Film Review: BOB ROBERTS (1992, Tim Robbins)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 102 minutes.
Tag-line: "Vote first. Ask questions later."
Notable Cast or Crew:  Tim Robbins (THE PLAYER, TAPEHEADS), Giancarlo Esposito (DO THE RIGHT THING, THE USUAL SUSPECTS), Alan Rickman (DIE HARD, MICHAEL COLLINS),  Ray Wise (TWIN PEAKS, SWAMP THING), Gore Vidal (GATTACA, MYRA BRECKINRIDGE), Harry Lennix (TITUS, DOLLHOUSE), Tom Atkins (THE FOG, HALLOWEEN III: SEASON OF THE WITCH), David Strathairn (THE RIVER WILD, SNEAKERS), James Spader (TUFF TURF, Pamela Reed (TANNER '88, THE RIGHT STUFF), Helen Hunt (TRANCERS, PROJECT X, TWISTER), Peter Gallagher (THE UNDERNEATH, MALICE, THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO LITTLE), Lynne Thigpen (WHERE IN THE WORLD IS CARMEN SANDIEGO, SHAFT '00), Jack Black (THE NEVERENDING STORY III, DEMOLITION MAN), Susan Sarandon (THE HUNGER, THELMA & LOUISE), Fred Ward (REMO WILLIAMS: THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES, THE PLAYER), Fisher Stevens (SHORT CIRCUIT, MY SCIENCE PROJECT), Bob Balaban (CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, MOONRISE KINGDOM), John Cusack (TAPEHEADS, THE GRIFTERS), Jeremy Piven (DR. JEKYLL & MS. HYDE, THE PLAYER).  Cinematography by Jean Lépine (THE PLAYER, TANNER '88).
Best One-liner: "The times they are a-changin' back!"

I'll begin this review with a quote from IT CAN'T HAPPEN HERE, a 1935 novel novel by Sinclair Lewis, which imagines America's first Fascist president. He's a fellow by the name of "Buzz Windrip," and his coronation takes place at a convention in Cleveland. I'll let Lewis describe him for you:

"[Buzz] was vulgar, almost illiterate, a public liar easily detected, and in his 'ideas' almost idiotic, while his celebrated piety was that of a traveling salesman for church furniture, and his yet more celebrated humor the sly cynicism of a country store. Certainly there was nothing exhilarating in the actual words of his speeches, nor anything convincing in his philosophy. His political platforms were only wings of a windmill. 

...Aside from his dramatic glory, Buzz Windrip was a Professional Common Man. Oh, he was common enough.  He had every prejudice and aspiration of every American Common Man. ...But he was the Common Man twenty-times-magnified by his oratory, so that while the other Commoners could understand his every purpose, which was exactly the same as their own, they saw him towering above them, and they raised hands to him in worship."

BOB ROBERTS––Tim Robbins' equally prescient 1992 political mockumentary––essentially picks up where Sinclair Lewis left off. It tells the story of a populist Pennsylvanian singer, Bob Roberts (Tim Robbins),

who is running for the U.S. Senate against a stereotypically intellectual incumbent (Gore Vidal).

Apparently Gore Vidal improvised much of his dialogue by reciting his own political positions.

Equally inspired by the panoramic satire of Robert Altman (with whom Robbins collaborated three times) and the comedic sensibilities of THIS IS SPINAL TAP, Robbins creates one of the more perceptive, mean-spirited, and amusing political films of our time. ...And, at the risk of quoting Richard Nixon, we need it "now more than ever."
 
This movie had been on my to-see list for some time, and when I read J.D. at Radiator Heaven's wonderful take on it this March, I knew I had to track it down.

A breezy corporate "folk" singer with the trappings of Bob Dylan and the lyrics of Jordan Belfort,

Bob Roberts traffics in yuppie syllogisms, evangelical pandering, white pride dog-whistling, and priggish sanctimony. The Sixties' pendulum has swung back; Bob (semi-sincerely?) considers himself a rebel patriot, and his campaign possesses all the civil apparatus of a social revolution, but he's fighting against ideals like tolerance, enlightenment, and general civility. This brash refutation of Sixties' youth movements feels like the natural outgrowth of the contemporary corporate "nonconformists" who brought us the profundity of a Nike ad using The Beatles' "Revolution" in 1988.

