Only now does it occur to me... GLORIA (1980)

Only now does it occur to me... that Gena Rowlands truly belongs in the Eastwood-Bronson canon. Her performance in John Cassavetes' GLORIA––as a brassy New Yorker who ends up playing bodyguard to a neighbor kid when his family is massacred by the mob––is majestically badass, as if Bette Davis were cast as Paul Kersey in DEATH WISH. I'd rank it among the best performances in any 80s action-thriller. It's a remarkable role because there's really nothing to compare it to: she's a fifty-something female action star who does most of her badassery while slinging around a oversized grandma purse, wobbling on open-toe Salvation Army heels, and dressed like she's on her way from a halfway house to a librarian's job interview.


Obviously, this is my new favorite thing in the world. Watch her get the upper hand on a mobster in a subway car (who I believe is a young Sonny Landham from PREDATOR and 48 HRS.)








For my money, this actually bests the "Do you feel lucky, punk?" speech from DIRTY HARRY.

All of this is set among a sleazy 1980, pre-Giuliani NYC––from deep in the Bronx to deeper in Queens––a gritty world where Lawrence Tierney's the bartender

young Tom Noonan (MANHUNTER, ROBOCOP 2) is a lanky mob henchman,

and there are bit parts by a desperate Buck Henry (THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH, THE GRADUATE)

and a nervous Julie Carmen (probably best known to readers of this site for IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS).

This whole thing is set to a deliciously melodramatic score by Bill Conti (ROCKY, THE KARATE KID). I'd long heard GLORIA written off as a "Cassavetes goes mainstream" sort of project (although Akira Kurosawa ranked it among his favorite films), but it's truly a master's class in acting, as intense as any of his more highly regarded masterpieces (THE KILLING OF A CHINESE BOOKIE, A WOMAN UNDER THE INFLUENCE, etc.), and I can't recommend it enough.

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: THE PROWLER (1981, Joseph Zito)

Stars: 2 of 5.
Running Time: 89 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: SFX by Tom Savini, Starring Lawrence Tierney (RESERVOIR DOGS, DILLINGER), Farley Granger (STRANGERS ON A TRAIN, THEY LIVE BY NIGHT), Vicky Dawson (ABC AFTERSCHOOL SPECIALS).
Tag-lines: "It will freeze your blood."
Best one-liner: "Hey, who turned off the band?"

THE PROWLER's a mediocre 80's slasher with some spectacular, eye-popping gore FX by Tom Savini. But in a decade where the bar for teenage horror has been set so high (NIGHT OF THE CREEPS, NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET, PHANTASM II, etc.), mediocre doesn't really cut it. The butchery and bloodshed are indeed squirmingly realistic, but I couldn't give two sh*ts about the plot or characters. So, though THE PROWLER's gore might be more accomplished from a technical standpoint, in retrospect, I found myself recalling more readily scenes from MANIAC! or DAY OF THE DEAD, where the gore helped move the story along- not the other way around. Now the film does build a palpable nighttime atmosphere and has a killer that's kind of like Tom Berenger in PLATOON + Jason Voorhees, but I'm kinda bored with this.

Director Joseph Zito went on to bigger and better things with FRIDAY THE 13TH PART IV and a tenure as one of Cannon Films' artists in residence (MISSING IN ACTION, INVASION U.S.A., and he was supposed to helm the scrapped Golan-Globus SPIDERMAN), but this slasher here is so 'through the motions' (especially so for 1981, long before the genre became stale) that it's immensely disappointing. Still, I would ordinarily be giving this three stars for the immaculate carnage and pitchfork swingin' G.I. (not to mention the double-barreled shotgun blast to the face that clearly inspired a similar scene in WILD AT HEART),

so why only two? Well, let's see. At the beginning of this film, I was promised a leading role from classic Hollywood mean drunk and all-around tough guy Lawrence Tierney. Instead, I get nearly no Tierney at all. I got more Tierney in SILVER BULLET. So I gotta take a star away.

