Only now does it occur to me... WATERWORLD (1995)

Only now does it occur to me... that the 1990s were all about taking existing stories and setting them on a boat. 

First, we got UNDER SIEGE. You cannot dispute that it's DIE HARD on a boat. That's the entire elevator pitch.

SPEED 2: CRUISE CONTROL? SPEED on a boat, obviously. Easy.

CAPTAIN RON?... is clearly WHAT ABOUT BOB on a boat. Think about it.

WHITE SQUALL? Eh, DEAD POETS SOCIETY on a boat.

DOWN PERISCOPE? Pretty much KELLY'S HEROES on a boat.

DEEP RISING? Definitely FROM DUSK TILL DAWN on a boat (or SCARECROWS works, too).

CRIMSON TIDE? Sorta FAIL SAFE/DR. STRANGELOVE on a boat. (Yeah, submarine, whatever.)

NAVY SEALS, with Charlie Sheen and Michael Biehn? TOP GUN on a boat. (With fewer volleyball and even more propaganda.)

THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER? I'm gonna make the argument that it's your classic intelligence game/defector/TINKER, TAILOR, SOLDIER, SPY story, mainly so I can remind you that the rhyme which gives John le Carre's novel its title originally says "sailor" instead of "spy," so why don't you go think about that for a minute as you ponder all these 90s boats (and submarines, too, I guess).

CABIN BOY? This one's a little tougher. There's a little DON QUIXOTE, PEE WEE'S BIG ADVENTURE, and MONTY PYTHON in there. Nevertheless, you must admit that it takes place on a boat.

TITANIC? Could go a lot of ways here, from WUTHERING HEIGHTS to GONE WITH THE WIND to AIRPORT or whatever, but as the highest-grossing movie of the 1990s, there's definitely the sense that it helps define the 90s as a boat-related decade.

Which brings us to WATERWORLD. Which is... MAD MAX: THE ROAD WARRIOR on a boat!

It takes FISHTAR-sized balls to open your summer blockbuster with Kevin Costner drinking his own pee. This is literally the first thing we see, after a Waterworlded version of the Universal logo.

This, and the rest of WATERWORLD, is George Miller-infused, post-apocalyptic madness, chock full of oil and gasoline-seeking weirdos, Terry Gilliam/Karel Zeman flying machines, and costumes made out of trash and (pirate) bondage gear. (Big shoutout to costumer John Bloomfield, who also did CONAN THE BARBARIAN and THE MUMMY '99, among others.)

 

Despite the troubled production and its awful "KEVIN'S GATE" reputation, WATERWORLD, when you get down to it, is actually pretty enjoyable. It's certainly no worse than typical, semi-competent 90s popcorn fare like INDEPENDENCE DAY or TWISTER or SPEED. Speaking of SPEED: Dennis Hopper is in the house, and he's having a blast.

As "The Deacon," the one-eyed barbarian king of "The Smokers," his only character traits are that he's sadistic, insane, and loves smoking. Here he is, tossing handfuls of cigarettes at a parade like they're candy:

He says things like "I swear to Poseidon" and "Excuuuuuuse me!" and even tries to get little children hooked on tobacco with the promise of Sharpie Highlighters.

He gives it just the right amount of "crazy-eye to comedy" ratio, never going full-Busey (Gary Busey––along with Jack Nicholson, Gary Oldman, Samuel L. Jackson, and Laurence Fishburne were also up for the role.)

There's a lot going on here, from a generic James Newton Howard Score to Costner having gills behind his ears and webbed feet, but they manage to make room for Kim Coates playing a weird Irishman rapist with costume elements made from the infamous, fish-choking six-pack rings.

So that's something. Costner even allows a female lead to share the screen with him on occasion, and it's Jeanne Tripplehorn, whose name often appears in the same sentence as the words "deserves better."

She endured literal brushes with death, jellyfish stings, and being stuck on a boat with Kevin Costner. Of the experience, she said “I was feeling a little like Patty Hearst. I was just completely brainwashed by my captors and I was just out there trying to get through it.” Holy shit, WATERWORLD! I guess it's all worth it cause she gets this nice n' corny SUPERMAN/"Can You Read My Mind?" sequence where Costner uses his webbed feet to swim her down to the bottom of the ocean to take a magical look at the ruined remnants of Indianapolis or wherever.

Anyway. MAD MAX on a boat!

