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: 48 HRS. (1982, Walter Hill)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 96 minutes.
Tag-line: "When a tough cop has a cool convict as a partner and 48 hrs to catch a killer, a lot of funny things can happen in . . . 48 HRS."
Notable Cast or Crew: Nick Nolte, Eddie Murphy, James Remar (QUIET COOL, THE WARRIORS), Brion James (BLADE RUNNER, RED HEAT), Peter Jason (THEY LIVE, JOHNNY HANDSOME), Chris Mulkey (QUIET COOL, TWIN PEAKS), Annette O' Toole (CAT PEOPLE, STEPHEN KING'S IT), David Patrick Kelly (THE WARRIORS, TWIN PEAKS, COMMANDO), Frank McRae (RED DAWN, LOCK UP), Ola Ray (Female lead in the THRILLER music video), Marcelino Sánchez (THE WARRIORS, HILL STREET BLUES).
Best one-liner: "Who GIVES a goddamn what YOU like? You're just a crook on a weekend pass! You're not even a goddamn NAME anymore! You're just a spearchucker with a number stencilled on the back of his prison fatigues! And I'm through fuckin' around. You tell me the truth or you're gonna get the living shit beat outta you." (said by Nick Nolte)

Often cited as as the first of the buddy cop films– a label which I find contentious, given that films like BUSTING and FREEBIE AND THE BEAN were being released almost a decade earlier– 48 HRS. is nonetheless a fine entry into the genre. It began life as an idea from producer Lawrence Gordon (PREDATOR, DIE HARD), who wanted to make a film which involved a time limit (48 hours), a kidnapping, and a cop temporarily springing a convict to aid in the investigation. The concept underwent several iterations with additions made by Roger Spottiswoode (TURNER & HOOCH), Larry Gross (STREETS OF FIRE, TRUE CRIME), Steven E. de Souza (DIE HARD, COMMANDO, HUDSON HAWK), and Walter Hill himself. The end result is a little STRAY DOG here, a little COOL HAND LUKE there, and a proper sprinkling of THE FRENCH CONNECTION and DIRTY HARRY. Initial casting would have placed Clint Eastwood and Richard Pryor in the lead roles, which I'm guessing could have made this film something like BLUE COLLAR meets EVERY WHICH WAY BUT LOOSE, and I can't decide whether or not that would be brilliant or a train wreck. But the cast which Judith Holstra (who also cast such great ensemble pieces as EXTREME PREJUDICE and RENT-A-COP) finally put together is one of the best in 80's action cinema: Nick Nolte, Eddie Murphy, James Remar, Brion James, Sonny Landham, Frank McRae, Peter Jason, and David Patrick Kelly, to name a few.

Now the plot's fairly by-the-numbers, the action scenes and chase setpieces are far from being the best in Hill's filmography, and Brion James spends the movie stuck behind a desk

Brion James a good guy behind a desk- really?!

-so why does 48 HRS. still stand apart from the pack? Well, allow me to try and explain:

#1. James Remar is fucking insane.

To play our villain, the recently escaped jailbird Albert Ganz, James Remar deprived himself of sleep to nail that crazy-eyed, paranoid, 'walking dead' look. And by God does he succeed.


Whether watching cartoons, jostling innocents, wandering around anxiously in a tank top, or gunning down cops as his mouth contorts in all of its gap-toothed-gaping-maw glory– Remar is spooky-good.

Also, he wears a crucifix earring:

And I'm pretty sure he had a real piercing- see also: HOMEBODIES.


#2. 'Non compos mentis' is Latin for Sonny Landham.

He's been a porn star, a Kentucky politician, a proponent of genocide against Arabs, and is so goddamned nuts that he needed a bodyguard on the set of PREDATOR to protect Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jesse Ventura, and Carl Weathers... from HIM. Look at him cackling with that hunting knife. Is that acting? I'm not sure we can say for sure. But in the context of 48 HRS., as James Remar's number two, this hate-mongering psychopath is just what the doctor ordered. Also, his character is named Billy– is he the same character from PREDATOR, but in an alternate universe?

