Only now does it occur to me... NEXT OF KIN (1989)

Only now does it occur to me... that NEXT OF KIN ('89)––which is not to be confused with Atom Egoyan's debut feature, NEXT OF KIN ('84), an excellent arthouse tract about found family––should just be a run-of-the-mill, direct-to-video hillbilly-sploitation flick starring, at best, a Chuck Norris or a Michael Dudikoff. However, in a spot of brilliant work by a trio of casting directors with an eye for ensemble [Shelley Andreas (MIDNIGHT RUN, CHILD'S PLAY, FERRIS BUELLER'S DAY OFF), Jane Alderman (CANDYMAN, THE COLOR OF MONEY), and Mindy Marin (CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER, MYSTERY MEN, MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE–FALLOUT)], they've assembled a well-rounded troupe who are somehow capable of elevating a film which was surely pitched as a "redneck revenge" thriller.

For starters, the lead is Patrick Swayze, who lends genuine sincerity and sensitivity to a part that's about as well-written as the Chuck Norris role in INVASION USA. As a tuff Chicago cop from a Kentucky holler who dresses like a Wild West lawman and has a mullet which sometimes masquerades as a ponytail, you could say that Swayze must animate a character with "not enough" and "perhaps too much" to work with.

He displays both the pathos of GHOST and the hot-blooded fervency of RED DAWN, as well as a large helping of "dignity-in-the-face-of-kitsch" which he demonstrated so well in ROAD HOUSE (which had come out earlier that year).

This is one of those films which acts as if "hillbillies" are the most persecuted minority in the United States, a quality which certainly elevates its paracinematic value, at the very least.

The "hillbilly wacko" in question is the excellent Ted Levine––"Buffalo Bill" in THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS––who decides to turn his single scene into a craft workshop/an audition for the next Sam Shepard play.

Next, we have Helen Hunt playing one of only four named female characters, and the only one to deliver more than three lines. She plays Swayze's refined, concert violinist girlfriend, a sitcom-style development which is never properly mined for its inherent highbrow vs. lowbrow comedy value.

Her character only really exists to be threatened by mobsters and therefore unleash Swayze's ire, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Nonetheless, she does an excellent job with the material, considering, and gets to work alongside her eventual TWISTER costar...

Bill Paxton!

Paxton plays Swayze's little brother, another Kentucky transplant living in the big city. He's not in the movie for very long, since his murder (at the hands of mobsters) is the inciting incident of the movie. He does that likably nutty "Paxton thing" and the bulk of his performance is contained in a scene wherein he discusses rap music with a black co-worker. 

Truly a moment for the annals of film history. The mobsters in question are also well cast––

On the left is baby Ben Stiller as the Don's nerdy son who is dragged along for the murderous ride. In the center is Andreas Katsulas (THE FUGITIVE, EXECUTIVE DECISION) who plays the Don. On the right is Adam Baldwin (FIREFLY, "Animal Mother" in FULL METAL JACKET), who plays a gleefully murderous psychopath and the principal villain of the picture. Sorta strange to see Stiller in the 1980s, and in a serious role,

but he gives it the proper "rich kid twerpitude" as well as some degree of childish vulnerability.

Paxton's murder brings the third brother, "Briar," to town, the eldest, who never forsook his Kentucky identity and is only coming to Chicago for revenge purposes. It's Liam Neeson!

He brings the proper gravity and badassery, but boy, he can't seem to lose that Irish accent.

Being as this predates even DARKMAN, this feels like the ur-Badass role which has defined the latter-half of Neeson's career. There's a great scene where, in order to intimidate some mobsters, he shoots up a bunch of pinball machines.

 

Check out Gorgar, over there 

 

BONNIE AND CLYDE's Michael J. Pollard shows up in a weirdly delicate performance as a "flophouse owner sympathetic to Neeson's cause."

This is the sort of thing you really don't expect in a movie like this. He pounds a lot of Old Styles, too, which reminds us again that this film is set in Chicago, like every other '80s movie.

Anyway, the whole thing ends with a Swayze vs. Mobsters showdown in a graveyard where Swayze wields a bow and arrow like he's John Rambo.

In all, this is way more watchable than it has any right to be, and due to the nature of its success, I can't think of anyone to thank beyond the casting directors. So... thanks!

Only now does it occur to me... 9 1/2 WEEKS (1986)

Only now does it occur to me... as a filmgoer who had somehow seen every single one of Adrian Lyne's features (from FLASHDANCE to UNFAITHFUL, from FATAL ATTRACTION to FOXES, from JACOB'S LADDER to INDECENT PROPOSAL), that in not having seen 9 1/2 WEEKS until now, I completely missed the beautiful (?) homage to 9 1/2 WEEKS in one of my favorite scenes in TROLL 2 (1990).