The lyrics of Bob's songs are brilliant in the way the lyrics in THIS IS SPINAL TAP are brilliant––what they're mocking (hair metal and nativist movements, respectively) already exists on such a plane of absurdity that it's nearly indistinguishable from the genuine article. Whether he's firing broadsides at the "nation of complainers" addicted to entitlement culture:

"Like this: / It's society's fault I don't have a job / It's society's fault I'm a slob / I'm a drunk, I don't have a brain / Give me a pamplet while I complain / Hey pal you're living in the land of the free / no one's gonna hand you opportunity..."

engaging in colonial cosplay:


or singing the dangers of letting "Godless men" in past our walls, who'll "take the jobs of the decent ones":




we've sort of moved beyond satire, and into "reenactment," a mirror reflection of the worst angels of our nature (with the fringe fantasies of 1992 existing in the limelight of 2016).

Tim Robbins perfectly inhabits the role of the neighborly fanatic, the apple-pie extremist; excellent at glad-handing, even as he lines you up against the wall. Certainly every politician carries a bit of the "poseur" about them, but the cold-blooded strain that flows through Bob Roberts is chilling, and all too real. The rest of the cast is wonderful, and fully in tune with the grotesque tendencies of the American political system––it's a veritable playground for character actors and glorified cameos, like:

Alan Rickman, as Bob's campaign chairman (and Oliver North stand-in), whose performance is filled with serpentine acting choices that hint at hidden menace:



Ray Wise as Bob's campaign manager, who's able to play off of Rickman's terrifying energy with one of the best glossy, soulless smiles in film history:

It's a veritable 'soulless smile' showdown.

Tom Atkins as Bob's jovial/oddly intimidating personal physician:


Giancarlo Esposito as an obsessive progressive journalist, who could very well be a character from an Oliver Stone film:


Jack Black as an unbalanced teen (you know the kind, the kid who carves swastikas into desks and burns you with paper clips) who finds in Bob Roberts what TAXI DRIVER's Travis Bickle could only dream he'd get out of the Palatine campaign:


Bob Balaban as a thinly-veiled version of Lorne Michaels (during a controversial Bob Roberts television appearance, with SNL transformed into "CUTTING EDGE LIVE") and John Cusack as a politically outspoken actor:


Peter Gallagher, Helen Hunt,  Lynne Thigpen, James Spader,

Fisher Stevens,

Susan Sarandon & Fred Ward,

and Pamela Reed as newscasters.

Pamela Reed, star of Robert Altman's political mockumentary HBO miniseries TANNER '88. Clearly, the Gary Trudeau-penned series was a major influence on BOB ROBERTS (though it is considerably less mean-spirited), and Robbins even hired the same cinematographer, Jean Lépine.

Essentially, Bob Roberts' candidacy begins as a joke, builds momentum,

balloons to a size that the responsibly rational can no longer ignore,



Roberts' goons rough up the protesters...

and ends in a dark, dark place––far darker than most satirical comedy dares to go. As usual, the true horror is in the way these Fascist tendencies mushroom and flourish among the mob, like a night-flowering vine, or at least like an episode of THE TWILIGHT ZONE:


Five stars.

––Sean Gill

Film Review: DIE HARD (1988, John McTiernan)

Stars: 5 of 5.

Running Time: 131 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew:  Starring Bruce Willis (BLIND DATE, HUDSON HAWK), Bonnie Bedelia (SALEM'S LOT, THE BOY WHO COULD FLY), Reginald VelJohnson (GHOSTBUSTERS, TURNER & HOOCH), Paul Gleason (THE BREAKFAST CLUB, MANIAC COP 3), William Atherton (GHOSTBUSTERS, BIODOME), Hart Bochner (TERROR TRAIN, SUPERGIRL), James Shigeta (Sam Fuller's THE CRIMSON KIMONO, Takeshi Kitano's BROTHER), Alan Rickman (ROBIN HOOD: PRINCE OF THIEVES, BOB ROBERTS), Alexander Godunov (WITNESS, THE MONEY PIT), Al Leong (LETHAL WEAPON, BILL & TED'S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE), Dennis Hayden (MURPHY'S LAW, ANOTHER 48 HRS.), Robert Davi (THE GOONIES, LICENSE TO KILL), Grand L. Bush (DEMOLITION MAN, LETHAL WEAPON), Mary Ellen Trainor (LETHAL WEAPON, THE GOONIES), Tracy Reiner (A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN, APOLLO 13).  Based on the novel by Roderick Thorp (THE DETECTIVE, DEVLIN).  Written by Jeb Stuart (LOCKUP, THE FUGITIVE) and Steven E. de Souza (COMMANDO, 48 HRS.). Music by Michael Kamen (TOP GUN, X-MEN).  Cinematography by Jan de Bont (FLESH + BLOOD, BASIC INSTINCT).  Casting by Jackie Burch (PREDATOR, THE BREAKFAST CLUB). 

