Nicholas Ray Blogathon: Rebel Without a Cause

BLOGGER'S NOTE: This post is part of the Nicholas Ray Blogathon run by Tony Dayoub over at Cinema Viewfinder.

"What can you do when you have to be a man?"

- Jim Stark

When Nicholas Ray's Rebel Without a Cause was first released in 1955, critics read the film as a statement on how the confused, misunderstood youth of the day viewed society. The film was labeled a juvenile delinquent picture with its star, James Dean, becoming a spokesman for disaffected youth everywhere. Rebel Without a Cause can also be read on a more oblique level. The film presents a classic Oedipal narrative in the form of Jim Stark's dysfunctional family where the mother (Ann Doran) is seen as overpowering presence who dominates all the males, in particular the father (Jim Backus). Jim (James Dean) throughout the film searches for an ideal father figure to look to for guidance, to show him what it takes to "be a man" and to understand what constitutes an ideal man.


Early on in the film Ray shows how Jim's family life operates. Pulled in for public drunkenness, he confronts his parents who arrive to bail him out. Jim's mother and grandmother (Virginia Brissac) dominate the conversation with the former questioning everything the father says. Jim is clearly agitated by this "zoo," as he later tells Ray Fremick (Edward Platt), the tolerant police officer, but is unable to do anything because of his father's weak will. Once alone with the Ray, Jim reveals that his family avoids any problems, moving when Jim gets into trouble. As Jim remarks, "they think they can protect me by moving around." Ray gets Jim to open up and admit that his parents are the real source of the problem when he says, "She eats him alive and he takes it." Jim sees his father as a weak man who cannot stand up for himself. As Jim sees it, if his father would only stand up to his mother, "and knock mom cold," and be a man, then he would feel more confident about his family and himself.

Ray constantly stresses the powerful presence of the mother figure throughout this scene by not only showing an actual conversation between all the family members, where she clearly dominates, but even when Jim is removed from them. He spies at them through a peephole in the Fremick's office and sees that his mother is still hounding his father. No matter how hard he tries, Jim cannot escape his mixed up family life. Ray shows that the police officer can still be strong, but also gentle and kind to the young man by having the lawman change his attitude partway through their conversation. The cop seems strict and uncaring at first, but after Jim cools off he is understanding and helpful. Fremick is presented as a stronger, more attractive male role model for Jim to follow than his own father who cowers under the glare of his wife. This scene also verifies Jim's lack of a strong male role model. His father is clearly not Jim's idea of an ideal man and he says as much when he tells Fremick, "I never want to be like him." Jim must somehow fill this void and resolve his situation at home.

Ray presents several tests of masculinity in Rebel Without a Cause that Jim must solve and lead to a solution to his lack of a male role model. One such test is the "chickie run" that Jim has against Buzz Gunderson (Corey Allen). The "chickie run" is clearly a test of honor, a test of manhood that Jim must face, and he looks to his father for help when he asks, "What can you do when you have to be a man?" This line seems almost comical as his father is shown wearing an apron over his suit and carrying a tray of food to his sick wife. Jim's father hardly fits the ideal image of a "man" in his ridiculous state. To further complicate matters, the father cannot answer Jim's question. Instead, he merely babbles on about nothing and Jim flees the house in frustration to face his test without any guidance from anyone. He must rely on his own instincts because his father cannot even give him advice. The apron gives Jim's father a more feminized appearance that confuses Jim even more. Jim must become his own man as he has no one else to show him how.

After the disastrous "chickie run," Jim returns home and tells his parents what happened. Tired and confused, Jim wants desperately to engage his dozing father in a conversation, but is interrupted by his mother. Ray depicts the confusion of Jim's character in this scene by showing the mother's entrance from Jim's point of view. Jim sees his mother coming down the stairs, upside down, the camera moving in counter-clockwise fashion until righted with a 180 degree pan. The mother is clearly intruding on the talk between Jim and his father. Jim becomes trapped by his parents during the course of this "three-way verbal brawl." Once again, the mother eclipses the conversation, blaming Jim for all the moving around they have done. Ray emphasizes the mother's dominate position by placing her on the staircase looking down at Jim and her husband. A low angle shot is also used so that she towers over the two men even more, making them look impotent and insignificant. Jim looks to his father for guidance, to stand up for him, but he is too weak in the face of such overwhelming superiority. Jim explodes in Oedipal rage and begins strangling and in effect, "killing" his own father. His mother intervenes and Jim blindly runs out into the night.

Another test of masculinity that Jim faces in the film is his relationship with Plato (Sal Mineo). From the start of the film it is clear that Plato also lacks a strong father figure. In fact, Plato lacks both a father and a mother with only an African American housekeeper (Marietta Canty) to help him grow up. Throughout the film Plato gazes longingly at Jim with almost homoerotic intensity. Plato's gaze symbolizes his desire for a idealized father figure that first manifests itself in the form of a picture of Alan Ladd in his locker, and which later is transferred to Jim. This transfer takes place at the "chickie run" when Plato talks to Judy (Natalie Wood) about Jim. Plato begins talking about Jim as if he were already his father when he tells Judy that "maybe next Sunday he'll take me fishing." Plato sees Jim as a father he never had and wishes he had, and he says as much to Jim after the "chickie run." Jim rejects this classification and leaves Plato to go back to his empty home. Jim cannot be a surrogate father to Plato when he does not even know how to be a man himself. Ironically, Plato does not see Fremick at the beginning of the film like Judy and Jim, which may account for his death at the end of the film. Plato was not shown the kindness and understanding that Judy and Jim where and this results in his own destruction.

Perhaps the most telling point in the film is when Jim, Judy, and Plato take refuge in an old, abandoned mansion. Ray takes this opportunity to comment on the whole notion of family and an ideal man. Upon arriving at the mansion, the three teenagers take a mock tour of the site with Jim and Judy posing as newlyweds and Plato acting as a tour guide. Everyone hams up their respective roles, presenting a mock parody of the family as they act out their idea of their parents' attitudes towards them. Jim and Judy become Plato's family as in reality he has no family save a housekeeper. When Judy does ask about Plato's family, in particular his father, he replies, "He was a hero in the China Sea." Jim realizes that Plato is lying, that this is only an idealized image of a father he wishes he had. Later, when Jim and Judy are alone, she reveals that Plato was talking about him in the same way, that he wishes Jim was his father. This statement reinforces the belief that Plato views Jim and Judy, particularly Jim, as parental figures, the only people he can look to for direction in his life. Judy also tells Jim her idea of the perfect man as someone who "can be gentle and sweet," but also strong. She could easily be describing Jim who has both a strong, masculine side as shown in the knife fight and the "chickie run," and a gentle, sweet side when he is with her or Plato. Judy could also be describing Fremick, the police officer who is also seen at the beginning of the film to be strong and masculine in dealing with both Judy and Jim while also being understanding and sympathetic to their plights.

At the end of the film Judy and Jim survive, but Plato is gunned down by the police. Jim and Judy's situations are salvageable because they belong to families, as dysfunctional as they may seem, they are complete families with the possibility of resolution. Plato has no family and no way out of his problems and therefore cannot exist in the same world. In consoling Jim, his father says, "you did everything a man could." It is the first time that Jim's father has supported his son and mentioned being a "man." The father not only supports him verbally, but physically as he comforts the sad youth, lifting him to his feet. To reinforce this support he reassures his son, "you can depend on me, trust me ... Stand up and I'll try and stand with you." It is the first step for both of them. They must learn and become men together.

