Only now does it occur to me... EDTV

Only now does it occur to me...  that in the 90s, they totally made a prequel to TRUE DETECTIVE.

It features Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey as two men with a volatile love-hate relationship who spend a great deal of time speaking in front of video cameras; furthermore, Harrelson plays a philanderer, and McConaughey ends up sleeping with Harrelson's girlfriend.  Now whaddya think about that?  Methinks Nic Pizzolatto was taking notes!

Half-kidding aside, this film sorta feels like THE TRUMAN SHOW reimagined as a corporate 90s romantic comedy, but it has a few inspired casting choices– including Martin Landau as McConaughey's stepdad, Adam Goldberg (in what feels like a DAZED AND CONFUSED crossover) as his old pal, and Dennis Hopper as his long lost biological dad.

Perhaps this can be metaphorically applied to TRUE DETECTIVE:  Landau is the Gothic window dressing, but Hopper is the true, secret, Lynchian father figure?

And Clint Howard's in there, too, because this is a Ron Howard movie and it just wouldn't be right otherwise.

I must also give special mention to McConaughey's Houston Oilers-beer-cozy-necklace:

which is pretty wonderful, but, to be clear, I am not recommending this movie.  Carry on.

Junta Juleil's Top 100: #100-#96

Alright, here we go, ladies and gentlemen:

#100. AMERICAN GRAFFITI (1973, George Lucas)

Ah, how I love the late 50's, early 60's nostalgia pic, of which AMERICAN GRAFFITI is the beloved grandaddy. Though I and many of the genre's admirers cannot lay claim to having experienced the era firsthand, so many films which I deeply enjoy (THE WANDERERS, STAND BY ME, CHRISTINE, etc., etc.) use it as an effective template for imparting profound lessons about the nature of adulthood and what it means and feels like to be on the cusp of it, the cusp of that storied abyss. (They also use it as an effective template for cramming in as many great Oldies tunes as is humanly possible!) In retrospect, I can't help but feel that these films go even further, sort of imparting mythical lessons about what life was like Before Things Got Shitty, or the fairy-tale time When People Had Something To Look Forward To. Now perhaps I'm being somewhat facetious, but it certainly feels that way these days. Regardless, this is a humanist masterpiece with a vital young cast (Ron Howard, Richard Dreyfuss, Cindy Williams, Charles Martin Smith, Paul Le Mat, Candy Clark, Mackenzie Phillips, among others) and a bittersweet ending that speaks toward What Came Next. It's George Lucas (or was it really Marcia?) at his best.

#99. SOMEWHERE IN TIME (1980, Jeannot Szwarc)

I'm not exactly a fan of the 'Romance' genre by any means, but the genuine aura of tenderness and melancholy which flows forth from this movie can play my emotions like a piano. As he has proven again and again, Richard Matheson's mastery of time travel as a narrative device is rarely (if ever) matched; he tackles it not as science, but as a reverie, an abstraction, a wandering sense of nostalgia and regret. John Barry's score is a pleasure to the point of pain, and Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour's connectedness easily make us forget about pop culture personas like "Superman" and "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman." A beautiful film, and one which didn't blow 'em away at the box office, but which has inspired a rabid cult following, including an extremely dedicated fan club which predates the Internet.

#98. RUNAWAY TRAIN (1985, Andrei Konchalovsky)

A prison escape film, of sorts, which passed through the hands of Akira Kurosawa, Paul Zindel, Eddie Bunker, and Golan & Globus before it became white-knuckle reality. RUNAWAY TRAIN is scraping steel, snowy vistas, blood and oil and grease and steam. The sheer, absolutely brutish intensity of Jon Voight and John P. Ryan is mind-blowing- we see men become animals, we see animals become men. Eric Roberts gets in on the action, too– this thing is a goddamn master's course in acting. One of the most potent, well-constructed thrillers in recent memory.

