We’re very excited to present to you our new series of mini-podcasts. Join us for a twenty minute long chat where we celebrate some of the most SHITTY AMAZING movies in film history. For our first episode, we’ve chosen a film that we instantly bonded over, BLUE JEAN COP aka SHAKEDOWN.
I’ve written about this one in the past, but that’s not going to stop me from writing about it again and again in the future, especially with the direction we’re headed in America. I can think of few films that would qualify more as “of the moment” than Idiocracy. Despite being released 10 years ago, this film feels more relevant and applicable each and every day, as seemingly half of the U.S. populace are mentally out to lunch, and I can think of no better time than right now to reignite the fire for this scathingly brilliant, insanely prescient satire that also happens to be a genuine opus of dick and fart jokes on top of it. Endlessly screwed with by 20th Century Fox, it’s sort of hard to take subversive co-writer/director Mike Judge (Office Space) and co-writer Etan Cohen (Tropic Thunder) to task for the obviously crude and partially unfinished CGI and some of the more questionable production values. And yet, some of the ramshackle qualities actually worked to the film’s benefit, and is in keeping with the silly, flippant, yet harsh tone. But repeatedly and rather strikingly, this film hits so many truthful notes of ugly, bitter humor that’s coming from an aggressively smart and all too honest place.
Luke Wilson plays an amazingly average military desk jockey who decides to take part in an experiment where he’s frozen in a top secret government program. When the morons running the project forget to thaw him out, he’s left on ice until the year 3001, where he’s unleashed upon a society consisting solely of complete and utter fools. He’s the smartest man in the world, and the film chronicles his desperate attempts to try and find a time machine to get back home while evading various idiocies that are thrown his way. It’s pointless to try and rehash the hilarious bits and pieces of this punishingly funny movie, but make no mistake – this film is a glorious PISSER. It also has the potential to anger a lot of people, especially those of us who don’t want to be reminded of how astonishingly accurate this film is, and how it seems to be correctly predicting where much of our society is heading – into a field of dead crops being hydrated by Brawndo.
And I’d just like to make it be known that I saw this film, in the theater on opening weekend at a total shitplex in Sherman Oaks – I’m very happy to have contributed to its $495,303 worldwide box office gross. It’s ridiculous how Fox treated this film, and while I’ll never personally be privy to the behind the scenes issues that plagued this project, there are SO MANY AWFUL movies that get made and released on a WEEKLY basis, so it’s totally crazy to think that a film this smart, this bold, and this consistently funny would get the red-headed step-child treatment. I’m also not sure if I’ve ever seen a studio film so lovingly bite the hand that’s feeding it; the level of corporate disdain that Idiocracy revels in is bracing to behold. The film also went by the titles The United States of Uhh-merica and 3001 at various stages of development/production. Idiocracy is a film that began its life as a piece of fiction, but has actually revealed itself to be a documentary in hiding.