On the surface, Rebel Without a Cause can be read as juvenile delinquent film, but underneath this facade, its director, Nicholas Ray, has made a film about the nuclear family in the 1950’s. Ray presents a family that is not the ideal image as shown in a sitcom like Leave to Beaver, but one that is matriarchal in structure. Jim Stark is a confused youth who looks to his parents, in particular his father, for help, but instead finds more confusion and questions. By film's end, Jim has had to deal with his problems on his own, until they get too big for him to handle alone. Now, he has help in the form of both Judy who loves him and his father who is willing to stand by him no matter what happens. They are now Jim's support group who will teach him how to be a "man," Judy developing the kind, gentle side, while the father developing his strong, masculine side. Plato dies because he has no such support group. He is the "other," neither masculine nor feminine, with no real family, just an artificial one in the form of Jim and Judy. Plato does not conform to the notions of what an ideal man should be and therefore dies as a result. The ideal man in Rebel Without a Cause is presented in the form of Ray Fremick, who is seen as a strong, masculine figure, while being sympathetic and understanding as well. By the resolution of the film, Jim Stark is well on his way to possessing these attributes with the help of Judy and his father.

 

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day

It is extremely difficult to recreate the screwball comedies of the 1930’s and 1940’s. Just ask George Lucas (Radioland Murders) and the Coen brothers (The Hudsucker Proxy), both of whom paid tribute to that era and were met with critical and commercial disdain. Contemporary mainstream audiences are no longer interested in comedies that blend farcical situations with fast-paced, often witty repartee. To paraphrase filmmaker Kevin Smith (whose dialogue often emulates that of screwball comedies), the masses are interested in dick and fart jokes, which explains the popularity of Judd Apatow (The 40-Year-Old Virgin) and his contemporaries. There are very few examples of successful attempts to recreate the screwball comedy of the ‘30s and ‘40s and you’d be hard-pressed to find any that were commercial hits (notable exceptions being Victor/Victoria and Mel Brooks’ remake of To Be or Not To Be).


Perhaps one of the best examples in recent memory is Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (2008), an adaptation of the 1938 novel of the same name by Winifred Watson. The film is a charming romantic comedy but at its heart lies the friendship between two women: a flighty American singer/actress and her English social secretary. Much of the film’s humor is derived from the culture clash between them and the romantic entanglements that the latter attempts to extricate the former from. Despite the presence of popular actress Amy Adams and Academy Award winner Frances McDormand, Miss Pettigrew received generally favorable reviews but failed to connect with mainstream movie-going audiences, performing poorly at the box office. However, this does not reflect the quality of the film only how out of step it is with contemporary attitudes and trends.

Known as “the governess of last resort,” Guinevere Pettigrew (Frances McDormand) is dismissed from her latest job and sent out into the cold, foreboding London streets where she wanders for hours trying to figure out what to do next. These early scenes demonstrate Frances McDormand’s lack of vanity as Pettigrew looks frumpy and disheveled as her character is dressed in drab earth tones while she sports unkempt frizzy hair. While trying unsuccessfully to get another job, Pettigrew overhears about an aspiring American actress in need of a social secretary. Delysia Lafosse (Amy Adams) is, to put it mildly, a handful. Juggling three different lovers and enjoying being young and rich (perhaps a little too much) in London on the eve of World War II, her life is a chaotic mess.

Their first meeting is a whirlwind sequence as Pettigrew attempts to rouse Phil Goldman (Tom Payne), a.k.a. lover #1, from Delysia’s bed before Nick (Mark Strong), a.k.a. lover #2, shows up. This scene establishes the film’s witty banter as Pettigrew tells Delysia about her encounter with Phil: “I fear that I have outraged his sense of propriety,” to which the clueless young woman replies, “Oh no, Phil doesn’t have one of those.” This sequence also demonstrates the excellent comic timing of Adams and McDormand as their characters race around making the apartment look presentable while also getting rid of Phil all before Nick arrives. The two actresses play well of each other with the free-spirited Delysia in sharp contrast to the prim and proper Pettigrew.

The first thing Delysia does is take her to a lingerie fashion show where Pettigrew becomes enamored with lingerie designer Joe Blomfield (Ciaran Hinds) who is involved in a tempestuous relationship with salon owner Edythe Dubarry (Shirley Henderson). The gradually emerging romance between Joe and Pettigrew is the film’s most charming subplot and by the film’s end we want to see further adventures of these two characters. Edythe and Delysia team up to give Pettigrew a complete makeover so that she no longer looks like a dowdy bag lady.

Eventually we meet Michael Pardue (Lee Pace), a poor pianist and lover #3. He and Delysia are also in a cabaret act together but he has grown tired of competing with Phil and Nick for her affections and plans to set sail to New York City on the Queen Mary in the morning with or without her. Delysia must look into her heart and decide which man she wants to be with: Phil, the son of a powerful theater producer, Nick, a mean-spirited nightclub owner, or Michael.

At the time of its release, Amy Adams was criticized for playing yet another energetic, dimwitted character but in this case it is an unfair assessment. While Delysia is no rocket scientist, she isn’t really that dumb, just indecisive and Adams does a nice job of conveying her character’s bundle of conflicted emotions. The young actress is her usual charming, irrepressible self and it’s hard not to root for her. Adams gives us glimpses of Delysia without the energetic façade to reveal a young woman afraid of being who she really is to those that mean the most to her.

Frances McDormand has the more difficult role because it is less showy and so she has to work harder to stand out from the more flamboyant Adams. The veteran actress brings a quiet dignity to Pettigrew as well as worldly experience, which McDormand suggests during the brief, calm interludes when her character imparts some words of wisdom to Delysia. As she briefly demonstrated in Raising Arizona (1987), McDormand has wonderful comedic chops, which she conveys with amusing facial expressions when reacting to something outrageous Adams has said or done.

Mark Strong has the thankless task of playing yet another bad guy. He does it so well, which is why he keeps getting cast in these roles. He serves his purpose as an impediment to Delysia’s happiness. To his credit, Strong refuses to resort to a cartoonish caricature and gives Nick a kind of reptilian charm that is fun to watch. Lee Pace has the dashing romantic leading man shtick down cold but he’s no doorstop and doesn’t make things easy for Delysia. Michael’s ultimatum forces her to make a decision about the men in her life. The obvious chemistry between them makes you root for these two crazy characters to wind up together. It’s also great to see underrated character Ciaran Hinds playing Pettigrew’s suave, potential love interest. Like McDormand, he underplays his role and the scenes he has with her are some of the strongest in the film. They provide a respite from the madcap antics as they play two people bound by societal rules and are yearning to break free of them.

Miss Pettigrew features several lovely moments that resonate, like when Michael and Delysia perform “If I Didn’t Care” (which was an international hit for The Ink Spots at the time) together and the story stops for a moment as we are treated to a shared moment between two characters who convey their love for each other through song. There are some moving reaction shots of the principal characters reflecting on the lyrics that are being sung and how the tune reminds them of their feelings for a special someone. They feel it and so do we.

