Film Review: THE STUNT MAN (1980, Richard Rush)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 131 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Peter O'Toole, Steve Railsback (LIFEFORCE, HELTER SKELTER, SAVE ME), Barbara Hershey (THE RIGHT STUFF, THE NATURAL), Sharon Farrell (CAN'T BUY ME LOVE, IT'S ALIVE), Alex Rocco (Moe Greene in THE GODFATHER, FREEBIE AND THE BEAN). Music by Dominic Frontiere (HANG 'EM HIGH, THE OUTER LIMITS). Cinematography by Mario Tosi (CARRIE, RESURRECTION). Stunts coordinated by Gray Johnson (ZAPPED!, THE BEASTMASTER). Additional stunts by myriad stuntmen, including Dick Warlock (THE THING, ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA, CHRISTINE, MR. MAJESTYK, THE ABYSS).
Tag-line: "If God could do the things that we can do, he'd be a happy man . . ."
Best one-liner: "Besides, I've fallen madly in love with the dark side of your nature." (Smarmily intoned by Peter O'Toole.)

THE STUNT MAN. Hot damn- what a specimen! One of the great films of the 1980s. It's a wild-pinball game of a movie, full of brilliant, inventive visual pops and gags that zig and zag and zing throughout, around, and across the movie with a demented, electric exuberance. As the film played out, I found myself brimming with primitive excitement: for the first time in a long time, I felt as if I was watching something alive, insane, full of pulsating energy– something NEW. (And naturally, the director, Richard Rush, has only directed one fiction film in the thirty-one years since– damn you, Hollywood, for rewarding the uninspired and punishing the innovative!)
Right off the bat, Rush lets us know exactly what kind of a mad, irreverent journey he's about to lead us on: a dog licks its own balls.

This sets off a chain-reaction of events which involves helicopters, electricians, a diner, an errant apple-core, an actual game of pinball, an arrest, an escape, and, in general terms, the subsequent events of the film. But allow me to take a step back for a moment: a movie that begins with a dog licking its own balls was nominated for two Oscars, and even more surprisingly– really deserved them. Obviously, this is a candidate for the Junta Juleil Hall-O-Fame.

Now I won't say too much about the plot of the film, but it involves a fugitive drifter (played by a rugged, fuzzy Steve Railsback, whose performance here occasionally has the feel of a young Tommy Lee Jones)

Railsback: Here, more HELTER SKELTER than LIFEFORCE.

who accidentally brings about the death of a stunt man as a war movie is being shot in a small town by a psychotic director (Peter O'Toole, in one of his finest hours). In return for not turning him in to the police, O'Toole requires the somewhat naive Railsback (who's excited to risk his life for $600 a go) to impersonate the deceased stunt man– dangerous, show-stopping feats and all. Simultaneously, Railsback builds a burgeoning romance with co-star Barbara Hershey as events spiral continuously and exponentially out of control. It's a film of döppelgangers and secret sharers, of lofty gods and mere mortals; of men who fight wars, men who fight windmills, and men who fight to make movies. Along the way, it toys with the many disconnects between reality and illusion in film, and more cleverly than any other movie I can think of– latex is peeled off, body parts retrieved, rugs pulled out from beneath us, and you're eternally left guessing as to whether the punch-line will take place in the real world or in the film-within-a-film.

Some of my favorite moments include a gaggle of gum-chewing tourists watching the brutalities of war being recorded on 35mm and applauding like they're at the State Fair, lens flares used as bizarre transitions, Steve Railsback doing the Charleston on the wing of an airborne biplane,

an extraordinarily visceral depiction of drowning, a shitload of mind-blowing stunts,


Dominic Frontiere's infectious Euro-style score, and, in general, Mario Tosi's breathtaking cinematography.


O'Toole, as always, deserves special mention– he floats about on a crane like an omnipresent cine-deity,

coming down from Olympus only to manipulate his insignificant cast, to blow smoke rings, and to drip sugar off of a knife while exuding utter disinterest.

Replace that bowl of sugar with a bowl of booze, and O'Toole might be able to muster some enthusiasm.

When he first appears in earnest, he embodies absolute, self-possessed lunacy without even opening his mouth.

When he does, it's usually to announce something incredible like "I'LL KILL THEM, AND THEN I'LL EAT THEM!" or bellowing orders that "NO CAMERA SHALL JAM, AND NO CLOUD SHALL PASS BEFORE THE SUN!"