#3. Which brings me to... David Patrick Kelly... as Luther?!

He's come a long way since "War-ree-yoors...COME OUT AND PLAY-YEE-YAY!," but I guess he survived and was reborn as a cheap punk under the thumb of Ajax who apparently made it to the west coast as well. Preposterous WARRIORS conjecture aside: David Patrick Kelly really dives into the role and it fits quite well into his rogue's gallery of diminutive sleazes that he's played over the years.

And as a side note, I really need to pick up his album one of these days.


#4. Nick Nolte clobbering the shit out of David Patrick Kelly, and possibly for real.



You get the feeling that DPK is a real trouper and was probably injured for real what with the amount of slamming into pavement and car doors and all-around manhandling and neck-twisting that occurs within this scene. (But I'm sure that he was so committed that he didn't even complain.)

#5. Nick Nolte always wakes up with a hangover even when he hasn't had a drop to drink. Except for those 40 beers and a bottle of vermouth and oh dear God how did it come to that.


#6. James Horner's score. Horner (COMMANDO, ALIENS, WILLOW, AVATAR, THE NEW WORLD, TITANIC) has done his fair share of big budget actioners, and he certainly doesn't disappoint. But this leads me to an anecdote. Lately- and I'm not too proud to admit this– I've been doing a fair amount of listening to the COMMANDO (1985) soundtrack. It's kind of the superlative action soundtrack. Heavy brass, oppressive reverb-heavy kettle drums, nasty synthesized zithers, and some tropical flutes and steel drums for that Latin American flavor. On top of all this is a wailin' sax worthy of John Lurie which interjects breezy, squawkin' grooves with some amount of frequency. There's even some sentimental strings in there, too (for Alyssa Milano's character- I think her name was "Chenny"). Annyway, the point of my story is that every element that makes up the COMMANDO soundtrack makes sense- Latin American flourishes, a tropical vibe, an underscoring of father/daughter schmaltz. Now it had been some time since I had seen 48 HRS., so you can imagine my surprise to find that it basically has the exact same soundtrack as COMMANDO, give or take a few transpositions and subtle melodic shifts! I'll bet he thought no one would notice his self-plagiarization- but at least it makes thematic sense in the revisit. A fine action soundtrack (on both occasions).

#7. Ric Waite's hazy cinematography.


Ric Waite (RED DAWN, COBRA, OUT FOR JUSTICE) generally injects just the proper amount of creative lighting effects to make his images pop without overwhelming the bare-knuckled, no-frills stories they usually accompany. He knows the genres and directors that he works with well (from Milius to Hill to Flynn to Cosmatos), and he knows he ain't workin' with Bertolucci, Antonioni, or Ken Russell. His work on 48 HRS. can be described as 'evocatively smoggy.' You feel the grime and the haze and the heat of California as washed-out daytime earth tones are replaced at night by neon and twirling police flashers. It's a vivid imagining, and you really feel the stifling sense of what it must be to exist beneath the sweaty, grubby belly of the Golden State. Hollywood, of course has a rich history of depicting this sort of thing, and it can be seen in everything from John A. Alonzo's work on CHINATOWN (1974) to Robby Müller's on TO LIVE AND DIE IN L.A. (1985) and beyond.

#8. The delightfully brutish way with which Nolte pronounces the word "bullshit." It's like it takes on a life of its own.

"BULLLLLSHIT."

See also: Nolte's exclamation "My ass bleeds for ya!" and his assertion "You been dickin' me around since we started this turd hunt."

#9. A bit part by Chris Mulkey (Hank Jennings on TWIN PEAKS) as a patrolman.

I wonder if he and Remar became buddies, because he shows up again in QUIET COOL.

#10. Eddie Murphy's notorious starmaking scene in the redneck bar.