Dennis Hopper’s gritty cop movie Colors, released in 1988 to critical acclaim and strong box office, is precisely the sort of film not being made today and precisely the sort of film that I would pay to see on the big screen, as opposed to another tired, CGI-infested remake or bloated sequel. Featuring a live-wire Sean Penn and an extra-sage Robert Duvall as down and dirty Los Angeles cops taking on some of the worst of the worst, this is an explosive, extremely violent movie with a strong screenplay by Michael Schiffer (Crimson Tide, Lean on Me), and evocative, stylish lensing by legendary cinematographer Haskell Wexler. Examining the intense rivalry between the Bloods and the Crips and never stopping to pull any punches, Schiffer’s sharp script and Hopper’s attuned direction really demonstrated a true sense of authenticity, with the various sequences detailing gang life feeling all too believable and more than a tad sad and scary. There’s also a fabulous supporting cast peppered with familiar faces and character actors from the day, including Don Cheadle, Glenn Plummer, Grand Bush, Trinidad Silva, Randy Brooks, Damon Wayans, and Mario Lopez. Oh, and massive Maria Conchito Alonso POWER, too. For some reason, studios decided to stop making policiers, which have found their true home on television, but I am always down for a cinematic cop and crime story, and this is definitely one of the better genre entries I can think of. The period-appropriate and extremely lively soundtrack seals the deal while Robert Estrin’s tight editing keeps a crackling pace. Available on DVD, this one really deserves an American release Special Edition Blu-ray, as I gather there’s a UK blu available for those across the pond or living REGION FREE POWER…
John Madden’s Killshot went through the ninth ring of production hell before it was finally released in 07 or so, after like three years of gathering dust on the shelf. The resulting film didn’t win anyone over who waited all that time with baited breath, because you can see the cuts, chops and gaps in story where it’s been muddled around with, no doubt by the fuckwit studio. I still love it, flaws and all. Based on an Elmore Leonard tale (you can never go wrong with his work, it’s a sombre tale of psychopaths, assassins and one hapless estranged couple (Thomas Jane & Diane Lane) caught in between. When legendary native american hitman Arman ‘The Blackbird’ Degas (Mickey Rourke) botches a job for the Toronto mafia, he’s forced on the run, and hides out with aimless young lunatic
criminal Ritchie Nix (Joseph Gordon Levitt), who somewhat reminds him of a litte brother he lost years before. Rourke pulls off the native angle quite well, and shows vague glimpses of a humanity that was once there and has long since been buried in violence. When Jane and Lane accidentally witness him murder someone, he won’t let it go, pursuing them beyond rationality or reason, even to his own end. Levitt never gets to play the wild card, and he rocks his redneck sociopath brat role with scary aplomb. Rosario Dawson has an odd appearance as Ritchie’s girlfriend, an elvis fan who is seemingly a little bit challenged upstairs. Watch for a cameo from Hal Holbrook as a crusty old mobster too. You’ll just have to imagine the federal agent character played by Johnny Knoxville though, because he never made it into the film and can now only be seen in ages old trailers that were a false start. Despite it’s issues, I find it to be an atmospheric little pulp outing that does have the classic Leonard feel, a hard bitten, cold-hearted turn from Rourke that’s one of his best characters in recent years, and a mean, unforgiving narrative set in picturesque northern Canada. Give it a shot, it deserves way more love than its received so far.
He’s back, baby. God it’s so good to see Jason Bourne doing his thing on the big screen again, especially in a flick that’s every bit as excellent as the original trilogy in all the old, good ways, while adding a few twists of its own that suit the digital age we have progressed into, and the concerns which go hand in hand with it. It’s been sometime since Jason swam away out of frame as an unsure news report claimed that his body was never recovered, and a slow smirk spread over Nicky Parson’s (Julia Stiles) face as she observed on TV. With ex CIA director Kramer (Scott Glenn) no doubt incarcerated, the agency is headed up by the worst apple of the bunch so far, Robert Dewey (Tommy Lee Jones), a surveillance hound dog who has ties to Bourne’s past and wants to use a record breaking social media app to illegally spy on users for ‘national security’ purposes (heard that one before). Scary stuff, but simply a backdrop for Bourne to come speeding back onto their radar and make hell for them, after Nicky hacks the database and spurs him on. Damon is beefed up, weathered and has never been more furious as Bourne, and if you thought his revenge rampage in Supremacy was something to behold, just wait til you see these fireworks. It feels a bit more intimate than the last three, with a lot of time spent on Bourne, and less agency types howling in control rooms and backstabbing each other, save for Dewey and his eager beaver protégé Heather Lee, played by Alicia Vikander in a slightly perplexing character arc that I’m still trying to think through. She has her own agenda, clashing with that of a ruthless rogue asset (Vincent Cassel is going grey, but damn he can still run around like nobody’s business) that Dewey foolishly sends after Jason. Paul Greengrass is back in the director’s chair again, and after this chapter I can honestly say I think he’s the best captain to ever sit at the helm of a Bourne flick. He just has this way with action that never feels too stylized or obviously cinematic, while still delivering a pure rush of thrills that exist in a realistic space. There’s an early scene taking place in Greece during a dangerous riot that feels like they just dropped the cast and crew in the midst of a real life police skirmish and started shooting, in more ways than one. My favourite has to be a thundering car chase down the Vegas Strip in which a SWAT tank causes a jaw dropping bout of vehicular Armageddon. Sounds too over the top for a Bourne flick, right? You’d think, but somehow they just make the thing work and stay within the parameters of this world. I had this fear that they wouldn’t be able sneak another Bourne movie onto the back end of an already perfect trilogy without it feeling out of place. While it certainly is different than it’s predecessors (we live in a radically different time), it still has that magic, feverish rush that I love so much and that has carried the franchise along on wings of adrenaline. A blast. Cue Moby’s Extreme Ways to play out my review.