#97. THE PENALTY (1920, Wallace Worsley)

Some of you know that I'm quite the Lon Chaney devotee; I've said in the past "from his achievements in self-mutilation to his mind-blowing makeup effects to his mastery of the crazy-eye to his portrayals of mad jealousy, mangling frustration, and unfettered pathos; he assembled a vast body of work that really can't be matched for variety, commitment, or poignancy- and half of his films are lost!" The man's masochistic streak and tortured countenance are well-demonstrated here in THE PENALTY as he plays a frightening gangster named "Blizzard" whose legs were mistakenly amputated as a boy. The apparatus he uses to sell the effect is astounding, as are the nuances in his facial expressions, particularly given the fact that he was in enormous pain and hence prone to losing consciousness for the duration of the shoot. This is silent melodrama at its finest: whether it's slugging you in the gut or tugging at your heart-strings, you feel as if you've utterly surrendered yourself to the experience– it grabs you by the lapels and takes you for a ride, and isn't that what cinema's all about?

#96. ACE IN THE HOLE (1951, Billy Wilder)

Ah, the "newspaper flick." They're full of gritty, fast-talking men who're part-time wordsmiths and full-time swindlers, the sort of men who'd rather die than see some rival publication get the scoop. Enter Kirk Douglas, a gal-slappin' sonofabitch named Chuck Tatum who turns manipulatin' the masses into a spectator sport. I applaud this film and its ridiculous cynicism; it knew that that the days of aw, shucks truth-bending ("when the legend becomes fact, print the legend," anyone?) would one day give way to poisonous, THEY LIVE-grade distortions on a global scale. The alternate title was THE BIG CARNIVAL, and how goddamned right they were, what a big fucken carnival, indeed. As this list progresses, I'll likely say that a number of films seem prophetic in today's world (including this one!), but then again I suppose the repressers of the truth have always been sonsabitches; just who knew to what scale they'd end up takin' it? ACE IN THE HOLE is a movie that takes you by the throat, leads you toward the glory of "The Information Age," and shows you a few of the uglier pit-stops along the way. I also highly recommend: SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS and NETWORK.

Coming up next...some Carpy, some Polanski, and possibly the biggest, baddest tear-jerker of all time!

Film Review: FORCED TO KILL (1994, Russell Solberg)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 93 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Michael Ironside, Corey Michael Eubanks, Clint Howard, Rance Howard, Mickey Jones, Don Swayze.
Best one-liner: [Ironside shoots a man dead.] "GET UP!!!"

A great start to any weekend is some Ironside, so here we are. On a previous Ironside week, I showcased the trailer for this fine flick, which made such redunkulous claims as "one of this year's most critically acclaimed and explosive pictures," "without a doubt, one of the most exciting, action-packed feature films to ever come out of Hollywood," and "a must-see guaranteed to to THRILL audiences...everywhere." More appropriate might have been "more Ironside angry face and more cars hurtling through the air and exploding per capita than any comparable film."






The drinking game inclined can do whatever they wish with that information, but I cannot take responsibility for the consequences. Now for the review:

Grab a #2 pencil, and join me for a brief survey: Do you like silly, clichéd action flicks; villains with Sides of Iron, Swayzes that aren't Patrick, or the extended family of Ron Howard? When you see a van, are you unhappy until it's flying through the air en route to a fiery, fiery demise? When you see two men, do you pray that they'll soon be covered in mud and roundhouse kicking each other to death while surrounded by a relentlessly fist-pumpin', hollerin' crowd that looks culled straight from the background loop of an old STREETFIGHTER game? If you answered 'yes' to any of the above questions, then allow me to write you a prescription for FORCED TO KILL. That way, if anyone catches you watching it, you can say, "Oh, it's doctor's orders."

The film is made with genuine affection, and the proof is in the pudding- it was written, directed, and starred in by seasoned stuntmen. Sure, nobody's giving F.W. Murnau a run for his money or anything, but they've certainly perfected the art of 'bodies blasted from helicopters into the wakes of speedboats during high-speed chases.'

I'm fairly certain that even F.W. Murnau would concede that this is pretty effin' schweet.


What is this? Was Herzog somehow involved?