Tag-line: "Twelve terrorists. One cop. The odds are against John McClane... That's just the way he likes it."

Best one-liner: "Now I have a machine gun. Ho, ho, ho."

How is it that I've been at this for eight Christmases and have never reviewed DIE HARD, a film that's certainly a prime contender for "Best Christmas Movie of All Time" (though originally released in July '88) and "Best Action Movie of All Time?"  It's probably because I felt that there was little I could write that hadn't already been written.

...But I'll say it all anyway: DIE HARD is a meticulously crafted work of kinetic perfection; the action movie equivalent of a Rolls-Royce, a Swiss watch, a Fabergé egg.  It has moments of subtle, white-knuckle suspense worthy of Hitchcock, but isn't afraid to juxtapose them with orgies of exploding squibs, sparks, and disintegrating sugar glass straight out of COMMANDO.

The set-up is deceptively simple; essentially a skyscraper chamber-piece.  "Twelve terrorists, thirty hostages, and one surly cop in the wrong place at the right time."  It draws us in with pedestrian scenes of airports, Christmas parties, and marital tension before snapping its trap shut on the flawed yet noble John McClane (Bruce Willis), our breezy-but-occasionally-tortured blue-collar everyman hero. We like him because he wants to ride in the front seat of the limo with the driver. We like him because he's naive enough to think the bigger the teddy bear he buys, the more of a hit he'll be with the kids.

Alec Baldwin later delivers the exact same teddy to his kid in McTiernan's HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER.

We understand his apprehension at his wife's reverting to her maiden name


but roll our eyes at how he handles it later, mid-argument. We appreciate that he doesn't overreact when he's smooched by a man at the Christmas party,

but note that he can't resist muttering "Fuckin' California," afterward.

Within a three-minute span, he grapples with his impotence in the face of a female breadwinner, and then the impotence of his one handgun versus twelve machine-gunning terrorists.

In this––the key moment of fight or flight––he in fact flees the overwhelming odds in order to regroup and reorganize. John McClane is the human animal, warts and all.  As he describes himself, "the fly in the ointment, the monkey in the wrench,"

and therefore he must react, adapt, create, destroy, and survive.  It ain't called DIE EASY.

By the time the shit hits the fan, we slowly realize that director John McTiernan and screenwriter Steven E. de Souza are actually chess masters, skillfully arranging the characters across the board of Nakatomi Plaza.  Our king is without shoes, and on the move.  There's a knight hiding in the parking garage, unawares.  And a pawn might just cross the board entirely to become a major player... 

In how it relays exposition, sets up spatial relationships, and allows the audience to occasionally know more than principals, DIE HARD ought to be studied in film schools as the quintessence of action storytelling.  Books could be written about how it accomplishes what it does, though unfortunately, I don't have the time.  So, without further ado, allow me to share fifteen of the (many) things that make DIE HARD so special for me:

#15.  Willis' schmacting.

Ohh, he's over the top.  And ohh, it works. Fresh off of MOONLIGHTING and BLIND DATE, he's usually overindicating, eyebrows furrowed, mouth agape,

and much of the film is him, alone, talking to himself, shouting things like "Think, goddamnit, think!"  Throughout this, he's effortlessly likable, and I'm not so sure Willis has figured that out yet.

...Which is a good thing.  See also: the latter-half of Willis' career.


#14. Argyle (De'voreaux White).  As Willis' kooky, teenage limo driver, Argyle rocks out to Run-D.M.C., enjoys an evening with the mini-bar (and the giant teddy), and is smoother with the ladies than Stefan Urquelle. 

Argyle shoulda had his own 80s sitcom.  Shoulda been called ARGYLE.


 #13.  Hart Bochner as Ellis, a coked-out yuppie wheeler-dealer and epitome of 80s L.A.  (I'll always  wonder if he was inspired by Hollywood execs McTiernan and de Souza had known.)

He delivers the film's best line, which is clearly "Sprechen sie talk?"

and in his selfish blundering is infinitely hateable,

though Bochner gives a tragic edge to his basic incompetence and short-sightedness.  His oily, low-rent hucksterism stands in sharp contrast to another man with a neatly trimmed beard and an expensive suit...



 #12. Alan Rickman as Hans Gruber, who imbues his villainy with a serpentine finesse.

In his film debut, Rickman very nearly owns the picture outright.

And even with everything else going on, his fake American accent in one memorable sequence is worth the price of admission alone.


#11.  Alexander Godunov.  With (literal) balletic grace, he's the key heavy to Rickman's mastermind.

