Only now does it occur to me... that not only does SEA OF LOVE offer the trappings of a kinda-mediocre-but-fun sex thriller in the FATAL ATTRACTION/BASIC INSTINCT/SLIVER/BODY OF EVIDENCE vein, not only does it feature Al Pacino and John Goodman as hot-doggin' detectives,
who prefer to work outside the system––much to chagrin of their straight-laced boss, John Spencer (of course),
not only does it feature an extremely young and quippy Samuel L. Jackson,
Credited in the role of––no joke, unfortunately––"Black Guy"
Pacino: "What is she gonna do, confess? Shoot me? We're in a restaurant!!"
not only do Pacino and Ellen Barkin offer the most hilarious, post-9 1/2 WEEKS, food-related seduction scene this side of TROLL 2:
He was lookin' for Chips Ahoy
She was lookin' for fresh produce, but then she found...
No, not love––she found...
Yellow bell peppers
Oh yes she did
No, we shouldn't, look at all this fresh romaine
Just waiting to go on a salad, perhaps a Caesar
not only does SEA OF LOVE offer all of these sublime and occasionally laughable joys, but it also, and perhaps most importantly, it depicts the best shower curtain of all time––
this beautifully whimsical portrait of rumba musicians who happen to be alligators. Said shower curtain belongs to hardboiled cop Pacino,
whose street cred has never been more crystal clear.
Notable Cast or Crew: Dennis Quaid (ENEMY MINE, FAR FROM HEAVEN), Ellen Barkin (DOWN BY LAW, THE ADVENTURES OF BUCKAROO BANZAI), John Goodman (BARTON FINK, THE BIG LEBOWSKI), Ned Beatty (SUPERMAN, DELIVERANCE), Grace Zabriskie (TWIN PEAKS, WILD AT HEART), Marc Lawrence (MARATHON MAN, THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN), Soloman Burke (Rock n' Roll Hall of Famer and "The Bishop of Soul"). Written by Daniel Petrie, Jr. (BEVERLY HILLS COP, TURNER & HOOCH).
Tag-line: "Police ACTION at its best!" (If ya know what I mean.)
Best one-liner: "If I can't have you, can I have my gator?"
Sweet crawdad-lickin', bayou-sweatin', gator-chompin' lordy o mine! It's time to kick off this three part series of Southern-Fried Sleaze-O-Rama!
What? You may be thinking. THE BIG EASY is a fairly respected, medium-to-high-budgeted 80s Neo-Noir classic, or at least a near-classic. It's got a respectable acting pedigree, Ebert loved the hell out of it, and for as much as we use the AFI for anything other than the occasional snide remark, they shortlisted this flick for their "Greatest American Mysteries" list and for their "Greatest American Love Stories" list. So what are you thinking, placing this crawdad-lickin' gem in your series dedicated to unintentional camp and hilarious perversity?
Well, as much as I genuinely enjoy THE BIG EASY, I must spring something on you. A pop quiz, to be exact. Don't worry, though– there's only one question. I want you to think hard, and tell me what the answer is, because honestly, I don't even know. The question is this:
Q: What is the most unexpectedly bizarre moment of Mardi Grassin', cajun-spicin' wackadoodle to appear in THE BIG EASY?
Is it, A: Ned Beatty's spectacular get-up during a front-porchin' Crescent City shindig,
which includes a rather chic felt crawdad hat, a pair of suspenders, and a Tabasco™ sauce tee-shirt, which proudly (and accurately) labels Beatty as "HOT STUFF."
Is it, B: Grace Zabriskie's bug-eyed, Creole-accented turn as Dennis Quaid's mother,
a matriarch so fierce that she can demolish old ladies with a soul-blasting Medusa glare:
It's a performance which probably inspired David Lynch, who would later cast her in WILD AT HEART as an accented hitwoman carrying out a job in New Orleans.
Is it, C: John Goodman, looking nowhere near "skinny," but certainly younger and svelter than I've seen him this side of C.H.U.D.
Hint: it's not C. C is pretty normal.
Is it, D: The comically disturbing semi-implied, semi-explicit salad-tossing scene between Dennis Quaid and Ellen Barkin
which nearly made me spray my beer through my nose. (And don't you worry, this series with make an extremely tasteful recurring motif of this particular proclivity.) I feel as if this demands a new euphemism. "The Bayou Tosser?" "Mason Licksin'?" "Jambalaya Jammin'?"