And, let's face it, you're getting off easy- Tierney would have broken a bottle over your head or something. Two stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: FROM A WHISPER TO A SCREAM (1987, Jeff Burr)

AKA: THE OFFSPRING.
Stars: 3.5 of 5.
Running Time: 99 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Clu Gulager, Miriam Byrd-Nethery, Vincent Price, Terry Kiser, Lawrence Tierney (SILVER BULLET, RESERVOIR DOGS), Susan Tyrrell (BIG-TOP PEE-WEE, TAPEHEADS).
Tag-lines: "Fear......Times Four."
Best one-liner: "One thing I've learned, my dear, is that one is never too old for nightmares. "

"Welcome... to... Oldfield...eckk..." Wow. All is not right in the little hamlet of Oldfield, Tennessee, and what should clue you in is that its denizens include the legendary Vincent Price, a couple of members of the Gulager clan, Lawrence Tierney, and Terry Kiser (Bernie from WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S). But this film, from STEPFATHER II director and Gulager family friend Jeff Burr, is closer in character to an anthology of depressing O. Henry stories than TALES FROM THE CRYPT. And my nearly four-star rating is probably a bit misleading since it garners some extra stars from Clu and Vincent, and they're hardly in it. But I'm gonna go ahead and focus on the parts of the film they are in, cause, by gum, they're the best parts. Vincent functions here as Debbie Harry from TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE, if you will. He's just there for the frame story, which is kinda weak, and he's pretty decrepit, but goddammit, he's still VINCENT, and he's always amazing.


So let's get on to the meat of things, the segment which showcases the demented Gulagers, Clu and his wife Miriam Byrd-Nethery.

Their performances as elderly siblings are heartbreaking, and dripping with pathos: Clu the sad old man who pines for a young woman so much that he kills her and rapes the corpse, and Miriam the sad old woman who is in love with and demands to be frequently bathed by her brother. Instead of being delightfully demented or totally twisted, this piece is agonizing, somber, and it makes you feel kind of dirty.

It's art, to be sure, but damned if I could watch it again. And the Gulagers are so 'effin good that you empathize with each one to an absurd degree.

By the time Clu offs his sister, and the demon baby from the necrophilia session returns with a bone to pick, the rest of the movie doesn't matter.

This is all you need to know: the Gulagers are brilliant, and Price is still a legend. RIP Vincent and Miriam. Clu continues to appear with family members in totally whacked out films (most recently, the FEAST series).

-Sean Gill

Film Review: SILVER BULLET (1985, Daniel Attias)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Written by Stephen King, starring Corey Haim, Gary Busey, Terry O'Quinn, Everett McGill (TWIN PEAKS, HEARTBREAK RIDGE, THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS), Lawrence Tierney (DILLINGER, RESERVOIR DOGS), werewolf suit by Carlo Rambaldi, who did the SFX for E.T., Argento's DEEP RED, Fulci's LIZARD IN A WOMAN'S SKIN, and scores of other classics.
Tag-lines: "It started in May in a small town and every month after that whenever the moon is full... It came back..."
Best one-liner: "Holy jumped up bald-headed Jesus palomina. From him I'd expect it. Sometimes I think your common sense got paralysed along with your legs. But from you Jane? You're Miss Polly Practical!" (said by Gary Busey's 'Uncle Red.')

Stephen King's best screenplay + a load of Italian names in the credits (De Laurentiis, Capone, Postiglione, Rambaldi, etc.) + Gary Busey (fresh off of the insanity of D.C. CAB) saying "I feel like a virgin on prom night"

+ Terry O'Quinn exuding way more pathos than is necessary + paralyzed Corey Haim in a hot rod wheelchair

+ a really intense priestly Everett McGill (TWIN PEAKS, HEARTBREAK RIDGE) + Lawrence Tierney wielding a ball bat named "The Peacemaker"


+ some good old New England mysticism + nearly as much eye trauma as a Fulci fick = serious, unarguable quality.

That's right, SILVER BULLET is top-notch 80's horror. And somehow, having a largely Italian crew is the best thing to even happen to a Stephen King adaptation. King movies fall flat on their faces when the delicate tonal balance (of scares, humor, corniness, weird speech patterns, Americana, etc.) is upset. And that balance is, unfortunately, VERY easily upset. THE SHINING succeeds because there's only one tone- impassive, emotionless, mind-numbing terror. CREEPSHOW succeeds because it's played only for E.C. Comics-style, blood-soaked laughs. SILVER BULLET has only one tone, too- and it's ITALIANO! The Italians bulldoze through the scary and cornball stuff alike, oblivious to the difference between them, but with a shit-ton of gleefully macabre enthusiasm. And it works!

Then they let Busey do his own thing, too, which is always a must. Busey plays lovable drunk 'Uncle Red,' a man as prone to heroics as he is to passing out in a driveway during a family function. And no one, least of all the script girl, can possibly predict what'll come out of his mouth next. He's on fire. And instead of it merely being a sideshow of insanity, it's perfect for the character, makes Uncle Red a true jewel in the crown of 80's horror flickery, and provides the true humanist core of the picture.

A textbook example of escapist entertainment at its best. Five stars.

-Sean Gill