It's hyped up to no end, but it's still a great scene. And it's refreshing to see the raw talent of Murphy, years before he became intoxicated by his own self-importance. He tosses off lines like "Sit your country ass down, man!" with aplomb, and we suspend our disbelief that Murphy could singlehandedly rough up an entire bar of brawny (presumably racist) yokels because he commands– no, demands the viewer's attention, so much so, that you exist purely in the moment with him. You're caught up in the sheer masterpiece of bullshit that his character is constructing, and it's a joy to watch.

(And watch for John Carpenter-favorite Peter Jason as the back-talkin' hayseed bartender.)

Four stars.

-Sean Gill

Junta Juleil's Summer '10 Movie Series
1. HELL IN THE PACIFIC (1968, John Boorman)
2. KUFFS (1992, Bruce A. Evans)
3. THE OUTFIT (1973, John Flynn)

4. FOR Y'UR HEIGHT ONLY (1981, Eddie Nicart)

5. A*P*E (1976, Paul Leder)

6. BLIND FURY (1989, Philip Noyce)
7. HIS KIND OF WOMAN (1951, John Farrow)
8. HIGH SCHOOL U.S.A. (1983, Rod Amateau)
9. DR. JEKYLL AND MS. HYDE (1995, David Price)
10. MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL (1997, Clint Eastwood)
11. 1990: BRONX WARRIORS (1982, Enzo G. Castellari)
12. FALLING DOWN (1993, Joel Schumacher)
13. TOURIST TRAP (1979, David Schmoeller)
14. THE THREE MUSKETEERS (1973, Richard Lester)
15. BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA (1986, John Carpenter)
16. TOP GUN (1986, Tony Scott)
17. 48 HRS. (1982, Walter Hill)
18. ...

Film Review: POLTERGEIST (1982, Tobe Hooper & Steven Spielberg)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 114 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Craig T. Nelson (ACTION JACKSON, COACH), Heather O'Rourke, JoBeth Williams (THE DOGS OF WAR, STOP OR MY MOM WILL SHOOT), Beatrice Straight (won an Oscar for NETWORK), James Karen (RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD, MULHOLLAND DR., THE WILLIES), Sonny Landham (SOUTHERN COMFORT, PREDATOR, FLESHBURN), Zelda Rubinstein (TEEN WITCH). Music by Jerry Goldsmith. Written and produced by Steven Spielberg. Additional writers: Michael Grais and Mark Victor (DEATH HUNT, COOL WORLD, POLTERGEIST II).
Tag-line: "They're here."
Best one-liner: "Y'all mind hanging back? You're jamming my frequency."

I'm not here to argue about who actually did the bulk of the direction on this film (do a comparison with Hooper's Golan-Globus follow-up, LIFEFORCE, if you want to see what I think), but I think we can all agree that Spielberg was at the top of his game when he was peddling awesome, playfully morbid, PG-rated kiddie horror (from GREMLINS to TEMPLE OF DOOM). (See my TEMPLE OF DOOM review for a more in-depth discussion on the topic.) Largely inspired by the seminal TWILIGHT ZONE episode "Little Girl Lost," Spielberg proceeds to raise the stakes (and the steaks!) to the most ludicrously entertaining, technically innovative (the pre-CGI ingenuity of matte paintings, trick photography, and miniatures) point of spectral mayhem possible- ending up with basically THE definitive 'haunted house' film. Most horror films have 'that one scene' that they're remembered for. POLTERGEIST is a goddamned smorgasbord of ghostly delights: the clown, the tree, the chairs, the TV, the flesh-rippin', the pool... take your pick! The details are as exquisite as the main setpieces: a wind-up robot cackles in perverse amusement; a record plays itself in mid-air, a schoolboy's compass is the needle:

or a feathery skeleton-beast which could be 'THE monster' in any other movie, but which seems almost like a background detail in the no-holds-barred, chaotic finale:


The Freeling family is believable, likable, and engaging.