Is O'Toole three sheets to the wind in this freeze frame? I'll leave that to the film historians to decide.

It's got the zaniness of HOOPER, the energy of Ken Russell, the groundbreaking creativity of films from the likes of Welles or Buñuel, and a shocking amount of class– not to mention that it's from the director of FREEBIE AND THE BEAN (which had a rumored feud between director Rush and actor Alan Arkin pertaining to... the performing of dangerous stunts). In short, it's the kind of movie that I really think you should see. Five stars.

-Sean Gill

Side note: In 2001, Richard Rush made only the second film he's made in the last thirty-one years: a documentary on THE STUNT MAN called THE SINISTER SAGA OF MAKING THE STUNT MAN, which I'll have to check out forthwith.

Film Review: BLIND FURY (1989, Philip Noyce)

Stars: 4 of 5.

Running Time: 86 minutes.

Tag-line: "He may be blind, but he don't need no dog."

Notable Cast or Crew: Rutger Hauer, Terry O'Quinn (Locke on LOST, THE STEPFATHER, SILVER BULLET), Nick Cassavetes (son of John, FACE/OFF, QUIET COOL), Meg Foster (THEY LIVE, LEVIATHAN, STEPFATHER II: MAKE ROOM FOR DADDY), Noble Willingham (THE LAST PICTURE SHOW, THE HUDSUCKER PROXY), Randall 'Tex' Cobb (former heavyweight, RAISING ARIZONA, DIGGSTOWN, the WALKER TEXAS RANGER finale episode), Rick Overton (Franjean the Brownie in WILLOW, GROUNDHOG DAY), Sho Kosugi (REVENGE OF THE NINJA, ENTER THE NINJA, NINE DEATHS OF THE NINJA).

Best one-liner: "I also do circumcision."

Despite the fact that Japan's ZATOICHI series had persisted for 26 films and 112 television episodes, it took seven years of shopping the script to American studios in order to make this re-imagining actually happen. And the straw that broke Tri-Star's back? "He may be blind, but he don't need no dog." Yes, it was the profound utterance of that sheer Miltonian poetry which secured the funding: not a script, not Rutger Hauer, not Terry O'Quinn (or should I say 'Terrance O'Quinn,' as the credits do?). At least that's how the story goes. Maybe that's a good starting-off point: "He may be blind, but he don't need no dog." I guess I'm okay with that. Written by Charles Robert Carner (GYMKATA) and directed by Philip Noyce (PATRIOT GAMES, CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER), this movie is pretty much exactly what you'd expect. Closest in structure to the 17th Japanese film, ZATOICHI CHALLENGED, BLIND FURY is nonstop rip-roaring-Rutger Hauer-blind swordsman action.

He lost his vision on the battlefied in 'Nam. Bloodied and abandoned, he stumbled into a village where they healed and trained him for the next several years in the Vietnamese (?!) art of blind swordsmanship.

(All of this plot is finely condensed into the opening five minutes, though we do receive some additional 'Nam flashbacks as the story proceeds.) Cutting to the present-day, Rutger is wandering around with his walking stick, looking like a real goofball. Headphones, trench coat, backpack, sunglasses, and a silly red ball cap. It's quite an ensemble.

His stick strikes an alligator on the side of the road. "Nice doggy," says Hauer as he steps across the reptile and he continues on, apparently oblivious to his brush with death.

As events later in the film will later confirm, Hauer's character, Nick Parker, is so finely attuned to his surroundings that, even without sight, he can gauge how many men are in a room, envision what sorts of weapons they might have, predict a projectile's trajectory, and then kick/kill their asses with the blade hidden in his cane. This leads me to believe that of course Hauer knew that he was stepping over an alligator, and only said "Nice doggy" for his own personal amusement (and for the gator's as well?). We get a sense of Hauer in action as soon as he steps into a ramshackle Floridian bar and grill.

A local punk pulls the old "switch the blind man's mild sauce with the hot sauce" routine, and he and his buddies soon find themselves curled up in the corner, grasping their balls in pain, and wishing they'd never fiddled with cinema's most dangerous Dutchman.

A plot soon emerges: Vegas mobster-types dangle Terry O'Quinn from a great precipice (an image which may be of interest to LOST fans.)