One of the film’s pleasant surprises is the elegant direction of Bharat Nalluri, a British television director by trade who unfortunately has The Crow: Salvation (2000) on his resume. Fortunately, his work on Miss Pettigrew makes one quickly forget that he was ever a part of that debacle as he gives this film a classy, retro touch. He also brings a refreshing economy of style, wisely letting the actors’ performances and the well-written screenplay to do all the heavy lifting. He’s also smart enough to wrap it all up in an attractive package thanks to Sarah Greenwood’s production design and Nick Gottschalk’s art direction. The attention to period detail is fantastic, from the cars, clothes and architecture that immerse us completely in ‘30s era London. One only has to look at Delysia’s stunningly decorated apartment, or Nick’s Art Deco style nightclub, to see the great lengths the filmmakers went to get the period details just right.

Published in 1938, Winifred Watson wrote Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day and several other books about women transforming their lives while also addressing class differences and extramarital sex. Her novels were popular and well-received by critics but during WWII she phased out her writing career because of a commitment to her husband and newborn son. Hollywood soon came calling and Universal Studios optioned the rights to Miss Pettigrew with plans to adapt it into a musical with popular movie star Billie Burke as Miss Pettigrew. However, the war prompted Universal to focus on serious films instead.

Miss Pettigrew was rediscovered and reprinted in 2000 to critical acclaim. Producer Stephen Garrett read the book and found it to be “extraordinarily uplifting, completely captivating, and life-affirming.” He optioned the film rights and was introduced to fellow producer Nellie Bellflower. He had her read the book, which she enjoyed so much that she agreed to team-up with Garrett to bring the novel to the big screen. In fact, it was Bellflower who first thought of Frances McDormand as Miss Pettigrew. She gave the book to the actress’ managers. They all loved it and McDormand wanted to play the title role even without a director attached or a screenplay written.

Screenwriter David Magee (Finding Neverland) read the book and fell in love with Delysia and Pettigrew. The book reminded him of “classic movies from that era, those wonderful romantic comedies where you feel for the characters but there’s also an energetic pace and a lightness of spirit.” Bellflower was able to get Focus Features to finance the film and also brought Simon Beaufoy (Slumdog Millionaire) on board as a second screenwriter. After directing the miniseries Tsunami: The Aftermath (2006), Nalluri wanted to do something more life-affirming. He had worked with Garrett on it and also the popular British caper television show Hustle. However, the producers didn’t really see Nalluri as a right fit for Miss Pettigrew but after meeting with him, they were impressed with his knowledge of the time period the film was set in. The story originally took place in 1938 and Nalluri suggested changing it to the day that World War II broke out. “That became our magical day, which was great in terms of drama and theatricality and an over-the-top quality.”

McDormand was so determined to play Pettigrew that she stuck with the project through years of development. The producers saw many young actresses for the role of Delysia and found the right person with Amy Adams, impressed with her work in Junebug (2005) and Enchanted (2007). She really responded to Delysia and also jumped at the chance to work with McDormand, someone she greatly admired. The two actresses got on famously right from the first script reading and, according to Nalluri, “it set the whole tone of the film – and the style we shot it in.”

Nalluri maintained a relaxed atmosphere on the set as well as a collaborative feel so that everyone felt they were working on something special. He prepared thoroughly for every day of shooting so he would be able to work with the actors more closely. He shot the film over seven weeks, recreating 1939 London on location and at the legendary Ealing Studios with the considerable help of cinematographer John de Borman (The Full Monty) and production designer Sarah Greenwood (Atonement). For inspiration, they looked at several photographers, like Yevonde Cumbers, a famous London shutterbug known for a stylized kind of full-color graphics. De Borman decided to eschew the traditional period look for a lot of color and not overlight scenes or soften the lenses in order to achieve the fairy tale look they wanted. Delysia’s apartment was built at Ealing Studios in the style of period decorators Dorothy Draper and William Haines. For location shooting in London, the filmmakers sought out places that could be affordably transformed back to the ‘30s, like South London’s Rivoli Ballroom, which was made to resemble an authentic speakeasy, or, like the ballroom at the Savoy Hotel, a location that looked like it did back then.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day received general favorable reviews from critics. In his review for The New York Times, Stephen Holden wrote, “Without Ms. Adams’s presence, who knows what Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day might have been. As it stands, the movie, directed by Bharat Nalluri from a screenplay by David Magee and Simon Beaufoy, is an example of how a little nothing of a story can be inflated into a little something of a movie with perfect casting, dexterous tonal manipulation and an astute eye and ear for detail.” The Washington Post’s Ann Hornaday wrote, “But the film's flaws are nothing compared with the pleasures it offers, chiefly in its unapologetic pursuit of old-fashioned sweetness and romance.” In his review for the New York Observer, Andrew Sarris had problems with Amy Adams’ performance but enjoyed what Frances McDormand and Ciaran Hinds brought to the table: “Making an audience almost laugh when it wants to cry requires a delicate acting skill possessed by very few performers. Indeed, the fragile subtlety of the pas de deux of Ms. McDormand and Mr. Hinds is alone worth the price of admission.” The Los Angeles Times’ Carina Chocano wrote, “Adams is amazingly adept at playing smart playing dumb – there's more to her flaky actress than meets the eye. Opposites yet kindred spirits, Adams and McDormand make a great pair as a couple of women living by their wits during a particularly hysterical moment in history.” USA Today gave the film three out of four stars and Claudia Puig wrote, “Wisely cast, this handsome production is a delightful farcical fairy tale, bolstered by moments of depth and emotion.” In her review for the San Francisco Chronicle, Ruthe Stein wrote, “Director Bharat Nalluri gives Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day the patina of a film actually made in the 1930s, when audiences couldn't get enough of the lifestyles of the rich. The movie has a lightness and smoothness to it – like one of Delysia's satin gowns.”

However, in her review for the Village Voice, Ella Taylor wrote, “What passes for plot is cocktail parties in floor-length Deco gowns, interrupted by the occasional German bomb and the obligatory shopping excursion in which Miss P. gets her extreme makeover and gently instructs her confused young boss in basic self-respect.” Entertainment Weekly gave the film a “C+” rating and Lisa Schwarzbaum wrote, “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, in contrast, thinks secrets are quite naughty, in a nursery way. But they're also kind of cute, in a British tweedle-dee-dee way.” In his review for the Boston Globe, Wesley Morris wrote, “It's a polished-looking movie, but all that pizzazz is put to monotonously shallow ends. It would take a star of steroidal proportions to jazz this movie up. If dour Miss Pettigrew does indeed live for a day, good for her. That's 24 hours longer than this movie seems to.”

It is refreshing to see a film with a friendship between two women at its heart. Delysia doesn’t treat Pettigrew as a servant to be ordered around but more like a partner in crime or, in many respects, an equal. Miss Pettigrew could have so easily been a poor attempt to resurrect the period screwball comedy and come across as the cinematic equivalent of a wax museum: a superficial facsimile of the real thing. However, it is the winning, heartfelt performances of Adams and McDormand, along with the friendship between their characters that transcends the film from being merely a homage to classic Hollywood cinema. It reminds us of what made the best films from that era so good and that it is possible to recapture that magic.

