Film Review: EMPEROR OF THE NORTH (1973, Robert Aldrich)

Stars: 5 of 5.

Running Time: 118 minutes.

Tag-line: "Lee Marvin and Ernest Borgnine Meet in the Fight of the Century!"

Notable Cast or Crew:  Lee Marvin (THE KILLERS, THE DELTA FORCE, THE DIRTY DOZEN), Ernest Borgnine (MARTY, ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, THE DIRTY DOZEN), Keith Carradine (THE DUELLISTS, NASHVILLE), Charles Tyner (COOL HAND LUKE, HAROLD & MAUDE), Malcolm Atterbury (THE BIRDS, RIO BRAVO), Simon Oakland (PSYCHO, WEST SIDE STORY), Elisha Cook Jr. (ROSEMARY'S BABY, THE MALTESE FALCON), Sid Haig (SPIDER BABY, COFFY), and an uncredited Lance Henriksen (ALIENS, THE TERMINATOR).  Written by Christopher Knopf (20 MILLION MILES TO EARTH, HELL BENT FOR LEATHER) and based on a short story by Jack London.  Directed by Robert Aldrich (WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE?, THE DIRTY DOZEN, KISS ME DEADLY).

Best One-liner: "You have as much a chance as a one-legged man at an asskicking contest!"

This movie's sleazier'n a bumfight in August, redder'n a hot poker, and madder'n a hobo gettin' whipped with a chain!  It's sweaty, dirty, and foamin' at the mouth.  The concept behind this film is as ridiculous as it is brilliant:  Ernest Borgnine is 'Shack'- a railroad man who'll risk his life to kill any bum who tries to hitch a free ride.

Lee Marvin is A-Number 1, a bum who lives by the bum's code, and will risk his life, just on principle, to hitch a free ride on any and every train.  
Keith Carradine is A-Number 1's protege who may or may not have what it takes to be "Emperor of the North Pole."

This movie is dripping with testosterone, tobacco juice, and blood; it calls hobos "hoboes" in an opening crawl that seems culled from a MAD MAX movie––

it features an uncredited Lance Henriksen (I think I blinked and missed him) and a young Sid Haig:

and the entire affair is as brutal as a 2x4 thwack to the guts.  And that thwack just might be accompanied by some gentle honkytonk piano.  Wait a second. Did I just see some street urchins get beaten with a live chicken by Lee Marvin?  You bet I did.



A statistically insignificant amount of animals and children were harmed in this production.

And wait for the scene where Lee, holding a live, purloined turkey, taunts a cop who asks him what he's doing with the bird.


Lee insists it's his pet dog, who's offended by the comparison to a turkey, and could the officer please...bark...now.  The now-terrified policeman quickly complies with some bow-wowing,

and Lee lets loose with a priceless facial expression that can only mean 'You'd better start barking better.'

I feel as if this is the movie that set the 'Sons of Lee Marvin' (a fan club formed by Tom Waits, Nick Cave, Jim Jarmusch, Iggy Pop, Neil Young, John Lurie) into motion.  I'd say it's a huge influence on Jarmusch's DEAD MAN, for one.

The whole thing leads up to a merciless conclusion––a no-holds-barred fight between Shack and A-Number 1 that involves hammers, spikes, axes, 2x4s, chains, and the train itself.  It's one of the most visceral battles in cinema.




It, and this entire film, are a credit to director Robert Aldrich (WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE?, THE DIRTY DOZEN, KISS ME DEADLY)'s ability to merge action and character study; Lee Marvin's sheer, enduring, haggard presence; Ernest Borgnine's twisted, gnarled, vile energy; and the ability of all three to collaborate in a manner where somehow nothing strains your suspension of disbelief.  God bless this movie.  Five stars.

–Sean Gill

Television Review: SALEM'S LOT (1979, Tobe Hooper)

Stars: 3.4 of 5.
Running Time: 183 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: David Soul (Hutch on STARSKY & HUTCH), James Mason (NORTH BY NORTHWEST, BIGGER THAN LIFE, THUNDERBIRD Commercials), Lance Kerwin (OUTBREAK, ENEMY MINE), Bonnie Bedelia (DIE HARD, THE BOY WHO COULD FLY), Elisha Cook, Jr. (THE MALTESE FALCON, ROSEMARY'S BABY, THE KILLING), George Dzundza (THE DEER HUNTER, BASIC INSTINCT), Geoffrey Lewis (BRONCO BILLY, MAVERICK), Kenneth McMillan (DUNE, RUNAWAY TRAIN, CAT'S EYE), Fred Willard (BEST IN SHOW, D.C. FOLLIES), and a very special appearance by Reggie Nalder (THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH, THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE, THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE). Co-produced by Sterling Silliphant (THE POSEIDON ADVENTURE, OVER THE TOP, TELEFON). Music by Harry Sukman (Sam Fuller's FORTY GUNS, John Carpenter's SOMEONE'S WATCHING ME!). Based on the novel by Stephen King.
Tag-line: "The ultimate in terror!"
Best one-liner: "You'll enjoy Mr. Barlow. And he'll enjoy you."