To contextualize: the following sublime scene occurs near the end of Claudio Fragasso's TROLL 2,

 (This video has been age-restricted for some unknown reason––if you click on it, skip to 1:44)

wherein witch/goblin queen Creedence Leonore Gielgud (Deborah Reed)  approaches an RV containing errant teen Brent (David McConnell). She appears on his TV, "sexy-dance-walk-stumbling" to a rootin'-tootin' MIDI track while clutching an ear of corn. This lures him outside (where in one of the best diegetic sound reveals in film history, the mix reveals the music as actively "playing" outside the RV), prompting him to let her in. She suggests they "heat... it... up" and they proceed to simultaneously gnaw at the ear of corn, which––when confronted with so much raw sexual energy––begins exploding into popcorn, which is heaved in handfuls upon the pair by bored production assistants.

Obviously, you can understand why this scene rules, with or without context. But it turns out––according to me, anyway––that Claudio Fragasso was paying a specific homage to 9 1/2 WEEKS. In one particular scene, Kim Basinger––who is embroiled in a steamy, weird, gross love affair with a Wall Street wackjob––is performing a striptease for said wackjob (naturally, Mickey Rourke). 

She does some wacky dancing through some blinds, set to Joe Cocker's cover of Randy Newman's "You Can Leave Your Hat On"

 

 

 

which has inexplicably become some kind of striptease anthem despite possessing all the raw sex appeal of an old mattress stained with hotdog water, or a guy attending night school in a mesh shirt. This song was fired from its job as a roadie for George Thorogood. This song eats mothballs, recreationally. It washes its hair with dish soap. It probably owns a black market human skeleton. This song's girlfriend broke up with it because it wouldn't stop singing "Splish Splash I Was Takin' a Bath" every time it showered. This song eats Chef Boyardee cold, straight out of the can.

Anyway, so Kim continues dancing as Mickey Rourke keeps doing his creepy "aw, shucks" bashful serial killer smile...

 

 

uh, got hungry, did you, Mickey? What's that he's shoving into his mouth?

 

 

Popcorn.

And then it clicks––that TROLL 2 MIDI track is the fuckin karaoke track of "You Can Leave Your Hat On!" (The key is slightly different but probably not enough to avoid litigation if somebody actually cared.) And there's popcorn in this scene. Claudio Fragasso probably thought he needed a sexy scene in his goblin movie, and because he's a noted Italotrash plagiarist, he likely watched noted "sexy movie" 9 1/2 WEEKS and thought he'd take all the proper ingredients one needs for a sexy scene and simply reassemble them: gyrating body, Joe Cocker track, popcorn––let's call it a day!

For all of these years, I had been enjoying TROLL 2's inexplicable fusion of rootin'-tootin' MIDI music, corn, and sexy lurching movements without realizing that it was an homage to Adrian Lyne. Beautifully done all around, folks.

Only now does it occur to me... THE INDIAN RUNNER (1991)

Only now does it occur to me... that the probability of the THE INDIAN RUNNER existing is so unlikely that I'm not, in fact, sure that it does exist.

Picture, if you will, a movie directed by Hollywood activist Sean Penn, based on a song ("Highway Patrolman") by blue-collar hero Bruce Springsteen, and produced by infamous former White House Chief Strategist and crypto-fascist Steve Bannon. A motley crew, indeed! (Though I kinda doubt Springsteen ever sat down in a room with the other two, perhaps exhausted enough by Penn's middle-of-the-night phone calls.)

So, THE INDIAN RUNNER stars David Morse as a highway patrolman (okay, that is incredibly likely, I'll give you that)

and young Viggo Mortensen as his wild, lawbreaking brother.

I would posit, as many have, that they represent the dueling aspects of Sean Penn's interior struggle/personal contradictions, with David Morse as the Sean Penn who does volunteer work and saves people from hurricanes, and Viggo as the Sean Penn who (allegedly!) tortured Madonna and dangled paparazzi over balconies.

But now for something truly unlikely: Charles Bronson plays their father, in his only theatrical role post-1984 that didn't involve Cannon Films' Menahem Golan.

And wait––what's this?––it's almost like there's something missing... something that belongs between his nose and upper lip...

Indeed, Bronson is missing his signature mustache. Back when Don Siegel tried to get him to shave it for 1977's TELEFON, Bronson's sole reply on the subject was "No mustache, no Bronson." Apparently it was somehow a different matter when Sean Penn called (!?). Perhaps old age had softened his stance, though he certainly grew it back quickly enough for YES, VIRGINIA THERE IS A SANTA CLAUS and THE SEA WOLF. It's also worth noting that this is a role of considerable pathos: a sweet old man from Nebraska who is not and has never been a pocket bazooka-wielding vigilante. (This is also one of the rare post-DEATH WISH roles in which he does not handle a firearm onscreen.)