Is it, E: Jambalaya Jammin'. Nevermind, nevermind, THIS is "Jambalaya Jammin'":
Or, as longtime goosing aficionado Burt Reynolds might call it, "The Stroker Ace."
Or is it, F: Dennis Quaid going undercover and on the lam as notable "Hall and Oates" member, John Oates.
John Oates heartily approves.
And you really must watch the following clip, which truly functions best when viewed entirely out of context:
So there you have it– I have posed the question. I pray that you, my valued readers, can provide me with the answer. So here's hopin' you beat the heat, and stay tuned for more crawdad-lickin', Southern-fried Sleaze-o-rama!
Stars: 2.7 of 5.
Running Time: 98 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Jeff Bridges (STARMAN, THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT, CUTTER'S WAY), Ellen Barkin (THE ADVENTURES OF BUCKAROO BANZAI, DOWN BY LAW), John Hurt (I, CLAUDIUS; THE HIT), Diane Lane (THE COTTON CLUB, RUMBLE FISH), Keith Carradine (NASHVILLE, SOUTHERN COMFORT), David Arquette (THE OUTSIDERS TV series, SCREAM), Christina Applegate (DON'T TELL MOM THE BABYSITTER'S DEAD, MARS ATTACKS!), James Remar (48 HRS., QUIET COOL), Bruce Dern (THE GREAT GATSBY, SILENT RUNNING). Based on the book DEADWOOD by Peter Dexter and the play by Thomas Babe.
Tag-line: "Take a walk on the wild side."
Best one-liner: "You ought to know better than to touch another man's hat."
Where to begin, WILD BILL? Let's start with the good. I'm a Walter Hill fan. I'm a fan of most of the talented, eclectic cast whose members include the commanding and mustachioed Jeff Bridges, the eloquent John Hurt, the soothingly intense Keith Carradine, the mysterious and sultry Diane Lane, and the lovably psychotic James Remar. There's fast and furious, well-choreographed gunfights which recall the quick-drawin', squinty-eyed triumphs of Sergio Leone.
There's a scene where Wild Bill shoots a shot glass off the back of a hapless pooch while he aims backwards, through a mirror.
There's Keith Carradine (who later played perhaps filmdom's finest Wild Bill on HBO's DEADWOOD) as Buffalo Bill in a zany scene showcasing Wild Bill's legendarily awful acting in the money-grubbing play 'SCOUTS OF THE PLAINS.'
There's a genius scene depicting a geriactric-style gunfight between a wheelchair-using Bruce Dern...
...and a smart-assed Wild Bill, who's had himself tied to a chair to make it a fair fight.
In fact, Dern practically steals the movie playing this irascible, grizzled madman-
and it's a role that he's pretty much (BIG LOVE, MONSTER, THE ASTRONAUT FARMER) been playing ever since. (And to be fair, he was generally playing it before, too.)
We got John Hurt narrating and raising eyebrows and classin' up the joint
and even getting punched out by James Remar.
We got Remar bustin' in and and bellowing the rhetorical question, "A FIVE DOLLAR WHORE'S GONNA TELL ME ABOUT STREET TRASH?!" to a hooker played by...uh, Christina Applegate.
Wait, that must be a typo. Surely I meant to type 'Susan Tyrrell' or 'Candy Clark' or 'Grace Zabriskie'...but no such luck. It's not all peaches and cream, ladies and gentlemen. Christina Applegate is indeed in this movie, and though it pains me to say it, she's far from being the most absolutely, hair-raisingly loco elementincluded in the film.
Now would probably be a good time to mention that WILD BILL is sort of structured like THE DOORS. We flash-forward and flash-back and wash out to events throughout Wild Bill's life, as if trapped in a interminable time warp, an ouroboros of violence and blood and dirt and whiskey. That's fine. It establishes the sense of violence that pervades Wild Bill's very being. But things start to get a little wonky as soon as we got drug trips and opium hallucinations and use of high-contrast black-and-white video art-lookin' sequences full of bizarre, Oliver Stone-style Native American mysticism
which, for all intents and purposes, are unwatchable until Diane Lane shows up, at which point they become only barely watchable.