Terry O'Quinn (as Frank Devereaux) incurred a vast gambling debt at a crooked casino, and the local criminal empire would like Devereaux, who happens to be a chemist, to basically cook up an obscenely large batch of crystal meth for them, presumably to sell on playgrounds or convents or wherever the most evil place to peddle illegal drugs happens to be. Well, right at this moment, Hauer- his old war buddy– happens to be visiting his Florida home. O'Quinn is in Vegas being tortured by mobsters at the moment, but since Hauer is a big fan of the drop-by, he decides to have some tea with his old lady and his kid. O'Quinn's wife here is played by Meg Foster (a.k.a. The Evil Chick from THEY LIVE), and oddly this isn't the first time they've played spouses (also see: STEPFATHER II: MAKE ROOM FOR DADDY).

She's also in possession of some of the most eerily striking eyes in film history. Maybe she shoulda played the blind person. Tragedy strikes in the form of Randall 'Tex' Cobb (as the redunkulous villain, 'Slag'), and despite Hauer's best limb-slashing efforts, he's unable to completely avert calamity.

Now Hauer is on the road with O'Quinn's kid, and the side-splitting antics– set to what sounds a lot like the score from DRIVING MISS DAISY– begin to ensue. As always, Hauer really delves deeply into the role. There's a hell of a lot of lip-pursing and brow-raising and eye-squinting, but instead of coming across as over-the-top, it's simply a means for Hauer to externalize our key suspension of disbelief– that a blind man can achieve near-supernatural feats of swordplay.

You feel the weight of it, too. While this film is certainly no stranger to slapstick (a statue gets Venus de Milo'd, etc., etc.), occasionally the script decides its time for a stock 'emotional scene.' Frequently Hauer and O'Quinn elevate these scenes to levels of truthful artistry which I can't imagine the makers actually intended (more on that in a bit).

Anyway, Hauer is en route to Vegas with the kid. They're pursued by mobsters who want to kidnap the child in order to more easily coerce O'Quinn into freebasing those mountains of crystal meth I was talking about earlier. Their dynamic is fun to watch, and will make you yearn for a less politically correct era of filmmaking. The kid is a dick. Always ribbing Hauer, trying to steal his seat on the bus, poking fun at him for being blind. But, as many a great Golan-Globus film has shown us, there's a great catharsis to be had in the depiction of a bratty kid getting his comeuppance. Just take this scene, for instance:

It's fantastic! Hauer and the kid facing off through a series of dangerous pranks tempered by vaguely offensive schadenfreude. Note the gleeful enthusiasm with which Rutger relishes the idea of the kid perhaps breaking his kneecap, the petulant gusto with which the kid tries to asphyxiate Hauer, the reversals of derisive laughter, and the natural joy we feel as an audience when Rutger regurgitates the rock and thwacks the kid on the temple.

Is it wrong to feel this way? No! It's in the service of a growing paternal bond between Hauer and the kid. How can that be wrong? It's beautiful! In fact, how dare you question their heartwarming relationship!

I will now pontificate on some brutal low blows of note.

Yeah, there are certainly quite a few of them in this flick. And most notably: an excruciating, skewering, sword-delivered stab to the nuts. I call it- the "Shish Ke-Lowblow."

YAHHHHHHH

More villains join the fray. Nick Cassavetes and Rick Overton, in a nod to Peckinpah, play Lyle and Tector Pike, two nefarious, bickering brothers who are essentially couple of Keystone Kowboys. "I'm gonna put that blind man in a wheelchair!" They kind of feel like they should be villains in a WAYNE'S WORLD movie, but since they're already here, let's just go with it.

Rutger Hauer- not a fan of THE NOTEBOOK.

Along the way, there's the best cornfield chase since NORTH BY NORTHWEST (or at least since PRIME CUT), a nettlesome wasp is sliced in two, a vexing eyebrow gets the cane sword treatment, and Rutger gets to blind-drive a van the wrong way down a one-way street ("Billy, navigate!").

Note the juxtaposition of Rutger's glee and the screaming passenger's terror.

Angered by the lack of progress by his dunderheaded minions who "can't even catch a blind man and a kid," the head of the criminal empire (played by Noble Willingham) demands Bruce Lee. "Bruce Lee is dead!," his flunky retorts. "Then get me his brother!" Suddenly, the one and only SHO KOSUGI shows up in his employ!