Furthermore, legendary Oscar-winning character actress Sandy Dennis (WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?, THE THREE SISTERS, GOD TOLD ME TO, 976-EVIL) plays Bronson's wife. Frankly, it's bizarre to see the man who so beautifully uttered "Chicken's good... I like chicken" playing scene partner to one of the masters of the American stage.


Bronson: not a master of the American stage, but only because they never made KINJITE: FORBIDDEN SUBJECTS––THE MUSICAL!

Also, I must note that this image of Bronson praying before a pile of Wonder Bread and a gravy boat while sandwiched between a cornfed David Morse and a Gerber Baby might just be the whitest tableau ever committed to film:

I'm beginning to comprehend Steve Bannon's interest in the project. Also of note: Viggo's character has Nazi tattoos and hangs a confederate flag in his bedroom...

Next, we have Patricia Arquette as Viggo's pregnant girlfriend, and apparently she is meant to be the doppelgänger of Mia Farrow in ROSEMARY'S BABY.


"Nothing but a mild sedative to calm you down, Rosemary..."


Finally, we have Dennis Hopper as a terrifyingly intense bartender

Okay, so this is extremely likely, too

who leans in real close and whispers things like, "Did you ever wanna kill someone... just out of rage?"

Wow. I mean, look at that. I can't help but feel this must be the (slightly?) fictionalized version of an actual conversation that went down between Sean Penn and Steve Bannon. 

[In any event, you're probably wondering: is it any good? It is––but with a few caveats. It's very much an early '90s attempt to capture the spirit of '70s indie dramas by guys like Bob Rafelson, John Cassavetes, Peter Bogdanovich, and Hal Ashby. It's amped up by post-BLUE VELVET, expressionistic/Lynchian touches, some of which are visually interesting, and some of which are a little too pretentious for their own good. The first half of the movie outweighs the second (for reasons I can't get into without spoiling it), and it's really at its best when Bronson, Dennis, or Hopper are on screen, though Morse and Viggo are certainly in top form as well.]

Only now does it occur to me... THE CROSSING GUARD (1995)

Only now does it occur to me... that in Junta Juleil's proud tradition of presenting awkward dance sequences involving our favorite actors, from Ed Harris in CREEPSHOW to James Remar in RENT-A-COP to Jean-Claude Van Damme in KICKBOXER to Linda Hamilton in CHILDREN OF THE CORN to Michael Moriarty in TROLL to Lorenzo Lamas in BODY ROCK... we can now throw the hat of a new contender to the ring. May I proudly present Robin Wright in Sean Penn's THE CROSSING GUARD (in a scene that exudes 1995 from every pore):

Only now does it occur to me... CRUISING

Only now does it occur to me... the four most unexpected bit parts in William Friedkin's heavy leather psychological thriller, CRUISING, are:

#1.  Joe Spinell, brilliant NYC character actor (THE GODFATHER, MANIAC, TAXI DRIVER, THE SEVEN-UPS, NIGHTHAWKS, VIGILANTE) appearing as a closeted, homophobic cop.  He's only present for a handful of scenes, but he imbues his character with equal measures of sleaze, torment, and a surprising pathos.

Joe and his sleazy pathos (in the passenger seat).


#2.  Ed O'Neill (known chiefly for his sitcom work on MARRIED...WITH CHILDREN and MODERN FAMILY, though occasionally as a David Mamet stock player) as a plain-talkin' detective.

He's pictured here to the right of real-life cop-turned-actor Randy Jurgensen, who's looking sorta like a poor man's Warren Oates.

He doesn't have too much to do here, but he brings a straightforward, simple-minded focus to his character, running down dead-end leads for his boss, an utterly beleaguered NYPD Captain (GOODFELLAS' Paul Sorvino).


#3.  Hey, look, it's Powers Boothe (EXTREME PREJUDICE, DEADWOOD, SOUTHERN COMFORT, RED DAWN, SIN CITY)!  Now here's where it starts to get really special.

As the "Hankie Salesman," he briefly explains the code system of the of colored pick-up bandanas to undercover cop Al Pacino.  While describing which hankies in which pockets denote blowjobs, hustling, golden showers, et al., he plays the character as a mix of affectionately annoyed and mildly disinterested.  Pacino says he'll go home and "think about it."  "I'm sure you'll make the right choice," says Powers, still bored.

 #4.  James Remar (THE WARRIORS, DEXTER, 48 HRS., BAND OF THE HAND, THE PHANTOM) as the dancin' roommate.

