Only now does it occur to me... THE PRESIDIO (1988)

Only now does it occur to me...  that THE PRESIDIO is kind of a watered-down San Francisco buddy-cop/corrupt military investigation flick that is chiefly concerned with Meg Ryan/Mark Harmon fireside romance:

the hilarious daddy/daughter relationship between Meg Ryan and her red-blooded, football-and-Coors-loving American Army Colonel father, Sean Connery (!), who just happens to have a Scottish accent:
 
Daddy, you can't tell me not to date Mark Harmon

Yesh, I can...I've sheen SCHUMMER SCHOOL

and somehow portraying Mark Harmon as a Jean-Pierre Melville-style blasé badass.

Lookin' schnazzy in that High School letter jacket, bub

None of this is working in the least. The film's high-water mark is surely an all-too-brief sequence where a local meathead

decides to pick on Sean Connery at a seafood pub, which begins a (raw)bar-room brawl, ending with said meathead getting a faceful o' oysters!




Unused Connery one-liners: "I've got othah schellfish to fry!","Thish wohrld ish definitely not your oyschter, boy!"

After highlighting THE PRESIDIO's only praiseworthy moment, I must also point out its greatest crime: the complete and utter misuse of the brilliant character actress Jeanette "Vasquez from ALIENS" Goldstein,

who––though she is playing an MP and not a Space Marine––

certainly could have been given the opportunity for either character development or badassery, but in fact is given neither, 

shot dead a mere six minutes into the movie. I expected better from you, THE PRESIDIO. At least there's always THE ROCK when I need to scratch that "Sean Connery-in-San Francisco" itch.

Only now does it occur to me... THINGS TO DO IN DENVER WHEN YOU'RE DEAD

Only now does it occur to me... that even in a movie where he's in a wheelchair,

Note the wig.

Christopher Walken manages to shoehorn in... a dance sequence!


Granted, it's via a short-lived flashback, but boy oh boy does the man love to dance.

In all, THINGS TO DO IN DENVER WHEN YOU'RE DEAD is sort of a mediocre "Guys Doing a Job" crime movie, injected with 90s indie quirkiness and a slightly out-of-place existential tone.  Clearly, the Weinsteins were trying to capture some Tarantino-ish lightning in a bottle once again, but it doesn't quite take.   However, the Guys Doing the Job are a terrific ensemble, as Andy Garcia assembles a team that includes trailer trash William Forsythe, sporting rainbow-colored tattoos and looking like his character from STONE COLD:

Christopher Lloyd as a crabby porno theater projectionist who's always complaining about how he just "lost a toe!":

Treat Williams as a psychotic ex-boxer and current funeral home employee who trains using corpses as punching bags:


and Bill Nunn, shot from low angles like his character Radio Raheem from DO THE RIGHT THING:

Bill Nunn in Denver...

...and Bed-Stuy.

Plus, we got Fairuza Balk as a streetwalker

doing that same sassy/punk/smartass thing she does in almost every 90s movie, but that's why we love her.

And closing it out over here is Steve Buscemi as "Mister Shhh," the master hitman––

 

who feels more like a character from a Rodriguez film instead of this one, but I s'pose that's fine, too. 

In all, a 90s curiosity that's far from essential viewing––but it does function as a tremendous repository of bizarre and brilliant acting choices.

Only now does it occur to me... 12 ANGRY MEN!

Only now does it occur to me... exactly how goddamned unsanitary nondisposable bathroom towels used to be! Seriously, though. I love 12 ANGRY MEN, but only upon the latest viewing did I comprehend the full ramifications of the following:

Jack Warden combs his greasy head, then proceeds to wipe the comb on the communal towel:



Henry Fonda dives in right after him like Pete Rose, smothering his face in the exact greasy spot,


then nonchalantly drying his hands as if it's the most natural thing in the world.


And maybe it is. Maybe the mollycoddlin' 21st Century has made a pantywaist germaphobe out of me, and for that I am truly ashamed.

But really, though. Communal bathroom towel? Communal sweat, grease, fluid, urine, excrement, what-have-you? I tell you, those men had reason to be angry.

All joking aside– if you haven't already, see this movie, go do it now. It may very well possess some of the finest blocking ever arranged in a constricted space and some of the more volatile (and sweaty) performances in filmdom. Pass the paper towels!

