Film Review: MURPHY'S LAW (1986, J. Lee Thompson)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 100 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Bronson, Kathleen Wilhoite (ER, NURSE BETTY, THE EDGE), Carrie Snodgress (PALE RIDER, THE FURY), Robert F. Lyons (DEATH WISH 2, DARK NIGHT OF THE SCARECROW), Richard Romanus (MEAN STREETS, HEAVY METAL, OSCAR), Lawrence Tierney (RESERVOIR DOGS, DILLINGER, THE PROWLER). Produced by Menahem Golan, Yoram Globus, and Jill Ireland. Directed by J. Lee Thompson (GUNS OF NAVARONE, CAPE FEAR, DEATH WISH 4: THE CRACKDOWN).
Tag-line: "They stole everything he had. Now its time to pay."
Best one-liner: SEE REVIEW.

In a familiar, darkened alley:

"Psst- you know Murphy's Law?"
–"Sure, sure. 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.'"
"Actually, you're wrong."
–"Well, wouldn't that merely prove the law?"
"No. You wanna hear what Murphy's Law really is?"
–"Sure."
"DON'T FUCK WITH JACK MURPHY!"
–"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about a Golan/Globus/Bronson flick that you need to check out, immediately."
–"I've seen most of those already- DEATH WISH II, DEATH WISH 3, ASSASSINATION, MESSENGER OF DEATH..."
"Whoa-whoa- You've seen MESSENGER OF DEATH, but not MURPHY'S LAW? What the fuck is wrong with you... scrotum cheeks?"
–"What did you just call me?"
"I called you scrotum cheeks, ya... snot-lickin' donkey fart."
–"Hold the phone- wherever did these remarkable insults come from?"
"What the hell have we been talking about... toejam?– MURPHY'S goddamned LAW!"
–"All of these vivid disparagements derive from a single source?"
"Lemme lay it out for ya. Charles Bronson is Jack Murphy. He's one tough cop, but his wife left 'im. He's subsequently been hittin' the bottle a little too much. A bottle of Frangelico, to be precise.

Note the Frangelico. No sign of any Mandom, though.

Well, that's actually just in one scene, but I'm forced to assume that whenever I see him with a flask, he is knockin' back some of the rich, Hazelnutty delights that Frangelico offers the discerning dessert liqueur aficionado.

Anyway, he's not doin' so well.

Somebody stole his car–"
–"Somebody stole his car? Are you thinking of 'It's MY CAR!' from DEATH WISH 3?"
"No, I'm not, and don't interrupt me again. Kathleen Wilhoite (a scrappy dame who could have been the next Lori Petty had she played her cards right) is the car thief. Remember that, cause it's important later. She gives Bronson the classic Cannon low-blow and escapes.

Bronson recovers from a well-delivered bop to the Bazzinis.

Anyway, Bronson's wife is a stripper who kinda looks like Vanna White.

("I'm a dancer." –"You call THAT dancing?!").
Bronson views this with disdain:

Anyway, somebody with a grudge KILLS her- and frames Bronson. Bronson is arrested, handcuffed in lockup to the same car-thieving malfeasant Kathleen Wilhoite, and then ESCAPES!"
–"So, it's like THE DEFIANT ONES, but with a foul-mouthed spitfire."
"Listen, it's not just any foul-mouthed spitfire- it's a Cannon Films foul-mouthed spitfire."
–"Ah, you refer to those magnificent insults you abused me with, earlier."
"Precisely. You want another sampling?"
–"Lay it on me."
"Pervert. Scrotum cheeks. Jism breath. Camel crotch. Snot-lickin' donkey fart. Dick Tracey. Two-inch-pecker. Scumbag cop. Toejam. Monkey vomit. Fart brains. Shall I go on? Slimeball. Suck a doorknob, ya homo.
 
Dickbrain. Jock itch. Penis head. Kiss my squirrel. Kiss my pantyhose. José. Buffalo shit. Booger bits. Sperm bank. Mutant. Asshole. Snot-suckin' garbage dump. Airwolf. Barf bag. Dog snot. Motor mouth. Dog piss. Sperm count. Dinosaur dorks.
Douche bag. Anchovy breath. Pepperoni breath. Weenie roast."
–I don't believe I've ever heard so many creative put-downs in all my life!"
"Well, now I'll get into the special reserve: Dildo nose. Butt crust. Pubic hair."
–"'Pubic hair?' Are you serious?"
"Yeah. As in, 'Hey, pubic hair, I'm talkin' to ya!'"
–"Is that some sort of crass allusion to Bronson's stache?"
"Come to think of it, it might be. But that's not all: there's arbitrary homophobia (Bronson: 'Come on admit it, you're a dyke'),