The mixture of Stephen King and prime time TV has often been a volatile, unstable compound, burdened by sloppy storytelling, questionable acting, and low production value (IT, THE SHINING '97, THE STAND). Thankfully, SALEM'S LOT is one of the better adaptations, and while it never quite achieves the height of pulpy excitement or depth of existential dread from the novel, it's still a fine entry into the pantheon of well-made 70's TV horror movies. That being said, if King's concept intrigues you, read the novel first– many shocking elements lose their impact upon 'TV-safe' translation, and the piss is taken out of several key and supporting characters (particularly in the case of 'Father Callahan,' a character so close to King's heart that he revisited his story in the DARK TOWER series).

Father Callahan, sans piss.


SALEM'S LOT dares to ask the fateful question: "Are all small towns evil?" and answers it with a resounding... YES! Even before the onset of vampirism, the little hamlet is a hotbed of hatred, perversity, abuse, and that particularly human shortcoming of 'choosing to look the other way.' But then, two visitors: the first is the mysterious Mr. Straker (James Mason)- an antique dealer whose partner Mr. Barlow has yet to make an appearance, though strange, coffin-sized shipments have recently come in to town. The second is Ben Mears (David Soul),

a native son turned successful, metropolitan author who returns home to write a novel about a primordial evil he sensed in the town as a child. And then the peculiar happenings begin...

Tobe Hooper, having wowed viewers and churned their stomachs with THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE and EATEN ALIVE, secured the directorial reins, though at different points of development, George A. Romero and Larry Cohen were attached (and Cohen later directed a late 80's sequel!). Though the 'bigger budget/TV movie' feel seems like it could subvert Hooper's gritty, no-budget, cannibalistic terrors, he's still able to maintain his aesthetic and weave a few genuinely creepy moments throughout. One of his centerpieces is the "Marsten House," the vampire HQ and home to some sort of ancient, evil presence, the exact nature of which remains enigmatic even in the novel. In the movie, it was a $100,000 façade constructed over an existing house, and the result is effective, with shades of PSYCHO.

The interior is spot-on as well, with nice Hooper touches like taxidermy installations, walls of damp and dessicated wood, and a floor covered in- I don't know... rodent bones?

Some have said that Hooper was distancing himself from THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE by making this film, but, at least while we're in the Marsten house, at any moment I half-expect Leatherface to burst through one of the walls with his chainsaw, voice raised to the heavens in that unnerving, childish squeal!

Also, the infamous "window" scene, whose content or context I shall not reveal here, lives up quite wonderfully to its reputation of scarring teevee-watching kiddies for life!

–and it does it all with a fog machine and some wires: a far cry from today's overproduced, CGI-drenched terror tales.

There are some really nice character actor roles in here, too–
We've got noir legend Elisha Cook, Jr. as a hobo wine-swigging (wait, did he buy that from James Mason?), wide-eyed vagrant, who, in a piece of gag-casting, has an old flame played by Marie Windsor, his evil harpy wife from THE KILLING!,

Elisha Cook + Thunderbird ≥ Elisha Cook + Humphrey Bogart.

George Dzundza makes a psychotic appearance as a shotgun-toting, beer-swilling, cuckolded hubby who exudes Menace with a capital 'M,'

Eastwood fave Geoffrey Lewis plays a severe, deadpan grave digger who undergoes some...unnerving (and particularly well-acted) transformations throughout,

an extremely young Bonnie Bedelia brings more to the table than expected as the Female Romantic Lead,

a fast-talkin' Fred Willard plays a delightfully skeezy real estate-man (any connection with Renfield ends there) who wears some rockin' 70's plaid suits (and he's not just "zany Willard" here, either, he delivers a powerful performance in a scene with Dzundza where he plays to the barrel of a gun),


and finally, as the piéce de résistance, Reggie Nadler (the assassin from THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH '56) is reimagined as Nosferatu for his role as the demonic Mr. Barlow. He doesn't get a lot of screen time, but, as you can see, he certainly makes up for it in makeup and intensity.

(It must also be noted that this depiction of Barlow is completely different than in the novel, but frankly, I don't care.)

Alright, I guess that's it. I don't think I forgot anyone–

HMMMMMM?

Oh, sweet God- James Mason!

Hmmph...

Don't look at me with those judgmental eyebrows- it's too much to bear!