 

Stephen King's The Night Flier

Most people see tabloid newspapers at the checkout stands in their local grocery store and hardly give them the time of day. Their purpose is to kill time until it is time to go through the checkout. Once in awhile you may think to yourself, who writes the stuff that populates these rags? Where do they get their material from? Stephen King’s The Night Flier (1997) answers these questions by giving them a supernatural spin. What if these more outrageous stories that populate the tabloids were based on actual otherworldly horrors? Because people don’t take these newspapers seriously they can be a safe place to talk about the bizarre: UFOs, the end of the world, and so on.


When one thinks of Stephen King adaptations, invariably the high profile examples come immediately to mind: Carrie (1976), The Shining (1980), Misery (1990), and so on. However, every once in awhile there’s one that flies in under the radar like The Night Flier, an adaptation of a short story that appeared in the 1994 bestselling anthology Nightmares and Dreamscapes. It’s a nasty little piece of work that came out during a time when horror had become stagnate, too self-flexive and, worst of all, lost its ability to scare. The film featured a thoroughly unlikable protagonist pursuing a cold-blooded monster and deserves to be ranked among some of the finest adaptations of King’s work.

Richard Dees (Miguel Ferrer) is a veteran reporter for Inside View, a National Inquirer-esque tabloid rag that peddles in alien abductions, dead babies, attacks on the handicap, and demonic possession to name but just a few of its lurid favorites. His editor Merton Morrison (Dan Monahan) hands Dees a new assignment: a serial killer who flies into small, deserted airports at night, kills and then drains the blood of his victims. The killer even calls himself Dwight Renfield (a reference to the first name of the actor who played Renfield in the 1931 film version of Dracula) and pilots a black Cessna. Dees is not impressed but Morrison reminds him that he’s lost his touch – he hasn’t had a cover story in ages and this one is prime material that could put him back on top.

When Dees still refuses to cover the story, Morrison assigns the job to a young woman named Katherine Blair (a Phoebe Cates-esque Julie Entwisle), a recently hired inexperienced reporter looking for her big break. A bemused Dees immediately dubs her “Jimmy” (after Superman’s trusted sidekick Jimmy Olsen), just another aspiring reporter he has seen come and go from Inside View. His gruff, no-bullshit attitude comes as a shock to Katherine whom he tries to discourage by offering his take on the magazine he writes for: “Inside View is an illustration of the insane. It’s a diary of the deranged and dangerously sick.” Despite this glowing endorsement, Katherine stays with the magazine.

Pretty soon another murder happens and the job becomes too irresistible for Dees. Morrison puts him on it, much to Katherine’s chagrin. As luck would have it, Dees is a pilot with his own small plane and he pursues the killer all along the eastern seaboard. Initially, this gig is nothing stranger than any of the other countless jobs he’s worked over the years. Yet, this assignment gets under Dees’ skin and he begins to lose his touch with reality as he’s plagued with nightmares of Renfield.

Director Mark Pavia establishes just the right creepy mood from the opening scene of a fog-enshrouded airport in the middle of night. There is a palpable atmosphere of dread as the film’s first victim is viciously killed. He populates The Night Flier with gloomy cemeteries, dimly-lit hotel rooms and dark and stormy nights.

The always watchable Miguel Ferrer nails the world-weary cynicism of Dees right from his hard-boiled introduction where he berates a co-worker for messing with his latest article. The actor isn’t afraid to play Dees as a repellent human being that profits off the miseries of others. Years of this have clearly made him jaded and lacking ambition, which Ferrer conveys in only a few minutes of screen-time. His deep, gravelly voice is ideally suited for Dees’ been there, done that attitude. It’s the kind of role James Woods might have played in the 1980’s as he was another character actor unafraid to play unfiltered protagonists. The Night Flier is an excellent showcase for Ferrer’s considerable talents. Known for his scene-stealing supporting roles in films like RoboCop (1987) and television shows like Twin Peaks, it’s great to see him in a starring role doing what he does best – playing prickly bastards. Despite all the terrible things Dees does, Ferrer’s natural charisma keeps us invested. We don’t care about his character but he is interesting enough for us to see what happens to him.

Dan Monahan has a juicy role as Dees’ unscrupulous editor – an opportunistic scumbag not above playing the veteran writer against the inexperienced Katherine in order to get the sensationalistic story that will sell lots of copies (“God, I hope he kills more people!” Morrison exclaims at one point). The scenes between him and Ferrer are a lot of fun to watch as their unrepentant, amoral characters bounce off each other. Morrison is a slick salesman masquerading as a magazine editor as evident by the sales pitch he gives Katherine during her interview for a job at the Inside View, which he describes as “a cultural microscope – focusing in on the collective unconscious of the American populace.” Even the relatively naïve Katherine doesn’t entirely buy Morrison’s hyperbolic bullshit but he says it convincingly enough that she accepts the job.

Director Mark Pavia grew up watching Creature Features every Friday night in Chicago and read genre magazines like Famous Monsters of Filmland and Fangoria. He made amateur films all through grade and high school, including an adaptation of Roald Dahl’s Lambs to the Slaughter, which earned him a scholarship to film school and won an award at the Chicago Film Festival. While at film school, he made the zombie short film Drag on black white, 16 mm film stock with friends for only $25,000. Pavia sent copies separately to legendary film producer Richard P. Rubinstein (Dawn of the Dead) and Stephen King, both of whom he greatly admired. At the time, the two men were working on a film adaptation of King’s magnum opus, The Stand while also considering an adaptation of The Night Flier. King had taken a crack at the screenplay but got stuck and abandoned it. He and Rubinstein were impressed with Pavia’s work on Drag and called the young filmmaker asking him if he wanted to write and direct a low-budget adaptation of The Night Flier. Pavia and childhood friend Jack O’Donnell spent two weeks putting together a presentation and then flew to New York City to make their pitch. Two weeks later, Pavia got a call and was told that he got the gig.

Pavia and O’Donnell wrote six drafts in six weeks with King reading and approving them all while also giving them notes. However, the production was delayed a year when Rubinstein’s company folded and he started up a new one. In that time Pavia polished the script and scouted locations, picking Wilmington, North Carolina. He also storyboarded the film extensively, which saved time during principal photography. Pavia said, “Storyboarding allows me to see the movie before I shoot a single frame.” When it came to casting the role of Richard Dees, he thought only of Miguel Ferrer. Pavia had been a fan of the actor since seeing him in RoboCop and told Rubinstein that he would be perfect for the role. King agreed and they sent Ferrer a copy of the script. Coincidentally, he had just finished work on the T.V. miniseries version of The Stand and was also a huge fan of the author’s work. Pavia had 30 days to shoot The Night Flier and brought it in a day early and under budget.