His origin is never adequately explained, so, as an audience, you're kind of wondering if he's actually supposed to be Bruce Lee's brother. Hauer recognizing him as Japanese after touching his eyes (yikes) would seem to debunk this idea, but this is BLIND FURY, so it's still hard to say.

Oh, didn't I promise to talk more about some real emotional stakes here in BLIND FURY? Well, here goes. The film begins to flesh out some back story for Hauer and O'Quinn.

They were best buds back in Da Nang, but a case of apparent heat-of-the-moment cowardice on O'Quinn's part may or may not have something to do with Rutger's sightlessness.

There. Now with that baggage, rethink Rutger's drop-by. Not having seen each other since the incident in question, one could imagine that their reunion would be a minefield of pain, regret, and introspection. But can you imagine that reunion in the context of a movie which has more in common with ENTER THE NINJA than THE DEER HUNTER? Well, I would say- never underestimate the indescribable pathos of Terry O'Quinn or the emotional intimacy of Rutger Hauer.

These freeze frames don't exactly do it justice, but you probably have an inkling of the virtuosity on display.

Anyway, it ends with a sword fight over a hot tub.

I feel like I say this a lot, but – shades of REVENGE OF THE NINJA? I mean, that movie packs in more jacuzzis per minute than any comparable martial arts film. Did Sho ask for the hot tub's inclusion, or was Noyce merely tipping his hat to Golan-Globus?

Anyway, that really sums it all up. Utter absurdity and poignant, impassioned characterizations collide. See it all in BLIND FURY.

-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. ...

Film Review: ALAMO BAY (1985, Louis Malle)

Stars: 3.9 of 5. Running Time: 98 minutes. Notable Cast or Crew: Ed Harris, Amy Madigan (NOWHERE TO HIDE, THE PRINCE OF PENNSYLVANIA), Ho Nguyen (FINAL VERDICT), Donald Moffat (THE THING, TALES OF THE CITY), Caroline Williams (TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE 2, THE STEPFATHER 2), Music by Ry Cooder. Written by Alice Arlen (SILKWOOD, THE WEIGHT OF WATER). Tag-line: "Alamo Bay. A place where everyone risked everything for a piece of the American Dream." Best one-liner: "Communist cunt!" Wow. Said by Harris to Madigan. 

 

More in the vein of his working-class documentaries than his arthouse fare, Louis Malle's ALAMO BAY was unjustly maligned by critics at the time of its release and has basically languished in obscurity ever since. I'm not suggesting that Malle is one of the most perceptive commentators on race in America, or that this film isn't at times a little ham-fisted in its approach (i.e., climactic shootouts), but there's a lot to like here. Ed Harris plays a racist Nam vet who wears confederate flag hats, works on a boat named the "American Dream Girl," and has the beard of a sub commander.

  

Ed is one of my favorite actors, and I was fully expecting to see glimpses of his now-classic 'Ed Harris as a crazed madman' role. Instead, Ed delves deeply and delivers a performance where he doesn't quite seem like himself at all- he genuinely transforms into a terrifying, real-McCoy redneck.  

He and a bunch of other white guys are fairly rankled that a bunch of Vietnamese immigrants are shrimping in their waters. At first, they have valid concerns- the newcomers engage in overfishing and ignore just about every rule and regulation. Of course, the native Texans haven't got a moral leg to stand on as soon as they make it 100% racial, enlist the aid of the KKK (via right-wing grassroots organizing), and start wavin' the guns around.  

Donald Moffat plays a grizzled, well-meaning, cigar-chomping entrepreneur who runs the only fishery that'll employ (or is that exploit?) the Vietnamese.

   

Moffat weighs some shrimp. 

Amy Madigan plays Moffat's resolute daughter and Ed's old flame (by the way, Ed and Amy are real-life husband and wife, and there's genuine, scary chemistry),  

a delicate predicament which could explode into violence at any moment, given the community's volatility.

   

Ed dances for the first time since CREEPSHOW. 

Ho Nguyen plays a newly-arrived immigrant whose callow enthusiasm belies his unwavering resolve; he's not about to let a bunch of douches with guns rule his life- he's already lived that nightmare before.

