks more.
I only spent time with him once in person - it was last year when he came to St. Louis for a N@B event. He read from his novel The Cost of Doing Business and hearing him read it - his own words, in his own voice - gave some soul and world-weariness to the otherwise humorous passage that stuck with me.
Even though we only met the one time I call him a friend because we talked to each other that way. He used to call me on the phone and tell me how he was feeling - excited, depressed, frustrated, concerned, inspired - and he frequently asked for advice, acknowledgement, consideration, prayer and forgiveness.
He pushed further in to me - asked more from me personally - than most casual friends I have had.
And because he asked I tried to give.
I don't think I gave him much. It wasn't enough. But I was happy to give what I could. It was an honor that he talked plainly to me about his needs and failures. We had those to bond over.
Weakness and moral failure are the cement of some of my closest friendships. I've got tons to share.
Jon was a talented, insightful artist. He was also a friend whose personal expressions sometimes had the charge of exposed wire and raw nerve. I will miss his work, but I will miss our talks more.
Wednesday, September 13, 2017
Frank Vincent RIP
The Pope of Greenwich Village
Do the Right Thing
Last Exit to Brooklyn
Goodfellas
Mortal Thoughts
Jungle Fever
Casino
Cop Land
The Sopranos
Monday, September 11, 2017
The Deuce Drops
Second, the time period and subject matter - 1970s New York City when Times Square was an open air vice bazaar - are a huge sweet spot for my interests.
If you, like me, are going to have a hard time waiting week to week or for DVD release in a year lemme suggest a few other items that might tickle your (funny) bone.
Across 110th Street - Barry Shear - Based on a novel by Wally Ferris and bolstered by the soundtrack by Bobby Womack this is probably the go-to crime film for getting into the time (1972) and place. Black and white cops have to work together to straddle the world where the only thing that is keeping black and white criminal organizations from killing each other is the love of money. When a trio of desperate characters rip off a mob joint, the under and over-worlds unite against them
The Forty-Two - Ed Kurtz - A love letter to the deuce circa 1979 disguised as a murder thriller, Kurtz packs more pop and poop culture references into this one than... y'know what? It's kind of the porn and horror version of Ready Player One (it's a lot better than that).
Hardcore - Paul Schrader - George C. Scott plays a religious man whose runaway daughter shows up in a stag film and he embarks on a rescue mission to save her. Of course his motives and her reality will require reckoning with before the movies' end. This is the decidedly non-groovy tour of the sex work underworld, but it's not square, daddy-o, it's shattering.
Inside Deep Throat - Fenton Bailey, Randy Barbato - Very engaging documentary about the seminal film's impact on cinema, crime and culture in general.
Johnny Porno - Charlie Stella - The fictional version of the mob and porno industry. Stella knows the period, the characters and may have even seen a blue movie or two in his life. Good shit.
King Suckerman - Geore Pelecanos - The Deuce is not Pelecanos' first trip to the seventies. This 1997 novel set twenty some years earlier recreates the vibe of the film, literature and music of the era. It's super funky.
The Mack - Michael Campus - In the golden age of blaxsploitation flicks this one stands out by not setting out to be exploitation at all. It's a socially engaged picture about a pimp in Oakland, but that doesn't keep it from being groovy too.
Mr. Untouchable - Marc Levin - This documentary about 1970s Harlem dope king Nicky Barnes is a terrific portrait of guts, greed and hubris that will probably run parallel to The Deuce's storyline if the show lasts a few years.
Peepland by Christa Faust, Gary Phillips and Andrea Camerini - a murder mystery/corruption thriller set against the backdrop of the peepshows and porno houses and punk rock venues of the early eighties - brought to life by in the know writing and lovingly recreated in gorgeous artwork. First trade collection is out now.
Sick City by Tony O'Neill - okay, not the 70s or New York City, but man, if you wanna get grimy, dig the squalor of this book's world. It's all shootin up, popping pills, sucking dick and stealing shit. It's a real good time. (And if you've already read it, get on the sequel Black Neon - it's crazy good too).
Summer of Sam - Spike Lee - Lee's neighborhood portrait looks at the summer of 1977 when David Berkowitz aka The Son of Sam killer was shooting folks on orders from a demon inside the dog next door. Paranoia and excessive heat inflame the already tense atmosphere of the residents of the Bronx and the strong ensemble criss cross in Altman-esque fashion. Kinda hypnotic. Great soundtrack too.
Taxi Driver - Martin Scorsese - Do I really need to tell you to watch this one? The disgust of Travis Bickle reads like a love letter to a bygone era that probably deserves its own iconic stamp on the back of an I HEART NY t-shirt - Listen, you fuckers, you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Indeed.
Wednesday, September 6, 2017
South of Cincinnati
Today Jonathan Ashley spills about the origins and influences of his latest novel South of Cincinnati. I take note of Ashley's interests since his first guest piece here a couple years ago - a thoughtful piece on David Goodis and Charles Willeford called Obscure Lives, Quiet Deaths, and Noir's Forgotten Men of Tepid Conscience (great title, no?).
Ashley's musician background also informs his literary sensibilities - check out his South of Cincinnati play list at The Largehearted Boy. Be sure to follow him on Twitter for all the latest @JonAshley_Books then pick up a copy of South of Cincinnati and be the first person on your cell block to leave a review.
Ashley's musician background also informs his literary sensibilities - check out his South of Cincinnati play list at The Largehearted Boy. Be sure to follow him on Twitter for all the latest @JonAshley_Books then pick up a copy of South of Cincinnati and be the first person on your cell block to leave a review.
South of Cincinnati Top Five Influences
Mean Streets – I’d like to think of this novel as kind of a southern and far more darkly comedic homage to Scorsese’s first gangster picture. It’s about the petty larceny that leads to organized crime that leads to fallout and tragedy. And, much like in Mean Streets, the two main characters are basically jack-offs in over their heads. But the decisions they make under pressure reveal their true characters, which one is the loyal stand-up guy and which would turn fink to save himself from facing the logical consequences of his actions. Scorsese, a devout Catholic, I believe, loves portraying his characters struggling with the divine inside of them versus the unholy commissions of vanity and ego, reinforced by concomitant criminals and their shifting allegiances. It’s real too. No one breaks down and renounces the bent life, even after bad shit happens that would shock most of us into a nine-to-five white picket fence existence. God is not good for business. And while I remain vague and secular in the novel’s moral compass, my characters all, willingly or not and often violently, atone for their sins. All but one, who I’ll deal with in the shocker of a series finale, The Last Fallout, atones.
The Rolling Stones – Duh? Martin Scorsese’s favorite band and one I listened to through most of the writing and editing of the novel. Their covers of Drift Away and Let It Loose inspired two of the more heartbreaking sequences.
Tower by Ken Bruen and Reed Farrel Coleman – Who would have ever thought a novel written by two people would flow so seamlessly. From what I hear, Bruen wrote the first half, and Coleman the second. Read the book and tell me if you noticed? What about Tower also informed my approach to South, or the entire trilogy for that matter? The abrupt and unapologetic plot twists in this novel hit you so unexpected, I think a few times I physically rose from my chair and cursed. And since I know it personally, I was rather attracted to the morally ambiguous world in which these nearly indistinguishable protagonists and antagonists, the killer cops and pious hoodlums, live and have their being.
Shadow Season by Tom Piccirilli – The ambiguous ending. You don’t know who exactly will survive, but you also know it doesn’t matter. These are all broken people.
Jonna Sears – It was my friend Jonna who explained to me in that extremely distracting velvet sandpaper voice – and guys, please don’t go all phallic referencing on this – with prose, often less is more.
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