After finishing the film, the producers shopped it around Hollywood. Several major studios were interested, in particular Paramount, but they wanted to wait over a year to release it theatrically. Rubinstein wasn’t crazy about that idea and sold the film to HBO, which premiered it to strong numbers on their channel. The Night Flier went to receive mixed to negative reviews from critics. The New York Times’ Stephen Holden wrote, “The story has been so poorly adapted that intriguing clues to the killer’s motives and modus operandi are introduced, then left hanging,” but felt that “the movie’s sole strength is Mr. Ferrer’s relentlessly hard-boiled performance.” In his review for the Los Angeles Times’ Kevin Thomas, he wrote, “this blood bath of a movie, which bears King’s name in the title, indulges in the very wretched excesses it attempts to criticize.” The harshest criticism came from Entertainment Weekly, which gave the film a “D+” rating and felt that it was “as impersonally designed as a car commercial.”

The climactic showdown is an unhinged bloodbath as Dees and the object of his obsession meet head on. After years of covering the worst aspects of humanity, Dees has become a parasite, much like his target – only instead of blood, Dees feeds on misery and suffering. Where Renfield drains his victims of their blood, Dees takes photographs of horribly mangled corpses in a grisly highway accident. The Night Flier is about one man’s search for a moment of greatness, which mirrors Dees’ quest for Renfield. While Pavia does a nice job of laying on the atmosphere, Ferrer’s relentless performance is the film’s strongest selling point and makes a convincing argument for more leading roles for this underrated character actor.

 

DVD of the Week: The Killing

Before graduating to studio films for the remainder of his filmmaking career, Stanley Kubrick cut his teeth on several lean independent films with producer James B. Harris, chief among them was The Killing (1956), a masterful take on Lionel White’s novel Clean Break. Adapted by Kubrick with dialogue written by none other than legendary crime novelist Jim Thompson, The Killing tells a fairly standard tale of a heist gone wrong. However, it is how Kubrick tells it, which makes the film one of the all-time classic noirs. He rearranges the sequence of events in a way that puts a fascinating spin on how everything goes down, decades before Quentin Tarantino made it cool again with Reservoir Dogs (1992).


During the fifth race at a horse track several incidents occur, which are seemingly unrelated to the casual observer but, of course, are all part of a masterful plan as conveyed by the knowing looks between a number of men. Johnny Clay (Sterling Hayden) is the de facto mastermind of the job and a savvy crook who understands the odds: “Anytime you take a chance you better be sure the rewards are worth the risk because they can put you away just as fast for a $10 heist as a million dollar job.” He plans to take his cut and fly off with his girlfriend and childhood sweetheart Fay (Coleen Gray).

Kubrick skips around chronologically to introduce all the significant players in the drama: bartender Mike O’Reilly (Joe Sawyer); track cashier George Peatty (Elisha Cook) and his shrewish wife Sherry (Marie Windsor); as well as her lover Val (Vince Edwards); gambler Marvin Unger (Jay C. Flippen); with two hired hoods – sniper Nikki Arcane (Timothy Carey) and brawler Maurice Oboukhoff (Kola Kwariani). Like most heist films, everyone has their own agenda and nobody can be trusted. Kubrick establishes these characters, shows their roles in the job and their respective fates in its aftermath.

The Killing features an impressive cast with the likes of Sterling Hayden, a veteran of these kinds of films (see The Asphalt Jungle) and ideally-suited as the no-nonsense leader. Idiosyncratic character actor Timothy Carey has a small but memorable role as a grimacing sharpshooter, but it is Elisha Cook and Marie Windsor who steal the show as a deeply dysfunctional couple. She is a two-timing schemer who has her husband wrapped around her finger (or so she thinks) while he’s the proverbial doormat, ignorant of his wife’s duplicitous ways. Some of the film’s best scenes feature their rocky relationship – one that can only end badly.

Like most film noirs, The Killing chronicles the inevitable countdown to the doomed finale for all involved. We know it’s coming, we just don’t know how and one of the perverse thrills is watching as everything goes horribly wrong. An early film in his career, Kubrick already demonstrated a masterful touch as he orchestrates a meticulously plotted heist film with the confident hand of a seasoned maestro. He also shows his knack for observing human behavior – in this case that of the criminal mind as he illustrates how a carefully planned job is ruined by greed and jealousy.

Special Features:

On the first disc is an interview with producer James B. Harris who talks about working with Stanley Kubrick and, of course, The Killing. Harris recounts how he met the director and the genesis of this film. He gives a nicely detailed account of several aspects of the production and his contributions.

Also included are excerpts from a 1984 interview with actor Sterling Hayden for French television. He talks about working in Hollywood and with Kubrick. Quite the colorful character, Hayden is refreshingly candid about his experiences making films.

“Polito on Thompson” features Robert Polito, author of Savage Art: A Biography of Jim Thompson, talking about the legendary writer’s relationship with Kubrick and the problems he encountered while working in Hollywood. Kubrick was a great admirer of Thompson’s books, especially his knack for writing dialogue, and wanted to utilize this strength in The Killing. Polito recounts how the two men met and their collaboration on this film.

There is a theatrical trailer.

The second disc starts off with a fantastic extra for Kubrick fans – a newly re-mastered transfer of Killer’s Kiss (1955), a low budget film noir the director made prior to The Killing. Shot on the streets of New York City, it concerns a small-time boxer by the name of Davey Gordon (Jamie Smith) who is past his prime. He becomes romantically involved with his neighbor and dancer Gloria Price (Irene Kane) while also getting mixed up with her violent boss Vincent Rapallo (Frank Silvera). Kubrick’s background in documentaries is evident in the way he shoots every day life in New York. The city is almost a character unto itself and the film serves as a fascinating snapshot of a metropolis that no longer exists.

Film critic Geoffrey O’Brien talks about Killer’s Kiss. He compares it to a student film in the sense that it was done for very little money, was an opportunity for the young Kubrick to experiment, and demonstrates his promise as an aspiring filmmaker. He points out that there is a loose, almost improvisational quality that would be less evident in later films as Kubrick became a more skillful director.

Finally, there is a theatrical trailer.

 

Top of the Food Chain

After a 15-year hiatus from making feature films, Canadian auteur John Paizs returned with a wickedly funny, little-seen 1950’s alien invasion parody, Top of the Food Chain (1999). He was no stranger to deconstructing genres as he had satirized the B-crime/noir previously with Crime Wave (1985). However, this film actually featured two recognizable name actors with Campbell Scott and Tom Everett Scott. Sadly, they could not save this gem from obscurity where it has been languishing on home video. However, it was the beginning of a cycle of films that parodied ‘50s B-movies, along with Psycho Beach Party (2000), The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra (2001), and more recently Alien Trespass (2009). For my money, Paizs’ film is the funniest of the bunch as it pokes fun at the repressed attitude towards sex that was indicative of that era and brings the kinkiness right up front with hilarious results.


The town of Exceptional Vista looks like the aftermath of a George Romero zombie invasion: deserted, abandoned cars littering the streets with run-down-looking buildings everywhere. It seems that the Fine Nuts factory (“The finest nuts in the western central northeast.”) closed down and moved to Left Hemisphere some time ago with almost all of the other businesses following suit. What a perfect spot for the beginning of an alien invasion! A hapless fisherman is the first victim when he encounters a beautiful woman who asks him, “Would you like to perform the copulatory act with me?” The fact that her come-on is right out of a science textbook should send up a red flag but it’s too late for this backwoods angler.