I'd like to see his character battle Gary Busey's from LETHAL WEAPON.  It'd be a true face-off between blonde, secondary villains of clever late 80s Christmas action movies who survive the climax against all odds to rear their heads again and be gunned down at the last second by our white hero's black partner. Whew.


#10.  Andreas Wisniewski as Godunov's brother.

He couldn't look more German if he was wearing a black Kraftwerk turtleneck.  He kinda looks like Heino, actually. Good show, guy.


#9. Stuntman and 80s mainstay Al Leong.

He probably gets the least amount of screentime of any of the terrorists, but in this moment (when he sneaks a free candy bar pre-firefight) he becomes a legend.


#8.  The rest of the terrorists.  Most everyone looks like they're on the way back from a male modeling shoot,

or perhaps an audition to become members of Tangier.

I like the idea that Hans Gruber made everybody submit headshots to join his crew, and only accepted the ones who'd fit in on stage at Glam Hair Metal concert.  In fact, maybe his original plan was not taking over Nakatomi, but instead infiltrating a Europe concert, mid-"Final Countdown."


#7.  Media commentary.

About halfway through the film, the local TV crews become involved in this clusterfuck, and it begins to play out sort of like a mean-spirited MARY TYLER MOORE spin-off, with soulless anchors David Ursin (HALLOWEEN 5, SPACE JAM) and Mary Ellen Trainor (THE GOONIES, LETHAL WEAPON) sparring with selfish producer/field man William Atherton.



In the end, it's Atherton, one of the great pompous 80s villains (who between this and GHOSTBUSTERS was often harassed by fans who could not distinguish the man from the fiction), who really crosses the line in a moment of quiet drama involving an immigrant housekeeper.


These miniature dramas, often playing out on the periphery, give DIE HARD much of its pathos and contribute to a real 'lived-in' quality.


#6. Schwarzenegger shout-out.

Whether this is a nod to Arnold for appearing in McTiernan's PREDATOR, or an attempt to create a Willis vs. Schwarzenegger rivalry (á la the well-documented Schwarzenegger vs. Stallone one), I welcome it.


#5.  Agents Johnson and Johnson.


It's sort of a stupid gag, but who cares?  It's ubiquitous 80s action players Grand L. Bush and Robert Davi, doing their thing as conceited FBI blowhards.

Their finest moment plays out during a helicopter assault with Davi reliving 'Nam with Bush as his foil:





#4.  Creativity and guerrilla warfare.  Outnumbered and outgunned, Willis must resort to guerrilla tactics of invention, theatricality, and psychological impact.  The greatest of these is his classic "NOW I HAVE A MACHINE GUN HO-HO-HO" stagecraft,

though elsewhere he McGuyvers his way through a number of scenarios involving office furniture, computers,

paper towels, walkie-talkies, Playboy centerfolds, fire hoses, and the like.

#3. Speaking of walkie-talkies: the peculiar dynamics of communication.


Through the simple plot device of terrorists, cops, and McClane using the same frequency to communicate, de Souza orchestrates some of the most well-constructed scenarios in the film; Rickman communicating to his men without tipping off Willis and the cops, Willis trying to win the trust of cops on the ground without Rickman learning too much, and bungling municipal bureaucracy led by THE BREAKFAST CLUB's Paul Gleason,

playing the fictional embodiment of every frustrating, self-centered, tone-deaf boss who ever lived, trying (and failing) to sell his department's party line on the (walkie-talkie) party line.  All of this allows for expanding the scope of the story without undoing the essential claustrophobia of the premise.


#2.  Carl Winslow, er, I mean Sgt. Al Powell (Reginald VelJohnson).

From the moment we meet him (loading up on Twinkies and bullshitting with a convenience store employee), he's the film's moral core. He mostly plays an "audience member" to the carnage at Nakatomi, exuding pathos and support throughout, piecing together the story and characters, and processing it emotionally.  At the end, when the ordeal finally comes to a close and Willis' and VelJohnson's spheres physically intersect... why, it's movie magic!

Best friends!

#1.  The transformation. Time passes.  The human animal endures.  The scrapes and scratches and gouges multiply.  The number of cigarettes dwindles.

When we first meet John McClane, he's casual and confident.  His mind is focused on things like reconciliation and sleeping arrangements.  By the end, he's practically been through the TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE or DELIVERANCE.  He's bruised and damaged, lurching around like a Universal monster, nigh unrecognizable.

He's found his footing (no matter how bloody) and has endured.  The battered animal is brought back to Earth with the love of his wife and (new) best friend.  It's a Christmas miracle!


Five stars.  DIE HARD, ladies and gentlemen.  Merry Christmas!


––Sean Gill