All of this would be excusable if they were going the all-out arthouse route, but then we have pandering- I assume to the studio, but who knows– altering the historical record in a manner which can only be described as "thoroughly cockamamie." 'Colorado' Charlie Utter inexplicably becomes Charlie Prince (the John Hurt character). Jack McCall (Bill's assassin) is no longer a young, poker-luvin' douche who impulsively shot Bill in the back over a card game and a subsequent gesture of (quite possibly mocking) kindness. He's a young tuff (...played by David Arquette) avenging the honor of his mother, Susannah (Diane Lane), who has Bill at gunpoint about 3,000 times during the course of the movie but only acts on it during the finale.
Now, the historical McCall, most likely trying to save his own ass, claimed that Wild Bill had killed his brother and he was seeking revenge, but to tie it in with the Susannah Moore/Davis Tutt incident is not only kinda historically irresponsible, but it also works to the detriment of the story Hill is telling, unless he wanted the subject of his film to be a heavily fictionalized version of Jack McCall. Anyway, it doesn't really matter- the combining, editing, and altering of historical figures in cinema occurs with such frequency that it hardly bears ment–
CALAMITY JANE HOT TUB
I like Ellen Barkin. Nobody can say that I don't like Ellen Barkin. I guess what I mean to say is that she doesn't quite look the part, or even come close to matching the original Calamity Jane's intensity or gender expression. Elements that I'm sure Barkin could have captured, and that Hill would later (in DEADWOOD) explore more faithfully. It does smack of "studio note," certainly.
Then again, I suppose that Jane's depiction is something that Hollywood has always struggled with––see also: Doris Day's CALAMITY JANE (1953).
But, let's end things on a positive note, shall we? Here's a clip I uploaded of James Remar, possibly worn down from multiple takes, giving Wild Bill's hat a hearty, dramatic thwack.
Stars: 3 of 5. Running Time: 94 minutes. Notable Cast or Crew: Mickey Rourke, Ellen Barkin, Lance Henriksen, Morgan Freeman, Forest Whitaker, Elizabeth McGovern, Carpenter-fave Peter Jason, Scott Wilson (IN COLD BLOOD, THE GREAT GATSBY). Music by Ry Cooder. Based on a novel by John Godey. Tag-line: "Revenge has a new face." Best one-liner: "GEEK!"
Ah, Mickey Rourke. You gotta love a guy who frequently compared his party-heavy personal life in the 80's to HALLOWEEN III: SEASON OF THE WITCH. Not 'HALLOWEEN,' not the 'HALLOWEEN series.' HALLOWEEN III. (That's the one where Irishmen, who have stolen part of Stonehenge, orchestrate a sinister plan to kill trick-or-treaters via evil, transformative masks.) I like to think a little of that comes through, especially here in JOHNNY HANDSOME, one in a slew of masterful Rourke performances from the 80's. Rourke dives headfirst into a role that has him in turns channeling the disfigured John Hurt role in THE ELEPHANT MAN, the 'hood with a new face' Humphrey Bogart role in DARK PASSAGE, and the 'psychologically reformed' criminal Malcolm McDowell role in A CLOCKWORK ORANGE. Directed by action maestro Walter Hill (fresh off RED HEAT and EXTREME PREJUDICE); and co-starring sleazy cop Morgan Freeman, fresh-faced surgeon Forest Whitaker, Ellen Barkin (channeling a homicidal, Louisianian Cyndi Lauper), and stone cold psycho Lance Henriksen (wearing sleeveless cowboy shirts and a giant earring), I feel like this should have been a masterpiece. But it's not. It's enjoyable enough, but it's difficult to enumerate exactly why Hill can't pull it off. It LOOKS great. DP Matthew F. Leonetti (POLTERGEIST, WEIRD SCIENCE) frames many shots wonderfully with neon, foreground elements, and shadows; recalling imagery of bandages being unpeeled from one's eyes. Ry Cooder (PARIS TEXAS, SOUTHERN COMFORT) delivers a solid, if not entirely appropriate, score. The story's sound, too, based on a novel by John Godey (THE TAKING OF PELHAM 1, 2, 3). But something fails in the pacing, and the story fails to truly congeal: by the end, you don't really care about the characters, and it's certainly not the fault of the actors. It's a solid enough little movie, but you can't help but feel that it had the potential to be a classic. Three stars.