A few of the remaining townsfolk hang out at the general store where they complain about the lack of television reception. Among them is Mayor Claire (Bernard Behrens), a character who seems to be channeling Star Trek’s Dr. McCoy with incredulous exclamations like, “By the beheaded John the Baptist…” or “By the blessed fruit of Mary’s womb!” The beautiful Miss Sandy Fawkes (Fiona Loewi) shows up with news that Dr. Karel Lamonte (Campbell Scott), the most brilliant atomic scientist at the atomic academy, will be staying at her motel. She encounters him lurking at the back of the store, perusing a pig fetishist magazine (called Pig Parliament no less?!) He is the typical brainy scientist albeit with some kinky twists that become apparent later on.

Dr. Lamonte soon encounters other significant townsfolk. There’s Officer Gayle (Hardee T. Lineham) who takes an instant dislike to the professor. Guy Fawkes (Tom Everett Scott) is Sandy’s dimwitted brother with whom she seems to have an incestuous relationship. Also staying at the motel is Michel O’Shea (Nigel Bennett), a little too-friendly traveling salesman who specializes in vacuums. In most alien invasion films it is the people who act strangely that we suspect are from another world but in Top of the Food Chain everyone is odd.

While hiking through the lumpy bumpy part of town outside of town, Dr. Lamonte discovers the decomposing remains of someone and dutifully informs Gayle and the mayor. Meanwhile, the townsfolk are being picked off by the aliens. Just who are they? Is it, as Mr. O’Shea speculates, some sort of man-eating Sasquatch-type thing roaming the countryside, or quite possibly a gang of genetically engineered serial killers, possibly devil worshippers?

Campbell Scott doesn’t do many comedies but displays fantastic comic timing in this film as a straight-laced (sort of) scientist. The actor nails the stuffy, uptight archetypal ‘50s egghead with uncanny fidelity, right down to the authoritative voice all these characters seem to have, which makes his kooky dialogue that much funnier. The 1990’s were a great decade for Scott as he appeared in such diverse fare as Singles (1992), Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle (1994), and The Spanish Prisoner (1997). Top of the Food Chain demonstrated his knack for broad, farcical comedy.

Canadian television screenwriters and co-producers Phil Bedard and Larry Lalonde (Kung Fu: The Legend Continues) were looking for a director with the right sensibilities for their unusual screenplay and happened to catch John Paizs’ first feature film Crime Wave one night on pay T.V. and were taken with its deadpan humor and faux-Technicolor look. They wanted Top of the Food Chain to have the same look. Afterwards, they knew he was the right person for the job. He was sent a copy of the script in 1994. Paizs developed his comedic sensibilities directing episodes of the T.V. show The Kids in the Hall whose oddball, often surreal humor was perfect for this film. He described it as “an amalgam of a certain kind of rural comedy and the 50’s sci-fi picture. Or as a sort of cinematic platypus.”

The filmmakers called Campbell Scott’s agent and asked if he was interested in being in the film. He was drawn to the project for the chance to work with Paizs after seeing and enjoying Crime Wave, and to also dispel the notion that he was not funny. He also had a fondness for old ‘50s monster movies and used to watch them on T.V. as a child. “It was perhaps the only era where science was considered sexy.” Lalonde and Bedard had previously cast Fiona Loewi in the T.V. series John Woo’s Once a Thief and were impressed with her work and cast her in the film. She had done a lot of dramatic work and was drawn to this film for the chance to do something different, funnier.

Top of the Food Chain took years to finance because it was such unusual project but producer Suzanne Berger found a wealthy investment banker in New York City who wanted to invest in a film. Scott signed on a week before production began and this helped secure the last bit of financing the filmmakers needed. The film was shot over five weeks in the summer of 1998 in a former G.E. factory in west-end Toronto. Paizs encouraged Loewi to improvise and she “sexed up the character to a degree not seen on the page,” the director remembered. She said, “we were allowed to experiment – Campbell and I would make up our own little bits.”

The production mostly eschewed CGI in favor of old school prosthetic and animatronic effects mostly because of the small budget they had to work with but also to give the film a campy, retro feel. F/X and makeup artist Paul Jones tried to keep the opticals to a minimum, “so all the transformation in the movie is in the camera.”

In his review for Variety, Ken Eisner wrote, “Not everything in the script works, but there's so much irreverent, movie-loving stuff flying at you, it hardly matters. Real belly laughs come only occasionally, but the chortle-out-loud factor is almost 90%.” The Montreal Gazette’s John Griffin wrote, “With any justice in this darned old world it will become the cult movie about cult movies by which all cult movies about cult movies are judged.” The Toronto Star’s Peter Howell wrote, “Paizs and his cast obviously had a ball making this film; at times they can barely keep straight faces. But they make this cheeseball roll, if a little too slowly at times. Most impressive are the retro-riffic special effects, which are better than you'd expect for a movie with a budget of about $1.98.” However, the Calgary Herald’s Katrina Onstad wrote, “Despite some smiley moments and good intentions, Top of the Food Chain never generates the big laugh payoff. In comedy, that's an issue.” In his review for the Village Voice, Dennis Lim wrote, “the movie seems curiously off-target, like a spoof of a spoof, and for every moment of throwaway lunacy, there are too many that turn Mystery Science Theater-style lampoon into heavy lifting.”

No matter how ridiculous things get (and they get pretty wacky), the cast plays it straight, never winking knowingly at the camera, which makes the crazy dialogue they say even funnier. Bedard and Lalonde’s script is very clever with many laugh-out loud moments. These guys are obviously big fans of ‘50s B-movies as they serve up many of their clichés and then poke fun while also celebrating them. This is an affectionate satire. They have a deliciously warped sense of humor that comes out in their dialogue, which apes the often stilted speak of those old films. Much like Psycho Beach Party would do a year later, Top of the Food Chain takes all the sexual subtext of those old B-movies and brings it right to the surface with hilarious results. It is one of the funniest, little known alien invasion spoofs with a perverse sense of humor that gives it an added zing. When it was released on home video in the United States it was unfortunately renamed Invasion! and deserves to be the kind of cult film that people quote from fondly.

 

The January Man

Outside of Ishtar (1987) or maybe Gigli (2003), you’d be hard-pressed to find another more critically savaged film than The January Man (1989). And what an ass-kicking it took at the box office, pulling in just under five million dollars in the United States. Why so much vitriol directed at one film? Coming off the success of his Academy Award-winning screenplay for Moonstruck (1987), John Patrick Shanley assumed he could do no wrong and for his next film assembled an impressive roster of talent with Pat O’Connor (A Month in the Country) directing, Marvin Hamlisch (The Sting) composing the score, and a cast that featured the likes of Kevin Kline, Susan Sarandon, Alan Rickman, Harvey Keitel, and Rod Steiger. For good measure, Shanley’s Moonstruck director Norman Jewison produced the film.


With this insane amount of talent in front of and behind the camera, how could The January Man fail? Critics and audiences were not ready for the end result: a thriller with sudden tonal shifts, veering from comedy to romance to mystery, often within the same scene. Some of the cast delivered low-key performances while others chewed up the scenery. The film was deemed a mess, a disappointing misfire from brilliant artists that should have known better. Yet, the messiness of this film is what I like about it as it reflects the messiness of the protagonist’s life. The January Man is an underrated critique of the thriller genre and deserves to be rediscovered and re-assessed now that enough time has passed.