   

Ho, like the rest of us, is transfixed by the natural electromagnetic energy that flows between Madigan and Harris. 

Malle imparts his tale with quotidian realism: failing to obtain a loan at the bank, striking nets and sorting shrimp at sea, knockin' back a few Lone Stars at the bar... it's extremely vivid, and you can almost feel the briny sting of the seawater or smell that miasma of oily, piscine, sweaty deck odors mixed with the remnants of stale cigarettes.  

And in the world of ALAMO BAY, everyone has a got a beer in their hand at all times. Driving? Have a beer. Working? Have two. Going to church? You're gonna need a bunch of beers. You'd almost think this was a dive bar-topia if it wasn't for all the hate crimes. Ry Cooder's score is decent, but phoned in to the max– it's nearly an exact retread of his work on PARIS, TEXAS. He was generally making a much greater effort on the Walter Hill films of the day. Although, who knows? Maybe Malle told him to senselessly plagiarize himself. Also of note is a bit part by native Texan Caroline Williams (Stretch from TEXAS CHAINSAW 2, Lady in Truck from THE LEGEND OF BILLIE JEAN, etc.) as a xenophobic bar waitress.

   

Caroline Williams serves some ice cold Lone Stars to some grassroots KKKers. Yeesh. Note the light-up Schlitz sign. 

In all, an atmospheric social drama which certainly deserves to be seen. Nearly four stars.

Film Review: MEN AT WORK (1990, Emilio Estevez)

Stars: 3 of 5.
Running Time: 98 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Emilio Estevez, Charlie Sheen, Keith David (THEY LIVE, THE THING), Sy Richardson (STRAIGHT TO HELL, REPO MAN), Dean Cameron (SUMMER SCHOOL, HIGHBALL, ROCKULA), John Getz (THE FLY), Leslie Hope (TALK RADIO, BRUISER, 24). Score by Stewart Copeland (DEAD LIKE ME, WALL STREET, former drummer of The Police).
Tag-line: "Two garbagemen who know when something smells funny!"
Best one-liner: "There are several sacred things in this world that you don't ever mess with. One of them happens to be another man's fries. Now, you remember that, and you will live a long and healthy life." or "Looks like somebody threw away a perfectly good white boy!"

Written and directed by American auteur Emilio Estevez (WISDOM, RATED X), we're afforded a glimpse of his inner workings, his deepest fears, his secret longings. What lies behind those furtive eyes and Brat Pack-y façade?

What does the soul of Emilio Estevez look like? Well, after seeing MEN AT WORK, I have to say that Estevez's soul looks a whole lot like WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S with a healthy sprinkling of the Looney Tunes. The fourth of seven collaborations between Estevez and his brother Charlie Sheen, this film is about as unoriginal as they come.

It even steals its best one-liner from BETTER OFF DEAD. Let me break down the vital statistics: Number of men shot in the buttocks with a BB gun: 2. Number of trash can lid high-fives: 3.

Number of pranks involving exploding feces: 2. I lost track of the number of stylin' stud earrings, mini-ponytails, and Richard Nixon references.

Note stylin' stud earring.

Estevez and Sheen have raided elements from their previous films [a score by Police drummer Stewart Copeland (WALL STREET), performances by Sy Richardson (REPO MAN) and Keith David (PLATOON), a loving presentation of trucks (MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE), etc.], so it’s enjoyable enough. In fact, I’d say that 99% of MEN AT WORK’s success belongs to Keith David. While Estevez and Sheen are preening for the camera, making sure that they’re the prettiest garbagemen in filmdom, Keith David strolls in- natural, intense, and committed:

A lot of people erroneously believe that Keith David only plays 'pissed-off' roles. Well, in reality, Keith David only plays REALLY pissed-off roles.

He takes the one-dimensional ‘Nam vet who hates cops,’ and gives it depth, clarity, and character. At one point, Keith turns to the camera, breaks the fourth wall, and announces:

“I HATE RENT-A-COPS, TOO!” Amen.

While Emilio’s film was not exactly a box-office smash, one fan liked it so much, she MARRIED him. A little lady by the name of…Paula Abdul.

But that’s another story, for another time.

Three stars- and a hearty, insincere golf clap- for the apparent inventors of the golf clap. I wonder how they'd react today, knowing that their own acrimonious comedy-weapon has been turned against them?




-Sean Gill