Category: Film Review

Only Robert Altman would have had the wily nerve to release his cynical, ultra-revisionist Western oddity Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History Lesson on the bicentennial anniversary of the United States. Casually ripping apart the longstanding and totally absurd notions of white nobility and the violent Native American savage, this is a darkly comical, defiantly strange movie with a careening tone and a hazy, sometimes murky visual style that relied heavily on long shots with multiple characters in the frame, all of whom were talking at once, without any close-ups to establish whose voice belongs to who. Shot by Altman regular Paul Lohmann, I can think of few other films that walk, talk, and breathe like this one, and in tandem with Peter Appleton and Dennis M. Hill’s adroit editing, Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History Lesson displays a dreamy vibe that just has to be experienced for full effect. Altman’s bold and challenging use of sound and overlapping conversations has always been a point of discussion, but in this film, it may have reached its apex in terms of the use of multiple and simultaneous audio tracks.

This rascally effort features an eclectic supporting cast, including Will Sampson, Harvey Keitel, Geraldine Chaplin, Burt Lancaster, and Ned Buntline, with everyone allowing the irreplaceable Paul Newman ample room to run away with the movie in various spots. He was absolutely terrific here playing Buffalo Bill, taking the myth out of the man, and layering him in tragic, alcoholic glee. Co-written by Altman with frequent collaborator Alan Rudolph and adapted from the play Indians by Arthur Kopit, the film took on an episodic, farcical approach to the material, and arriving immediately after his much celebrated Nashville, my guess is that critics and audiences didn’t know what to do with Altman’s newest at the time of its release. Focusing on the wild, behind-the-scenes antics of the famous travelling Wild West Show, which was organized by Buffalo Bill and became a massively successful source of entertainment despite showcasing staggeringly inaccurate historical recreations, Altman and Rudolph were able to lay waste to the traditional idea of the hero in the wild West, presenting Buffalo Bill as a larger than life clown and drunkard, only interested in self-satisfaction and purveying a false sense of self-importance and legend. This is a phenomenally ambitious, wholly original, and totally unique item in the legendary filmography of one of America’s greatest and most influential filmmakers.

Crank 2: High Voltage is absolutely insane. On purpose and by design. You likely already know if this bit of madcap lunacy is in your cinematic wheelhouse; those unfamiliar with the first installment are not likely to take this challenge. The plot here is the same as the original: Indestructible hitman Chev Chelios (Jason Statham) has to keep his heart pumping fast enough to overcome a ridiculous affliction, with the conceit here being that his own heart has been removed and replaced with an artificial one that requires electricity to operate. The gonzo-splatter filmmakers, Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor (the first Crank, Gamer), are sadists of the first order. Here’s a random checklist of some of the cartoon-like atrocities that are displayed in this breakneck action movie: Anal-violation via shotgun; elbow-caps hacked off with machete; close-quarter machine gun shoot-outs; 10,765 old-school squibs being detonated; graphic and near pornographic sex scenes; gratuitous female nudity; Godzilla-style beat-downs (in the film’s most inspired sequence); casual racism; casual homophobia; casual misogyny; pitch-black humor – this equal opportunity offender has something hysterical and repugnant for every member of the extended family! I am able to easily award this amazing piece of trash four outta four stars. Four Big Ones. The film itself knows that it’s bonkers, and everyone involved in the making of it knew that it was bonkers. It doesn’t give a fuck what you think of it, and most enjoyably, it makes sense on its own terms. Extreme cinema like this lives in its own bubble, and I love these types of modern grindhouse efforts, as they typically all feature explosive stylistic ingredients that push various formal boundaries.

Sure, it’s nothing more than an R-rated Wile E. Coyote cartoon where nothing makes any logical sense. But the sheer energy and low-tech skill that Neveldine/Taylor brought to the table is simply staggering. Working with the daring and resourceful cinematographer Brandon Trost, the filmmakers shot this off-the-wall movie with 20, $1000 consumer-grade camcorders (or so I’ve read), resulting in a Tony Scott-on-a-sheet-of-acid aesthetic that will send anyone with any sort of spastic disorder into bouts of epileptic shock. The rogues gallery supporting cast is incredible, with the likes of Dwight Yoakam, David Carradine, a totally tripped-out Bai Ling, Corey Haim, Art Hsu, Reno Wilson, the amazing Efren Ramirez, and a snarling, extra-bad-ass Clifton Collins, Jr. as one of the chief baddies. Oh, and MAJOR shout-out to super-hottie Amy Smart, who again proved herself to be a champ on all fronts. She’s basically topless THE ENTIRE FILM, and her racetrack love scene with Statham is probably one of the longest, funniest, and wildest bits of simulated movie sex ever put on film. And what can you say about Statham that hasn’t been already said? He’s become his own brand, and even if I’m not in love with all of his actioners, when he wants to rip it up with full-force, he’s more than capable, and in the Crank films, he was able to cut totally loose and go for broke. Again – you’ll likely know before reading this review if you want to see this film. Is this the greatest movie ever made? No. But it’s an unqualified success based on its ambition, and no matter how depraved their vision may be, Neveldine/Taylor were clearly operating with a singular vision with this one.

My Darling Clementine will always be my favorite motion picture from legendary director John Ford. There’s something so simple and elegant about the film, and the somewhat recently released Criterion Collection Blu-Ray features a stunning digital transfer, no blemishes to speak of, the shimmery and wonderfully detailed black and white cinematography filling the 1.33:1 frame in all its Academy-ratio glory. Despite the compromised post-production process, the film still stands as one of Ford’s most assured and distinctive works, the funereal tone creating a dreamy and melancholic atmosphere to the old west proceedings. Henry Fonda’s performance was laid-back brilliance, always allowing the story to come to him, instead of trying to dominate each scene with blustery acting techniques.

Victor Mature’s work as the alcoholic Doc Holliday is the stuff of cinematic dreams-come-true; it’s one of my favorite performances of all time and every time you observe his work in this film you are able to find new, sad grace notes. Light on gun-slinging but rich in subtleties and character, the movie sort of feels at times like an anti-Western, which is interesting given that it was made during the genre’s full swing and not during the revisionist period. Kevin Costner tipped his hat to My Darling Clementine repeatedly in his underrated 2003 film Open Range, which also features a gripping and deadly shoot-out at the finish. I love contemplative westerns where the dialogue is rich and the relationships are complex – My Darling Clementine fits that bill while also providing unforgettable imagery and projecting a quietly lethal sense of finality.