Someone in New York City is strangling and killing beautiful young women. It has been going on for almost a year with 11 women dead. When the latest victim (Faye Grant) was last seen by the mayor’s daughter Bernadette (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) and could have easily been the one dead, his Honor (Rod Steiger) leans heavily on police commissioner Frank Starkey (Harvey Keitel) to do something about it. He wants the best man the chief’s got on the job and that would Nick Starkey (Kevin Kline), Frank’s estranged brother. It turns out that Nick used to be a hot shot police detective but was screwed over royally in some sort of scandal and is now a firefighter.

We are introduced to Nick as he heroically saves a child from a burning building. After reviving the kid, the understandably exhausted man requests an espresso – the first indication that The January Man is going to be something different. It’s the absurdity of Kline asking for an espresso amidst the carnage of a raging inferno that deflates his heroic action and gives us a clue as to what kind of person we’re dealing with. Nick isn’t some glory hound but genuinely cares about saving lives at the risk of his own. Frank appeals to his brother to help him out and in return he’ll be fully reinstated and given carte blanche on the case. Nick only has one condition: to make dinner for Frank’s wife and his ex-lover, Christine (Susan Sarandon). Judging from her reaction when Frank tells her, she still has feelings for Nick.

Nick returns home to find his best friend Ed (Alan Rickman) painting with a nude female model and a kitten as his subjects (let’s not forget a talking parrot commenting on the action in the corner). Coming off his classic villainous role in Die Hard (1988), Alan Rickman goes completely in the opposite direction with this hilarious low-key character full of dry wit. The actor proceeds to steal the scene (and every other one he’s in) with a simple look he gives Kline while defending his intrusion in Nick’s apartment. He goes from defensive to warm and inviting when he agrees to clear out so that Nick can prepare his dinner for Christine. What also makes Ed such a memorable character is how he speaks, like the way he tells the model, “Just languish there, darling. Don’t molest anything.” It’s how he emphasizes the words, “languish” and “molest” that make this bit so funny. It’s an incredible example of what a great actor can do with a bit of dialogue just by how he says a word a certain way. Apparently, Ed is some kind of computer expert in his spare time and Nick hires him to help out in his investigation.

The scene where local precinct captain Vincent Alcoa (Danny Aiello) confronts the mayor about reinstating Nick under his watch is a master class in over the top profane scenery chewing. Danny Aiello comes in bellowing (“Don’t bullshit me besides screwing me!”) and then takes it up another notch. Not to be outdone, Rod Steiger cranks it up to a whole other level (“You think I’m your wife, you wanna fuck me?!”) and becomes so enraged that you swear his head will explode at some point. Harvey Keitel wisely plays it low key as he does throughout the entire film. So much so that it’s kind of spooky, like he’s sleepwalking his way through the film – uncustomary for the usually intense actor. There is a method to Shanley’s madness, however, as this scene satirizes the hot-tempered chief chewing out a subordinate by showing how ridiculous it is to have two grown men yelling at each other.

The dinner scene between Nick and Christine also subverts convention. One assumes that he is trying to win her back and would prepare food that she would like. But no, he has made the most unusual culinary challenged meal that includes octopus, which Christine is clearly not thrilled with eating. What’s odd about this sequence is its placement in the film. Shanley stops the thriller story cold and inserts this scene that is straight out of a romantic comedy as Nick and Christine rehash old times. Coming off her earthy, sexy role in Bull Durham (1988), Susan Sarandon plays a very different character – one that is cold and distant as she is part of an unhappy marriage. This sequence feels like a different film entirely but it works if you understand what Shanley is trying to do: subvert the conventions of the thriller genre by plopping down a tonally different scene from a disparate genre. It’s a ballsy move on Shanley’s part and a potential deal breaker for an audience expecting a standard thriller. However, what he’s doing is what Quentin Tarantino would excel at in the 1990’s (see Pulp Fiction) so maybe it took audiences a few years to catch up to what Shanley was doing in The January Man.

During his investigation, Nick befriends and then becomes romantically involved with Bernadette, which complicates things on two fronts: she was friends with one of the murder victims and she’s the mayor’s daughter. Their initial meeting is interesting in the sense that it’s a meet-cute right out of a romantic comedy except that their conversation veers from the murder to Nick’s relationship with Christine to him hitting on Bernadette and then having sex with her in the next scene. She’s upset over her friend getting killed and he’s feeling vulnerable after the uncomfortable dinner with Christine. They find a bit of solace together, a brief respite from the ugly murder that they’re both linked to. The script alludes to a rich backstory for Nick with a complicated past that involves his brother and Christine. The details aren’t particularly important, just the fallout and how it informs their relationship with one another in the present.

What I like about Kevin Kline’s character is that he’s a thinker. Director Pat O’Connor shows him studying evidence, observing people and their behavior, all the while analyzing the case in his head. Nick is definitely a left-brain person who thinks outside the box. The role also allows Kline to show off not only his comedic chops (of which are superb) but also his aptitude for drama, like when Nick begins to delve deeper into the case, or the complex relationship with his brother Frank. Kline is a versatile actor able to go back and forth from comedy and drama, often in the same scene, making him the ideal choice for this role. I’ve always found Kline to be an offbeat leading man. He’s not traditionally handsome, like Brad Pitt or George Clooney, but he has a very likable persona that is charming and disarming. Only Lawrence Kasdan (I Love You to Death) has really been able to consistently utilize him to his full potential. The actor had just come off his Academy Award-winning turn in A Fish Called Wanda (1988) and with The January Man played a radically different character – an intelligent romantic as opposed to the outlandish buffoon as in Wanda.

When Kevin Kline read the screenplay for The January Man, he thought it would be fun to do. “It’s so outrageous, it’s got such panache. It’s not really a murder-mystery thriller, it’s about family and betrayal and the individual outside the system.” In addition, producer Norman Jewison described it as “a romantic comedy thriller.” The film was shot over ten weeks in Manhattan and Toronto. With a background in documentaries, director Pat O’Connor made sure the precinct featured prominently in the film looked authentic, right down to the layout and the way the extras looked. He hired Ed Zigo as a consultant. He was one of the police detectives who helped catch David Berkowitz a.k.a. the Son of Sam. Zigo took some of the cast and crew on tours of precincts in and around New York City. By all accounts, principal photography went smoothly so what went wrong? Perhaps something during the post-production phase? The most telling comment came from screenwriter John Patrick Shanley who saw three cuts of the film. “One time I saw it, I didn’t like it. One time I saw it and I really liked it. And then the third time I saw it I was confused and wasn’t sure how I felt.” Guess which version was released.