I'm not gonna lie. James Mason is my favorite part about this movie. Nobody does "SMUG CONDESCENSION" like James Mason. He floats in and out of the film, bending the citizenry to his will, killing children, and selling antiques at exorbitant prices.

You believe wholeheartedly that he views Salem's Lot simply as a village of trifling insects to be exploited for his nefarious purposes. And it's James Mason. I mean, if you're not kind of rooting for him, then maybe you shouldn't be watching this movie anyway.

JAMES MASON WILL SHUT YOU DOWN

Nothing holds a candle to the scene where he manhandles the Neanderthal police chief while being questioned about a murder that he did in fact commit. The police have confiscated one of his suits because it resembles a piece of fabric that was left behind at the murder scene. Smug condescension carries the day as Mason demands that the police not only return his suit in a timely fashion, but that they have it professionally cleaned before they do so. Then the following exchange takes place:

JAMES MASON: Ciao, Constable.
POLICE CHIEF: Chow?
JAMES MASON: Ciao. It's a familiar Italian expression meaning goodbye.
POLICE CHIEF: I didn't know you were Italian.
JAMES MASON: I'm not. The word is.

Then he winks, not once– not twice– but three times, in a coup de grâce of Herculean snobbery.


Bravo, Mr. Mason. Your senseless, bloodthirsty war on small town America will be long remembered- you've given patronizing elitists everywhere something to strive for, and truly you've won SALEM'S LOT: THE MINI-SERIES a special place in my heart. Keep on winkin'!

About three and a half stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE OUTFIT (1973, John Flynn)

Stars: 5 of 5.

Tag-line: "Nobody plays rougher than The Outfit...except maybe Earl, Cody, and Bett!"

Running Time: 105 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew: Robert Duvall, Karen Black (EASY RIDER, NASHVILLE, THE GREAT GATSBY), Joe Don Baker (COOL HAND LUKE, CHARLEY VARRICK, LEONARD PART 6), Robert Ryan (BILLY BUDD, THE WILD BUNCH, HOUSE OF BAMBOO, THE PROFESSIONALS), Joanna Cassidy (BLADE RUNNER, STAY HUNGRY), Jane Greer (OUT OF THE PAST, Norma's mom on TWIN PEAKS), Richard Jaeckel (THE DIRTY DOZEN, STARMAN), Timothy Carey (PATHS OF GLORY, THE KILLING), Sheree North (TELEFON, CHARLEY VARRICK), Elisha Cook, Jr. (THE MALTESE FALCON, THE BIG SLEEP, ROSEMARY'S BABY, BLACULA). Music by Jerry Fielding (THE WILD BUNCH, STRAW DOGS). Based on the novel by Donald E. Westlake, aka Richard Stark (POINT BLANK, THE STEPFATHER, THE GRIFTERS).

Best one-liner: "Die someplace else."

One could say that the popularity of the 'crime film' represents our thinly-veiled desire to live out the seedy, vicarious thrills so readily provided by the genre. THE OUTFIT could go a long way in supporting that statement, but it could just as easily be used to dismantle it. It's got snappy noir dialogue, flashy con games, and feats of gun-blazing bravado; but it's tempered with quotidian details, cheerless characters, and unappealing locales. It takes place in those spaces behind spaces: hideously wallpapered hallways; back rooms with stained, pressboard ceilings; dingy men's rooms; sterile, colorless kitchens.

It's not an ugly movie, per sé, it just happens to take place in one dull, unappetizing location after another (with diversions on deserted, nondescript highways). I like this. It imbues the film with the squalid, low-rent atmosphere that the genre deserves. (And it originally was envisioned by Flynn as a period piece- elements of which remain in the finished film.) Flynn's direction almost becomes a character- he hammers out the scenes, getting straight to the root- the levelheaded truth- of each interaction. No frills, no dressing it up, just get it done, and do it right.

It reminds me of Don Siegel neo-noirs like THE KILLERS ('64) and CHARLEY VARRICK ('73) as much as it does the actual noirs like DETOUR ('46) and KISS ME DEADLY ('55). (Flynn very purposefully peppers his film with film noir icons, from Jane Greer to Elisha Cook, Jr. to Timothy Carey to the only Robert who could ever hold a candle to Mitchum: and that's Ryan.) And those quotidian details that I mentioned (like a realistic, genuinely-paced illegal gun sale or the time it takes to actually snatch up the money during a robbery) hearken back to the French crime flicks of Jacques Becker (TOUCHEZ PAS AU GRISBI- '54) or Jean-Pierre Melville (LE CERCLE ROUGE- '70).

Robert Duvall is Macklin. Macklin's just been released from prison. He learns from his gal Bett (Karen Black) that his brother's been rubbed out on account of their robbing of an Outfit bank.