eyebrow-raising misogyny,

random, anti-Italian sentiment,

a Lawrence Tierney cameo,

a mobster with a hearing aid, a notice of divorce... from the Supreme Court, pleather vests, a showdown filmed at the cavernous apartment dwelling of J.F. Sebastian from BLADE RUNNER, a closing song- called 'Murphy's Law'- that is so jazzy, it practically reinvents the word, and the following poster which randomly appears:

which I wish could hang on every wall in my home."
–"Wow, it sounds good. And I kinda want that poster, too."
"See what I mean? And do you remember that scene in DEATH WISH 4: THE CRACKDOWN? The one where Bronson says 'I'm MAKIN' a SANDWICH!'"
–"Oh yeah, how could I forget!"
"Well there's kind of a similarly-themed scene here, too. One of MURPHY'S LAW's greatest strengths is the dialogue. Dale Morgan Hickman- who also wrote DEATH WISH 4- is a literary titan to be reckoned with. For example, Wilhoite asks Bronson if he'd like a sandwich, and the following transpires:

Would you like a sandwich?







Come on... I can't be the only one thinking of Samuel Beckett."
–"Funny, I was gonna say Pinter- there's a bit of an underlying menace to it, don't you think?"
"I'd say you're missing the point. Something about the dialogue- it takes on a greater significance than any other element in the film. Look at this:


Maybe the entire idea of a female villain was devised so that they could use this specific line of dialogue. I mean, look at the care which was put into the insults. It's a literary film. One where the words matter."
–"Maybe you go a bit too far."
"Maybe I do- but maybe it's just the kind of sincere devotion that MURPHY'S LAW cultivates in its viewers."
–"Well, I don't know. I guess I'll have to see it for myself."
"Do that."
–"Okay."
"One more thing-"
–"What?"
"Chicken's good, mayo's bad, AND DON'T FUCK WITH JACK MURPHY!"
–"Words to live by, I think."

Film Review: VIOLENT CITY (1970, Sergio Sollima)

Stars: 3.9 of 5.
Running Time: 100 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Bronson, Jill Ireland, Telly Savalas, George Savalas, Michel Constantin, Umberto Orsini. Music by Ennio Morricone. Screenplay co-written by Lina Wertmüller (SWEPT AWAY, SEVEN BEAUTIES).
Tag-line: "The Godfather" Gave You an Offer You Couldn't Refuse. "The Family" Gives You No Alternative." Classic.
Best one-liner: “You shouldn’t tell daddy lies.”

Sergio Sollima’s VIOLENT CITY is a fairly standard Eurocrime flick full of the standard revenge seekers, codes of honor, jealousy, femmes fatale, mob bosses, and absurd dubbing. But there are a few elements- including the squinty, stoic presence of Charles Bronson; the New Orleans locale; the freaky patchwork of flashbacks, hallucinations, and psychedlia; the unnverving, animalistic, avant-garde Ennio Morricone score; and a shocking, stylish, expressionistic, take no prisoners finale- which really push this thing over the edge. It's no REVOLVER, but it's certainly well worth a watch. (In fact, at times it almost seems to be a loose remake of my all-time favorite noir, OUT OF THE PAST?!) But as in many (Italian) films of this type, it's not the big car chases or the big shootouts that win you over-


Though the shootouts and chases are by no means bad– note the use of frightened children.

-instead it's the bizarro subtleties, eclectic performances, and screwy flourishes. So here's 11 reasons why Sollima's VIOLENT CITY is a place worth visiting:

#1. Bronson is not scared of tarantulas. Or at least mind-blowingly outré tarantula puppets (its unsettling movements must be seen to be believed). In a display of raw machismo, he allows the monster spider to slowly walk past his crotch as he ponders the meaning of his life from the confines of a jail cell.


What's even more ridiculous is that this scene is really well done. The Morricone score drones with suspenseful foreboding; Bronson's cell-mates watch in jaw-clenching horror– and the scene ends with a masterfully jarring *WHOMP* of a finale.

#2. Morricone twangs. I don't care if Lee van Cleef is unbuttoning his saddle to reveal an arsenal of guns or Bronson is revealing that his picnic basket is full of weapons- Morricone will provide a booming, thunderous TWANNNG-G-G! to accompany it. His sense of humor is often apparent in his scores, and VIOLENT CITY is no exception- but he'll quickly wipe away that smirk and replace it with a sonorous growl if he has to...

#3. Telly Savalas. As a suave New Orleansonian mob boss, Savalas gets lots of massages and dispenses fatherly advice to Bronson ("You shouldn't tell daddy lies").

In fact, he's always making references to how Bronson is some greenhorn who can't remember the good ole days (“You wouldn’t understand, you’re too young").

Well, for starters, Bronson is a year older than Savalas; but secondly, Bronson looks like a well-grizzled war vet shitkicker who's no stranger to the insides of a coal mine (well...that's because it's all true), whereas Savalas kinda looks like Mr. Potato Head.