Corey Eubanks (son of Bob, writer of this, stuntman in everything from PEE WEE’S BIG ADVENTURE to MULHOLLAND DR.) is our repo man/martial artist hero who’s kidnapped by a cadre of hicks to compete in their hayseed fight club. Eubanks possesses a profound awkwardness- the stilted line delivery of Keanu Reeves (“Can I get you anything?…an ambulance?”), the loopy élan of JCVD, and the constant facial indicating of a community theater actor.

Needless to say, I liked him right away. Seriously. He’s got a certain, rare energy that should’ve led to a more substantial acting career, at least in B movies.

Michael Ironside's real-life best friend Mickey Jones:

and Don Swayze:

(the fact that he never played Patrick’s evil twin is one of film’s great disappointments) lend us some bumpkinny street cred.

Michael Ironside lets loose with some redunkulous villainy (and here in his second Solberg/Eubanks flick- the first being PAYBACK in '91).

What is Mike drinking there? Can anybody I.D. it? (Doesn't look like Labatt Maximum Ice.)

He plays the small town's extremely put-upon sheriff:

I'd rather be....CHAINDANCIN'.

whose only joy in life is submitting fighters for this backwoods battle royale.

'Hey! I don't have to wear a cardigan!'

Of course, Corey Michael Eubanks is the fly in the ointment, but Ironside has got a few tricks up his sleeve-

“I guarantee you she will die the slowest, most painful death I can come up with.”

Shit! The worst that IRONSIDE can come up with?! Hot damn! I’d rather take my chances with Torquemada!

In all, this is a pretty great "kith n' kin" flick (also see: HUNTER'S BLOOD, THE LONG RIDERS, or anything with Frank Stallone, Joey Travolta, or Baldwins that aren't Alec) as we've got Bob Eubanks' son, Patrick Swayze's brother, and Ron Howard's pop and brother.

Clint plays a sad sack 'Nam vet.

I guess you could say that this movie is extremely relative. Four stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE SHOOTIST (1976, Don Siegel)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 100 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: John Wayne, Ron Howard, Jimmy Stewart, Lauren Bacall, John Carradine, Scatman Crothers, Richard Boone (HAVE GUN, WILL TRAVEL).
Tag-lines: "He's got to face a gunfight once more to live up to his legend once more. To win just one more time.
Best one-liner: "Put it in a nutshell? You couldn't put it in a barrel without a bottom. You're the longest winded bastard I've ever known."

Art imitates death. Portrait of an aging gunfighter: J.B. Books. A shootist. A legend. Diagnosed with a cancer, eating him alive from within. The laundanum offers less and less respite each day. Yet, not content to let him die on his own terms, everyone wants to carve out one final piece before he's in the grave. And we're not simply talking about vengeful outlaws who want one last shot at his hide- we're talking an undertaker who wants to sell tickets to the funeral (with a cameo by John Carradine), an old flame who wants a book deal, a crooked newspaperman with an agenda, an endless parade of yahoos who want the last 'fill-in-the-blank' J.B. Books ever used/owned/had. It's the same pack of scavengers who one hundred years later operates tabloids, Lifetime movies, and the like. And, hell, John Waters has always said that the final indignity suffered by the famous is the mortician having sex with your corpse...

Well, regardless, Mr. Books is played by Marion Robert Morrison, better known to the public as one 'John Wayne.' A man similarly diagnosed with cancer, and undoubtedly no stranger to the hordes of ragpickers primed to take away one last piece of the legend for themselves. But it's not an entirely morbid universe that Don Siegel (DIRTY HARRY, THE BEGUILED, THE KILLERS) creates here.

As a kindly widow and her naive son (Lauren Bacall and Ron Howard) have excellent chemistry with Wayne and greatly aid the film in building a real emotional framework. Jimmy Stewart appears in a near-cameo role (which provides a great A MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE reference), and is, as always, sweetly captivating, but here he appears so feeble and hard-of-hearing that it's vaguely distressing to watch (which I suppose helps the film's aims).

Like so many Westerns, it all ends on a gunfight, but the stakes are so high and the reality so heightened, that the final scenes (and shots) truly resonate long after the film has ended.
A great last act and a fitting swansong for The Duke. Five stars.

-Sean Gill