Only now does it occur to me... CARLITO'S WAY (1993)

Only now does it occur to me... that CARLITO'S WAY is probably one of De Palma's best. It has all the ridiculous vintage spectacle of SCARFACE (i.e., a life of crime occasionally depicted as a sleazy Mentos commercial) alongside the endlessly creative visual storytelling that you've come to expect from De Palma,

but it also possesses some incredibly nuanced character development, particularly in the dynamic between Carlito (Al Pacino)
 
Pacino: pictured wearing a leather duster during a heat wave––something that likely soured Pacino on subway filming at least until he played Satan in THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE. According the the doc DE PALMA, he walked off set that night, mid-shoot!

and his scuzzy lawyer (Sean Penn, in one of his finest performances).

I'm not even joking about the caliber of Penn's work here––he's phenomenal.

Furthermore, there are brilliant supporting turns by underground NYC standby Rick Aviles,

pre-fame Viggo Mortensen (back when he was still a character actor),

a ubiquitously likable Luis Guzman, and a subtly chilling John Leguizamo.


But, as you can probably tell––being as this is an "Only now does it occur to me"––I'm about to dive into some minutiae. First, I'd like to call out a Dario Argento reference. De Palma is no stranger to giving a nod to his post-Hitchcock contemporary across the pond. Historically, DRESSED TO KILL is chock full of Argento references, and there's a pretty substantial TENEBRE homage in THE UNTOUCHABLES. Here, it's a little subtler. Pacino is stalking his ex-girlfriend Penelope Ann Miller and he follows her––in the rain––to a ballet academy.


Probably only the die-hards would read this as an abstract reference to SUSPIRIA, whose infamous opening scene involves a furtive (and voyeuristic) visit to a ballet academy in the pouring rain.

Finally, I wanted to salute the MVP of CARLITO'S WAY: Dancing Phone Call Woman. Allow me to explain.

At El Paraiso, Carlito's dance club (the name is a reference to the sandwich shop in SCARFACE), the revelers revel mostly in bottom-shelf cocaine and top-shelf disco.

De Palma is brilliant at staging group scenes with dozens of extras. Look no further than the "Relax" scene from BODY DOUBLE. Some directors don't direct their extras at all, some use an assistant director, and some assistant directors just tell the performers where to stand. De Palma is precise––incredibly so––and practically every single extra is doing something specific and visually interesting. There are no rooms of people randomly milling about, mumbling "peas and carrots, peas and carrots," wondering what the hell to do with their hands. This leads me to the all-star background artist of CARLITO'S WAY: Dancing Phone Call Woman. As De Palma's camera roams the room, in one corner, behind an open door, there is a woman on the phone. No, she is not merely on the phone––she is shaking a maraca while on the phone. And, no, she is not merely shaking a maraca while on the phone––she is dancing up a storm, twirling like Stevie Nicks, shaking a maraca, and beaming like a beauty contestant––all while making a phone call from a land line with a spiral-coil cord. 

I salute you, Twirling-Dancing-Maraca-Phone Call Woman. You are a special, irreplaceable thread in the tapestry that is CARLITO'S WAY. You are a goddamned champion.

Film Review: STREET SMART (1987, Jerry Schatzberg)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 97 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Morgan Freeman, Christopher Reeve, Kathy Baker (EDWARD SCISSORHANDS), Andre Gregory (MY DINNER WITH ANDRE), Jay Patterson (MCBAIN), Rick Aviles ('Rat Man' in THE STAND), Erik King (Doakes on Showtime's DEXTER), Mimi Rogers (WEDLOCK, THE RAPTURE), Leslie Carlson (VIDEODROME). Music by Robert Irving III and Miles Davis.
Tag-line: "Everything you say can and will be held against you."
Best one-liner: "I will show you the streets, man."

Whenever Cannon pulls off a genuine prestige picture, I feel as if it's like your zany kid brother inexplicably made the Honor Roll and you're like 'How the eff did he pull that off?' cause he spent all semester breakdancing in the lunchroom, eating Charles Bronson's ice cream confections, and palling around with Michael Dudikoff. The only real 'Cannon elements' are the sheer audacity, the number of references to shoving objects up asses, and the (Miles Davis + slap-happy bass synths) soundtrack.

And maybe a few of the costumes.