One of the main supporting characters, Ted (Don Scardino, who plays him as a lovable Bohemian like from TALES OF THE CITY), has a boyfriend who's a mildly (?) abusive dancer who's always on tour.  He's spoken of occasionally throughout the film.  We finally get a glimpse of the dancer near the end, and it's none other than James Remar, wearing short-shorts and waving a butcher knife around.  This was especially amusing to me because, though we never see his character dance in CRUISING, I believe this may have inspired his role in 1987's RENT-A-COP, where he plays a murderous and sweaty dancin' machine.

In closing, CRUISING is a well-made psychological thriller (Friedkin has always been a consummate craftsman who rarely draws attention to his technique) with some brilliant performances and featuring a very specific time and place. It fits nicely in his "cops on the edge" oeuvre, alongside TO LIVE AND DIE IN L.A. and THE FRENCH CONNECTION.

Only now does it occur to me... CANNERY ROW

Only now does it occur to me...  that if you've been wondering all this time what a Nick Nolte Indiana Jones would have looked like (Nolte notably passed on the roles of Han Solo in STAR WARS and Jones in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK), then you need look no further than this freeze frame from the John Steinbeck adaptation, CANNERY ROW:

As for the film itself, despite nice turns from Nolte, Debra Winger, and M. Emmett Walsh, it fails to capture the ever-amusing humanism of the novel (and its sequel SWEET THURSDAY) ...and is fairly unwatchable.

Film Review: CUTTER'S WAY (1981, Ivan Passer)

Stars: 5 of 5. Running Time: 105 minutes. Notable Cast or Crew: John Heard, Jeff Bridges, Lisa Eichhorn, Nina van Pallandt, Stephen Elliott, Patricia Donahue, co-producer Larry J. Franco (Kurt Russell's brother-in-law and John Carpenter's co-producer through the 1980's), cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth (BLADE RUNNER, ROLLING THUNDER). Tag-lines: "Cutter does everything his way. Fighting. Loving. Working. Tracking down a killer. " Now there's a studio-imposed tag-line if there ever was one. Best one-liner(s): "I don't drink. You know, the routine grind drives me to drink. Tragedy, I take straight." Absolutely brilliant film from Czech expatriate and Milos Forman-collaborator Ivan Passer. At once a powerfully understated neo-noir, a nuanced character study, and a sharply unforgiving look at post-Vietnam America, CUTTER'S WAY is one of those masterpieces that has been swept under the collective cultural rug for whatever reason. You may rest assured, however, that the Coen Brothers have watched this movie many a time: the influence of its labyrinthine, noirish plot structure; its dark streak of humor; and its colorful, unpredictable characters can clearly be seen in everything they've done from BLOOD SIMPLE to BURN AFTER READING. The acting is superb: in a role that Richard Dreyfuss campaigned for, John Heard is nearly unrecognizable as the sometimes ridiculous, sometimes violence-prone, and sometimes sweet Alex Cutter. Heard transcends his 'character-y' props and trappings (physical disability, gravely voice, eyepatch, and cane) to deliver a completely believable, three-dimensional performance, which is a true feat and a treat to watch. As Richard Bone, Jeff Bridges balances Cutter's mania without sacrificing character flavor, remarkably similar to how his 'Dude' stabilizes the unhinged madness of John Goodman's 'Walter Sobchak' in THE BIG LEBOWSKI. Rounding out the cast is the nearly unknown Lisa Eichhorn as Cutter's long-suffering wife, Stephen Elliott as the possible Bogeyman or perhaps just upstanding citizen, and the always underrated Billy Drago in a bit part as a garbageman. Using his deft direction, lots of natural lighting, and the instincts he honed as a Czech New Wave filmmaker and screenwriter, Passer makes CUTTER'S WAY a subtle, latter-day Noir masterpiece. Five stars. (And as a side note, the similarities with LEBOWSKI are insane: a gun-toting, unreasonable, ridiculous war vet friend convinces slacker Jeff Bridges character to engage in a blackmail plot involving a possibly nefarious, rich, respected public figure (among other noirish subplots) upon Bridges' character's unwitting, tangential involvement in a young woman's peril- umm, maybe the Coens should give a little credit where it's due, instead of saying THE BIG LEBOWSKI draws the bulk of it's inspiration from THE BIG SLEEP. And I'll tell you why they haven't: because it sounds a lot better to say you're drawing upon generic, classic, respected archetypes than drawing entirely upon a little-known, underappreciated 1981 film. It's like when a student filmmaker tries to replicate some of the editing in REQUIEM FOR A DREAM but insists their inspiration is BATTLESHIP POTEMPKIN. All of this being said, however, my only problem with the Coens here is failure to cite sources; THE BIG LEBOWSKI is one of the best films of the 90's, just as CUTTER'S WAY is one of the best of the 80's.) -Sean Gill