Film Review: THE MEN'S CLUB (1986, Peter Medak)

Stars: 2 of 5.

Running Time: 101 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew: Roy Scheider (JAWS, ALL THAT JAZZ), Frank Langella (FROST/NIXON, BRAINSCAN), Richard Jordan (DUNE '84, THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE), Craig Wasson (BODY DOUBLE, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET III: DREAM WARRIORS), Treat Williams (HAIR, DEAD HEAT), David Dukes (RAWHEAD REX, GODS AND MONSTERS), Stockard Channing (GREASE, SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION), Jennifer Jason Leigh (SHORT CUTS, SINGLE WHITE FEMALE).

Tag-line:  "The Breakfast Club.  The Big Chill.  And now The Men's Club."
Best one-liner:  Not really.

What is THE MEN'S CLUB?  I saw the damn thing, and I'm not sure I can tell you.  It feels like a play and reads like a block-headed sleazy macho paperback for yuppie dickheads, and yet is performed like a master's class in acting.  It sure doesn't have much in common with THE BREAKFAST CLUB or THE BIG CHILL, as the tag-line promises, though all three works involve groups of people talking to one another indoors about a variety of topics.

From the talented Peter Medak, director of THE RULING CLASS, THE CHANGELING, BREAKIN' THROUGH, and many other favorites of the Junta Juleil canon, comes the story of a group of professional and semi-professional philandering dudes who deliver monologues about how difficult their lives are.  Said dudes are portrayed by some of the finest actors of their generation, from Roy Scheider to Harvey Keitel to Frank Langella to Richard Jordan.  And they're giving it their all...(especially Scheider)... they just happen to be in THE MEN'S CLUB.

I can't really begin to describe THE MEN'S CLUB, nor do I really want to, but I can tell you about the few spectacular things that happen in it.

#1.  The Lee Holdridge soundtrack, which is spit-take inducingly fabulous.  Full of slap-happy slap bass, muted trumpets, wailing saxes, and smoove, easy listening grooves, I was sort of surprised that my walls didn't spontaneously sprout green felt and transform my apartment into a seedy, smoke-filled lounge where Malibu was consumed by the gallon and impromptu soft-core pornography shoots materialized out of thin air.  In short, I'm a little upset that the soundtrack has never received an official release.

#2.  How 'bout a Madame... with a frightening ventriloquist's dummy...

 
....who's peddling a young Jennifer Jason Leigh who's dolled up to sort of look like young Melanie Griffith?  I don't know what to tell you.


#3. I swear Harvey Keitel's contracts must include nudity in them.  They have to.  It's like how Van Damme's contracts must include splits and Burt Reynolds' must include bar-fights and Bronson's must have involved dummies plummeting from great heights. 

Anyway.

#4.  Frank Langella, reborn via midlife crisis into a suspender-wearing, post-80s New Wave makeup wearing-dude who looks like an extra from the Elton John "I'm Still Standing" music video.  I can't believe my eyes.


So there you have it– all the highlights of THE MEN'S CLUB without having to actually watch it.  Phew.

–Sean Gill

Film Review: BODY DOUBLE (1984, Brian De Palma)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 114 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Craig Wasson (MALCOLM X, NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 3), Melanie Griffith, Gregg Henry (PAYBACK, RAISING CAIN, UNITED 93), Dennis Franz (DIE HARD 2, NYPD BLUE), and Frankie Goes to Hollywood.
Tag-line: "A seduction. A mystery. A murder."
Best one-liner: "I'd buy THAT for a dollar!"

Well, Hitchock pastiche/rip-off week fittingly continues with more De Palma.

Brian De Palma's films generally attempt to maintain a careful balance of fanboyism, pretentiousness, homage, morbid exuberance, and practical jokery. That balance can be skewed all too easily, and then the house of cards comes tumbling down- luckily, that's not the case here. It's full of scenes that we've all seen before, be it following the mystery woman and kissing her at the seaside (VERTIGO), spying on the neighbors with a telescopic lens (REAR WINDOW),

or seeing a sexy lady skewered by a ginormous drill (SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE),



but, like the best of Argento, De Palma strings it all together with an sincerely compelling whodunit, eye-popping visuals, and some ridiculous, tongue-in-cheek payoffs. Craig Wasson is our cuckolded hero, swept up into a mind-blowing mystery. He's likable, in a Bill Maher kind of way, and he organically finds himself in a series of increasingly sleazy, darkly comic scenarios (peeping, panty-stealing, contacting porn stars, etc.).

[Also of note are Melanie Griffith's cheerful, X-rated celeb, Dennis Franz's d-bag director, and Deborah Shelton's doomed ingénue.] In a sea of films that offer commentary on the seedy side of Hollywood, BODY DOUBLE manages to stand out, offering clever parallel scenes of adult movie and Shakespeare company auditions or presenting a scenario where 'acting' must be channeled in order to survive a hellish predicament (when earlier, personal trauma had to be harnessed for a role). Stunning images include a UFO-style L.A. mansion;

a glam-rock vampire suffering a bout of claustrophobia-induced paralysis (on set of a movie called 'VAMPIRE'S KISS'); and a music video of Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax," punctuated by bold purples, yellows, leopard print, and assless chaps!

Pino Donaggio's soundtrack gives us the Italian touch, as well- it alternates between Bernard Herrmann-style strings and Tangerine Dream-style (RISKY BUSINESS) synths- the former a deferent nod to the types of films De Palma would like to be making, and the latter a playful jab at the 'safe sleaze' Hollywood was doling out at the time. Say what you will about BODY DOUBLE, but it never takes the safe route. In all, it's a fun 'dark side of Tinseltown' exposé, an unhinged, self-reflexive look at filmmaking, and it's got a few genuinely creepy moments. Four stars.

-Sean Gill