It is a gross understatement to say that critics savaged The January Man when it was released. Roger Ebert gave the film one out of four stars and wrote, “Nothing fits. Every role seems to have been faxed in from a different movie, and the actors are on such various planes of emotional intensity that sometimes you can catch them, right there on the screen, looking at each other in bewilderment.” In his review for The New York Times, Vincent Canby wrote, “Pat O'Connor, the director (Stars and Bars, A Month in the Country, Cal), has imposed no risible order on this minor chaos, nor has he been kind to Mr. Kline. He allows this very gifted comic actor to work so hard trying to be funny that one alternately sweats and cringes while watching him.” USA Today gave the film one out of four stars and Matt Roush felt that “the movie is all concept, with little ingenuity applied to the execution.” Time magazine gave the film a mixed review, addressing Shanley’s script: “His busy plotting may require a suspension of incredulity, but he is well served by good actors; by a director, Pat O'Connor, with a taste for the acrid flavors of big-city life; and by his own delight in human eccentricity.” In her review for the Washington Post, Rita Kempley wrote, “Eliot called April the cruelest month, but then he hadn't seen The January Man. Billed as a mystery with romance and comedy, it is a damp sock of a movie that makes you wish for leap year.” The Globe and Mail’s Rick Groen wrote, “There are isolated scenes (bantering with his artsy sidekick, confronting an old flame, seducing a new) that sail along marvelously. But, each time, our raised hopes are quickly dashed, and apparent redemption ends as merely a momentary reprieve.” Newsweek magazine’s David Ansen wrote, “The whodunit is spectacularly implausible, the comedy misjudged, the romance forced.” Finally, in his review for the Los Angeles Times, Charles Champlin came the closest of anyone to giving the film a positive review when he wrote, “You are left with some genuine laughter, with a renewed awareness that Shanley is a special and considerable talent, and with an equally renewed feeling that nobody wins 'em all.”

Shanley casts a discerning eye upon the thriller genre without beating the viewer over the head with its conventions. Most thrillers are plot-driven but The January Man is inhabited by characters that you care about – you want to see Nick end up with Bernadette at the film’s conclusion. The film critiques the police thriller by presenting all of its conventions – the loose cannon cop who doesn’t play by the rules; the gruff boss who’s tired of his screwball antics; the ex-lover who creates romantic tension; tantalizing hints of political corruption; and the serial killer following a specific methodology – and then proceeds to subvert them by confounding our expectations, like the killer turning out to be a nobody just following his own sick impulses, or making the cop protagonist an artsy bohemian type. Even the climactic showdown is unusual – a messy, amusing sequence that goes on longer than you’d expect as Nick is portrayed as not the most adept at physical combat. The film’s intent is best summed up by its most memorable line of dialogue that Nick says to Christine when he realizes that he doesn’t love her anymore: “I loved an idea I had that looked like you.” It’s like Shanley loved an idea he had of a thriller that looked like the one that is the film. As if anticipating the critical shellacking his film was going to take upon its release, Shanley has Ed say at the end of the film, “The world’s either great or wretched, isn’t it? So many people are just finished.” He could so easily be talking about Hollywood and what I always assumed to be Shanley’s love/hate relationship with it.

This article was inspired by Mr. Peel's thoughtful examination of the film over at his blog.
 
*note: these fantastic screencaps were taken from the Movie Screenshots blog.

Cowboys & Aliens

Jon Favreau has certainly come a long way since his independent film roots with Swingers (1996), the film he wrote and starred in. Over the years, he’s increasing spent more time behind the camera than in front, directing Made in 2001. The modest success of that film saw him transition to studio films with larger budgets like Elf (2003) and Zathura (2005). Then came Iron Man (2008), his most ambitious effort up to that point, and he rolled the dice with the casting of Robert Downey Jr. as his leading man. The gamble paid off and the film was a massive success, paving the way for the inevitable sequel. Rushed into production, the end result was a commercial triumph but a critical failure, which upped the stakes for his next film, Cowboys & Aliens (2011), an adaptation of the graphic novel of the same name by Scott Mitchell Rosenberg.


The premise is an intriguing hybrid of the science fiction and western genres with an alien invasion set in 1873 New Mexico. To hedge his bets, Favreau corralled Daniel Craig and Harrison Ford to headline his film, which caused epic seismic ripples through the fanboy community at the prospects of seeing the actors who played James Bond and Indiana Jones in the same film together. As a result, expectations were understandably high. Could Favreau and company deliver the goods or would this be another Wild Wild West (1999)?

A man wakes up in the middle of nowhere wounded and with a strange, futuristic device strapped to his wrist. He has no idea who he is or how he got there. Three men on horseback show up assuming he’s an escape convict and try to take him in. He quickly and brutally dispatches them, taking their gear and heading towards the nearest town – the former mining colony of Absolution. He eventually learns that his name is Jake Lonergan (Daniel Craig), a notorious outlaw wanted by the law for a variety of offences. One of which was robbing local cattle baron Colonel Woodrow Dolarhyde (Harrison Ford) of his gold. When he learns that Lonergan is in Absolution, Dolarhyde and him men intend to lynch the outlaw in retribution.

However, a strange light appears in the sky just as Dolarhyde arrives into town. The device on Lonergan’s wrist activates and the light turns out to be several alien spacecraft that proceed to blast the town to smithereens and kidnap several of its townsfolk. Lonergan discovers that his wrist device is a weapon, which he uses to take down one of the alien craft. The film sets up Dolarhyde as a mean son of a bitch while Lonergan is a no-nonsense criminal. They represent two unstoppable forces of nature and one of the pleasures of this film is when they have to put aside their differences, repel the alien invaders and rescue the kidnapped townsfolk.

For years, Harrison Ford has made bad choices in the films he’s decided to be in and phoned in one-note performances, playing the same gruff character, but with Cowboys & Aliens acting against someone like Daniel Craig has inspired him to bring his A-game this time around. Ford actually looks interested and engaged in the material and the role. It’s great to see him go up against Craig and their scenes together crackle with intensity and tension. Best of all, Ford has two scenes that expose his character’s gruff exterior and reveal a more vulnerable side. They are poignant and heartfelt because we’ve become invested in these characters by this point. This is the best Ford has been in years and reminds one of when he used to play characters we cared about.

Craig adds another man of action to his roster. He excels at playing edgy tough guys and is well cast as the enigmatic outlaw. The only drawback is that Lonergan is underwritten and there isn’t much for Craig to work with except for some standard motivation for his character revenging a lost one. As a result, the character comes across as a one-note Man with No Name, at times. Favreau does a good job of surrounding Craig and Ford with a solid ensemble cast of character actors. You’ve got Clancy Brown as the upstanding town preacher Meachum, Sam Rockwell as Doc, the mild-mannered saloon owner, Keith Carradine as Sheriff John Taggart, the always watchable Adam Beach as Nat Colorado, Dolarhyde’s right-hand man, and Olivia Wilde as a mysterious woman named Ella whose exotic beauty gives her an almost otherworldly aura. Hell, Favreau even throws Walt Goggins in for good measure as a member of Lonergan’s gang.

Favreau has all the traditional western iconography down cold and the fun of Cowboys & Aliens is seeing these motifs clash with the science fiction elements. So, we see cowboys on horseback being chased by fast-moving alien spacecraft. This film doesn’t stray from the conventions of either genre or try to reinvent them but instead merges and fulfills them in a crowd-pleasing way. Cowboys & Aliens has impressive special effects, nasty-looking aliens, several exciting action sequences, and two cool heroes to root for. This may not be the classic that people were hoping for but it is a very entertaining film in its own right and sometimes that’s enough.