I think it's the glasses that really pull it all together.

In all seriousness, though, Savalas is great. He collaborated four times with Bronson, and here, his smooth, skeezy, and hobnobby presence is an excellent foil to Bronson's laconic badass.

#4. George Savalas, Telly's brother. What is this, FORCED TO KILL?

#5. Bronson's disdainful refusal of a girl drink from Savalas- which, in a single moment, perfectly lays out the relationship between the two men.


#6. Lina Wertmüller's work on the screenplay. An interesting choice for co-writer on an action flick, Wertmüller's solo work tackles politics, gender dynamics, and the natural forces which drive men and women alike to act so despicably, again and again. Her influence comes through most clearly in the semi-complex love/hate hate/love relationship between Bronson and Jill Ireland's character.

#7. Sleazy Antonioni. When beautiful Italo-cinematography collides with genre cinema, a sort of seedy, art house aesthetic emerges, which I clearly like quite a bit.



If Bronson were in L'AVVENTURA, it'd probably look a lot like this.


#8. Bronson's lawyer is hitting on him the entire movie. I'm not sure that Bronson was aware of it- in fact, I'm certain he wasn't, but there's an extremely awkward, one-sided homoerotic dynamic at play here.

Umberto Orsini: unrequited love at the tennis court.


Bronson: flattered, but possibly unable to even fathom the concept of same-sex attraction.

#9. Bronson passive-aggressively stomps on Jill Ireland's photos a full 32 years before Asia Argento would aggressive-aggressively stomp on photos of Vincent Gallo in SCARLET DIVA.


#10. Bronson as a sicky.

I'm not sure I can exactly pinpoint it, but there's something extremely clichéd and surreal about this image, which is fantastic. Get the man an ice pack, please.

#11. Not exactly part of the film, but in an interview with Sollima on the Anchor Bay DVD, he is reminiscing about how Jon Voight was originally considered for the Bronson role. Only he doesn't say "Jon Voight"– he says "Angelina Jolie's dad."

Annnnd on that note... nearly four stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE EVIL THAT MEN DO (1984, J. Lee Thompson)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 90 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Bronson, José Ferrer, John Glover, Joseph Maher.
Tag-line: "In the execution of justice there is no executioner like BRONSON."
Best one-liner: "Three is all right with me!"

"In the execution of justice there is no executioner like BRONSON," says the tag-line. The fifth of about twelve billion collaborations between Charles Bronson and English director J. Lee Thompson (ST. IVES, DEATH WISH 4), THE EVIL THAT MEN DO is one of those Bronsons that frequently shifts between 'mediocre' and 'fan-fuckin-tastic.' J. Lee wants you to know right off the bat that he is not effin' around, so he introduces our villain, Dr. Molloch, a kindly old man who kills captured dissidents for a living. We begin with frontal nudity, electrodes on balls, and a tooth-snappingly horrific torture session. It's not long before ex-hitman Bronson's on the case and killing those responsible, one by one. Standard stuff. But here's eight reasons why this flick is still of note:

#1. Associate producer Jill Ireland. Gotta fit her in somehow.

#2. How damn happy Bronson is at his beachside home.

He's all smiles, and has a friendship with a fish named Quasimodo. Unfortunately the evil that men do requires Bronson to take a road trip to Guatemala.

#3. John Glover. One of the finest actors of all time.

Here, he plays an evil, mincing U.S. ambassador who is sleazy to the max. His best scene involves a weaselly rage directed at some warm Guatemalan beer.

"It's CALIENTE!"

#4. Extended Bronson low blow. Now, the other day, I see that someone found this site by Googling "brutal ball-squeezing." I now feel as if I have standards of quality in brutal ball-squeezing to maintain. So, submitted, for your consideration:




In perhaps the longest balls-grab in film history, Bronson dives at some goon's junk with both hands- twisting and crumpling for nearly a minute- until the big lug passes out. DAMN!

#5. Undercover Bronson pretending to be a swinger.

Bronson:

"We've been into things like wife-swappin'. THREE'S all right with ME!"

Unsuspecting villain: "You got a place?"

Bronson:

"YOU BET!"

My mind has been blown.


#6. Bronson's look of disdain as he hides beneath a mattress as two lesbians do it!

He seems to showing the rare Bronson emotion of FEAR. Is he afraid of the concept of lesbianism or that he'll be crushed by the mattress?

One of my all-time favorite Bronson scenes best viewed out of context.


#7. Another dummy flung from a great height.

When I first said I thought this was in Bronson's contract, I meant it as a joke, but now I'm beginning to think I've been right from the start.

#8. The FREAKS-style revenge finale. I won't spoil it, but after some run-of-the-mill car chases, it ends on a borderline trashy, extremely cathartic note.

Four stars.

-Sean Gill