The Outfit is a Mafia-style organization, which, as the tag-line says, plays pretty rough. Just to give you an idea of how rough they play, Robert goddamn Ryan runs the fuckin' thing:

Macklin's a hard guy to read. He wears grungy undershirts, and is pretty quick with a gun, or a bottle, or whatever's on hand.

His ideas of leisure activities involve cleaning his weaponry, loading his weaponry, and slapping around women. Along with his buddy Cody (a grinning, hardass Joe Don Baker), he embarks on a mission to bring down the Outfit. A series of events take place- robberies, killings, and interrogations. Macklin plays his cards close to the chest. Does he have a plan? Does he even care about revenge? Does he just want to fuck with the Outfit as much as he can before dying? What's he even need all that money for? Does it matter?

Duvall plays Macklin as a husk of a man who quite possibly never cared about anything; or, perhaps more accurately, has never appeared to care about anything. We receive glimpses of a human being beneath––the way he clutches his grandfather's watch, the fleeting bursts of emotion, the way he cuts you off if you're about to ask something personal. And he's got some great lines, too: "I don't talk to guys wearing aprons. Get St. Claire." or "You send a guy out to kill somebody, maybe his feelings get hurt." Duvall robs mobster after mobster after mobster, then disdainfully mutters about how easy it is, how these guys run a "shitheel operation." I love it.

Joe Don Baker's Cody here is almost as much fun as his villainous 'Molly' in CHARLEY VARRICK. "Suit yourself," says Sheree North after he spurns her advances. "I always do," he cooly retorts, the words curling forth from his lips with an oily tangibility to them, as if smarminess were something one could lay their hands on. He's got a great dynamic with Duvall here, and the hardened matter-of-factness which defines their interactions reminded me of the relationship between William Devane and Tommy Lee Jones in Flynn's ROLLING THUNDER.

You can play make believe, and run your diner or your bar or whatever, but these kinds of guys only bide their time, waiting for that ecstatic moment where they'll have a gun in their hand and an occasion to use it. Joe Don punches out an unsuspecting female phone dispatcher, too, and it's just about on par with the shocking scene of Clu Gulager tormenting the blind secretary in THE KILLERS.

Robert Ryan is Mailer. His missus is Rita (Joanna Cassidy), and their love seems defined by how many times Ryan can tell her to "Shut up."

Domestic bliss.

In fact, that's kiiind of Robert Ryan's catchphrase in this movie. And you never get tired of hearing him bark it, whether it's directed at his wife, our protagonists, or his henchmen. Ryan is never less than fantastic, and he exudes the proper weight, authority, and hot-tempered crabbiness that one would expect from a leader of the Outfit.

One of my favorite elements of this film is, again and again, how easily henchmen are convinced to A. Reveal intelligence info, B. Name names, or C. Give it up and go home. Over and over, the line "they're not paying me (or you) enough" is used by rationalizing, pushover goons and our persuasive protagonists alike. (Or "Don't be brave, buster: you just work here.") And you know what, it's true! Why do henchmen in movies generally find themselves so willing to fight to the death for mob bosses who are probably paying them like $100 a day to put their necks on the line? Shit on that. And often they get themselves killed even after their boss is dead. No, they're not paying you enough. It gives the film a humorous ongoing motif and lends it the ring of truth: it's the little matter-of-fact moments like this which really make it work (and have gone on to inspire filmmakers like Tarantino and Soderbergh: I'm especially thinking of the henchmen's squabble over what a 'sliding scale pay system is' in THE LIMEY).

In all, THE OUTFIT's one of the prime examples of that great 70's wave of American neo-noir, from Walter Hill's THE DRIVER to Arthur Penn's NIGHT MOVES to Roman Polanski's CHINATOWN to Robert Altman's THE LONG GOODBYE. No longer is crime hidden in expressionistic shadow and decked out in foreboding trench coats and ritzy fedoras; it's seeing the harsh light of day in a cheap, soiled suit: exposed to the world, warts and all. I also heartily recommend Flynn's ROLLING THUNDER (in a similar vein, but Schrader-ized) and Siegel's CHARLEY VARRICK (which uncannily shares with THE OUTFIT the plot element of robbing a mob-owned bank, a badass hero with nebulous motives, several key cast members, and they both came out in October of 1973!). For THE OUTFIT: five stars.

And a special thanks to J.D. at Radiator Heaven whose copy of THE OUTFIT made this review possible!

And why not––I'll add it to the Summer Movie series––it's best seen in a four-dollar room with a malfunctioning ceiling fan. Pass the Schlitz.

Junta Juleil's Summer '10 Movie Series
1. HELL IN THE PACIFIC (1968, John Boorman)
2. KUFFS (1992, Bruce A. Evans)
3. THE OUTFIT (1973, John Flynn)