Film Review: USED CARS (1980, Robert Zemeckis)

Stars: 3.2 of 5.
Running Time: 113 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Kurt Russell, Jack Warden (12 ANGRY MEN, ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN), Gerrit Graham (TERRORVISION, RATBOY), Michael McKean (THIS IS SPINAL TAP, CLUE), David L. Lander (TWIN PEAKS SEASON 2), Dub Taylor (THE WILD BUNCH, MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON), Deborah Harmon (JUST THE TEN OF US), Woodrow Parfrey (CHARLEY VARRICK, DIRTY HARRY), Frank McRae (48 HRS., ROCKY II), Rita Taggart (HOUSE III: THE HORROR SHOW, MULHOLLAND DR.). Executive produced by John Milius and Steven Spielberg.
Tag-line: "Estimated Laugh Count: 287 City, 410 Highway. Use these numbers only for comparison. Your actual laughs may vary depending on how you feel about used car salesmen, nude women, spectacular car stunts, and the President of the United States."
Home Video Re-release Tag-line: "From the Director of FORREST GUMP."
Best one-liner: "Well, that's more like a down payment. After I'm elected its 50-50 on all the graft I take."
Number of laffs involving dogs pissing on dude's faces: 1

Directed by Robert Zemeckis (and produced by Steven Spielberg and John Milius!), USED CARS is the zany story of a zany used car dealership and its zany battle with a zany rival, which leads to a zany denouement. In short, it's frequently a little too zany for its own good.

Zany.

Thankfully, the infectious, chortling charisma of one smarmy, plaid-clad Mr. Kurt Russell keeps you watching even when the proceedings get a little too generic or groan-inducing.

Definitely in the same vein as something like D.C. CAB or 1941, predictable madcap insanity and endless hijinks ensue when two brothers' (both played by a convincing Jack Warden) rival car lots face off in the midst of Kurt's (who works for the nicer Warden) burgeoning state senate run. A gleeful, matter-of-fact depiction of graft and corruption (on the personal, state, and national levels) is one of the film's stronger suits- it doesn't poke fun at the fact that you can basically buy a state senate seat: that's just a casual fact of life in the film's (and our!) universe. And why not? In a world where dishonesty is rewarded and culpability shied away from, people'll grab a piece of the pie any way they can. The supporting cast is serviceable: LAVERNE AND SHIRLEY's Lenny and Squiggy (Michael McKean and David L. Lander) play mischievous A/V guys:

David L. Lander shows off the pacemaker he installed on Michael McKean.

Gerrit Graham plays Russell's superstitious right-hand man, and Dick Miller's even around for an obligatory cameo. Race, disco, Jimmy Carter, Iran, and the FCC are tackled, and one sequence seems to prophesy a certain impromptu half-time nudity that would occur some 20 years later. But it all comes back to Russell: cackling away, he's the epitome of lovable sleaze. From unsavory winks to glad-handing to hearty slaps on the back to various slapsticky antics, Russell shows himself to be a master of physical comedy.

And in a world of charlatans, Russell's one who you almost wouldn't mind being swindled by. Three stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE WHITE BUFFALO (1977, J. Lee Thompson)

Stars: 3.5 of 5.
Running Time: 97 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Bronson, Will Sampson, John Carradine, Jack Warden, Slim Pickens, Kim Novak, Ed Lauter. Music by John Barry.
Tag-lines: "Two legendary enemies unite to fight the charging white beast!!" and "YOU WON'T BELIEVE YOUR EYES!"

Part Dino De Laurentiis creature feature, part trippy Western, and part Charles Bronson shoot 'em up, THE WHITE BUFFALO failed to please the fans of any of those subgenres, and thus fell into obscurity. In actuality, it's a rather solid movie. Charles Bronson, decked out in 19th-Century shades and packin dual pistols in his sash, plays Wild Bill Hickok.

Most people in movies wake up from nightmares screaming. Bronson wakes up with guns blasting away, and thank God no one was in the top bunk.

Does he sleep while holding them?


Bronson: not at his best when tormented by visions of a white buffalo.

The nightmares involve a murderous white buffalo which has been manifesting itself in reality by destroying Native American villages.

The buffalo sequences involve gigantic puppets and expressionistic indoor sets full of snow, fir trees, and ominous shadows (think the maze in THE SHINING).

Some say hokey, I say atmospheric. There's well-written, mostly authentic Western banter ("You're up shit crick without a bull boat," "It's coldern'n a hooker's heart"); a mysteriously entrancing John Barry score; an appropriately douchey Ed Lauter (Shrike in DEATH WISH 3) as Tom Custer;

Jack Warden as Bronson's racist, irascible sidekick; Slim Pickens as a whacky wagon driver; Kim Novak as an old flame; John Carradine as a stately undertaker (see the same role, albeit sleazier, in THE SHOOTIST);

and Will Sampson as a humble warrior (who may just be a famous historical figure in disguise).

Costume possibly purchased at a souvenir shop.


Bronson threatens to thrown a man out of a moving carriage for using the word "friggin" in front of a lady. Yes, that seriously happens in this movie. (And the man is indeed thrown from the carriage and promptly killed by Native Americans.)

There's a few solid shootouts and some Bronson-esque detours, but the main thrust is the epic hunt for the buffalo, as if Jack London had written MOBY DICK. As far as trippy Westerns go, this was clearly a huge influence (aesthetically and thematically) on Jarmusch's DEAD MAN, and, frankly, I even prefer it to something like Jodorowsky's EL TOPO, as it never employs the ole "weirdness just for weirdness' sake." Three and a half stars.

-Sean Gill