Regardless, Palm d'Or winner Jerry Schatzberg (SCARECROW, THE PANIC IN NEEDLE PARK) and writer David Freeman (THE BORDER) assemble a first-rate critique of modern journalism, which, with uncommon evenhandedness, eloquently tackles issues regarding race, sensationalism, the educated elite, and the justice system. The performances are top-notch: Christopher Reeve as the wanna-be muckraker whose high-horse is a bit shorter than he'd like to believe;

Morgan Freeman as "Fast Black," the volatile pimp who'll affably share a Yoo-hoo with you one moment,

then smash it and jab its shards into your neck the next;

Erik King as Fast's quiet, brutal lieutenant (in a belly shirt and visor sunglasses); Andre Gregory as Reeve's douchey, elitist publisher ("Your moral courage sells magazines!" is his patronizing reassurance); Kathy Baker as a likable, defiant hooker (in a nuanced and astonishingly realistic performance);

Jay Patterson as a determined District Attorney; and a macabre bit part by Rick Aviles as Solo, the pimp ("I'm the only man you're gonna need...Don't lie to Solo."). There are all sorts of wonderfully orchestrated awkward moments, both in terms of comedy (Reeve's worlds collide when Fast attends a high-society soiree) and suspense (Reeve trapped in a car beside Fast as he threatens to slice up one of his ladies),

and the denouement (involving a descent into manipulation and 'Gotcha!' journalism) does not disappoint. Four stars. To the Go-Go boys, I say: Fine work.


-Sean Gill

Television Review: THE STAND (1994, Mick Garris)

Stars: 2 of 5.
Running Time: 366 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Mick Garris (CRITTERS 2, THE SHINING TV remake, creator of Showtime's MASTERS OF HORROR), Ed Harris, Kathy Bates, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Stephen King, Gary Sinise, Jamey Sheridan (THE ICE STORM), Miguel Ferrer (Albert on TWIN PEAKS), Sam Anderson (Bernard on LOST), Corin Nemec, Molly Ringwald, Ossie Davis (interestingly enough, in a role for whom I always pictured Clu Gulager), Ruby Dee, Rob Lowe, Rick Aviles, Laura San Giacomo (JUST SHOOT ME), Bill Fagerbakke (QUIGLEY), Warren Frost (Dr. Hayward on TWIN PEAKS), John Landis, Sam Raimi.
Tag-lines: "The end of the world is just the beginning."
Best one-liner(s): "Don't screw with my disco, Nadine!"

Wow. This is truly a travesty. This is an unadulterated, horrid mess. I don't truly consider myself to be Stephen King fan, but I would rank his novel, THE STAND, among the best works of literature of the 20th Century's latter half. It's epic, poignant, funny, and REAL; it's both pulp entertainment and serious art. It builds a tapestry of well-developed characters and vivid locales, and when it's finished, you feel as if some new friends have just departed. Now this film, by Mick Garris, is another entity entirely. It has about as much to do with King's THE STAND as DUMB AND DUMBER has to do with Dostoevsky's THE IDIOT. I blame Garris and his handlers. Horror master George Romero was planning a feature film based on THE STAND, but, for whatever unfortunate reason, it never panned out. And we can't blame the casting director; Gary Sinise, Jamey Sheridan, Miguel Ferrer, Ossie Davis, Sam Anderson, Ray Walston, Ed Harris, and Kathy Bates (the latter two, unfortunately, in cameos) deliver absolutely brilliant performances amidst the carnage, and Rick Aviles chillingly shines as the "Rat Man." However, Molly Ringwald's long lost whatever she had in the 80's, Rob Lowe's slightly out of place, and Corin Nemec's fake pimples are not enough to make me believe he's the completely repulsive 'Harold Lauter.' In fact, he's probably one of the most handsome actors in the cast. The film stock is terrible, and is constantly changing resolutions, sometimes from film to video, and I know that this is inherent in the elements and not the fault of the DVD.

I shall sum up the majority of my problems with the film with the description of one brief, climactic element. I don't want to give anything away, but a key sequence involves, shall we say, a visualization of 'The Hand of God.' What Garris spews forth is FAR worse than:

A. Nothing at all
B. A title card that says 'Hand of God,
C. A hand waved in front of the camera lens.
D. This.

Yes, dear Readers, it's even worse than THIS.

Mick Garris has transformed a work of extreme power, emotion, and import into something not even worth a good laugh. Perhaps a whimper, or maybe a scoff. Two stars (for Ed Harris).

-Sean Gill