The scene of JoBeth Williams casually smoking pot (something that would never happen in a film today, unless it was being played for laffs) and Craig T. Nelson reading his Reagan book

is the perfect introduction to both their playful, private sphere and their stern, public façade. The reins of the nation were now ostensibly in the hands of meticulously contrived spokesmodel- the rest of the country had better maintain appearances, too. Forget the poltergeists for a minute, people– "It's morning in America again." Note the secrecy and embarrassment with which the family covers up its "problems at home." They should be feeling shame. They are no longer model residents of Cuesta Verde. It's one of Spielberg's more astute observations on the American family unit (Hooper's influence? Remember "The saw is family?"), and a certain, rare, non-gag-worthy morality emerges. When Carol Anne's bird "Tweety" dies, the bird is afforded a certain childlike dignity in its cigar-box burial. Of course, later, when James Karen's corporate douche reveals ("Oh, don't worry about it. After all, it's not ancient tribal burial ground. It's just... people. Besides, we have done it before.") his stance, we begin to see the general shift in basic human decency which that new morning in America was trying to obfuscate, I suppose.


Regardless, Tweety's funeral is crosscut with a group of hot-blooded men cheering on a football game.


Perhaps the spirits observed the value the living placed on this glowing electronic altar and for that reason chose to use it as a point of contact? Ha!

The supporting roles are solid, as well- Beatrice Straight's "if Joan Crawford were nice" grandmotherly expert, Sonny Landham's (!) bit part as a lascivious construction worker, Zelda Rubinstein's eerily wacky medium:

and James Karen's affably creepy land developer (who exudes eventual brow-furrowing 'what have I done?!' intensity):


James Karen: one of genre cinema's great unsung heroes.

Five stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: FLESHBURN (1984, George Gage)

Stars: 1 of 5.
Running Time: 90 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Sonny Landham, Karen Carlson.
Tag-line: " A new kind of revenge!"
Best one-liner: [while holding rabbits] "Let's go back to camp and skin these babies, and pretty soon we'll have some shoes!"
Based on the Novel: "Fear in a Handful of Dust."

There are two types of bad 80's movies: those that had no choice but to be bad from the start, like STAR CRYSTAL; and those that should have been awesome, like FLESHBURN. And there is no more heinous an affront than a bad movie that should have been awesome. The pitch: wild-eyed Native American 80's Action supporting player Sonny Landham (48 HRS., ACTION JACKSON, SOUTHERN COMFORT, etc.) gets to star as a Vietnam Vet accused of witchcraft and confined to a mental institution, he breaks out and seeks revenge. I wasn't deluded enough to expect a ROLLING THUNDER, but damn, I expected at least an EYE OF THE TIGER or a BILLY JACK. The cover depicts a shirtless Landham holding a gun in the desert as his Rambo bandana flutters in the wind.

Sonny is a former adult film star, he tried to run for governor of Kentucky, and he had a bodyguard on the set of PREDATOR––not for his own protection, but to protect others from him. Maybe some rednecks will say some racial slurs, Sonny will simmer, and then rightful asses will be kicked. Maybe some flesh will even be burned. This should be effin' amazing. Instead, it's an abominable failure with completely unlikable characters. It's not even an action movie. Sonny kidnaps some doctors who testified against him (and loses our sympathy in the process), and makes them fend for themselves in the desert.

This is the most intense action sequence in the film and also the reason why it sometimes is categorized under the subgenre 'male bondage' (seriously). Note that no flesh has been burned, merely some fake blood has been drizzled haphazardly.

That's the movie. It's about the doctors fending in the desert. Occasionally we cut back to Sonny on the hillside, playing with falcons, Native American memorabilia, or maracas. This movie is highly self-important, also, and thus offensive. Science vs. faith has never been handled so hamfistedly. There's an exceptionally weak resolution, and the visuals are despicably ugly. Shrubs obscure the actors' faces most of the time. What an energy drainer.