Jason Bourne is a hard-charging action film, and even if it doesn’t have the narrative complexity and overall depth that series architect Tony Gilroy brought to the table, the film operates as a riveting spy actioner with topical overtones, a serious examination of government surveillance crossed with a straight-ahead revenge plot, and features two absolutely outstanding set-pieces that certainly top anything in the real-deal action department that I’ve seen all year. By this point, you’re either on board with this franchise or you’re not; this film won’t win any new fans but those who want to know a bit more about David Webb should be very pleased. What it really does is provide a sense of bridging from one trilogy to the next. If Identity, Supremacy, and Ultimatum are the spine to the overarching plot, and Legacy served as a daring extension of the universe, the aptly titled Jason Bourne pivots into a new chapter of espionage for one of cinema’s most lethal of characters, taking things in a more stripped-down and personal direction. Written this time around by directorial mastermind Paul Greengrass and the brilliant editor Chris Rouse (who won the Oscar for his astonishing work on Ultimatum), the tense plot relies on terse dialogue and lots of visual storytelling, sending Bourne on a rather violent mission of retribution.
Alicia Vikander, Vincent Cassel and Tommy Lee Jones are the new and dangerous faces trying to bring Bourne down, and all deliver strong supporting turns, while series regular Julia Stiles returns and features prominently in one of the big action sequences, a motorcycle and auto chase through the crowded, rioting streets of Athens. In this sequence, and the crash ‘em up wowser set along the Vegas strip, Greengrass further demonstrates how he is at the top of the class in terms of action filmmaking, displaying an uncanny sense of verisimilitude that nearly becomes overwhelming. His trademark shaky-cam shooting style, this time orchestrated by genius lenser Barry Ackroyd (United 93, The Hurt Locker, The Wind that Shakes the Barley), is in full-effect all throughout, with the propulsive musical score by John Powell and David Buckley backing up every foot pursuit, computer hack, and fist fight. I’ll always be a fan of Greengrass’ intensely visceral aesthetic, and it was sort of wild to see him get into Michael Bay mode during the finale, as he stages one of the most spectacular crunched-metal/broken-glass displays of vehicular mayhem since Bad Boys II. It’s the most over the top sequence in any of the five films, and yet, it packs a serious punch and still felt totally believable within its own realm.
And that’s what I love about these movies. Whatever CGI is used is totally invisible – these are pristine looking works of visual art that border on the level of expressionistic filmic creation with the use of fragmented information. The technology on display is scarily, almost obsessively showcased, and while “it’s just a movie,” I have no doubt that much of what we see in Jason Bourne is based off of current research. Damon totally commands the screen in every outing; this is his signature role and he knows it and as a result feels wholly committed to the character and all of its facets. And it’s clear that his run of movies as the titular hero isn’t going to slowdown anytime soon, as this newest addition grossed a robust $60 million on opening weekend, all but ensuring future installments. And I like where this one leaves off, with the promise of Vikander looking to muck things up for Bourne, and Greengrass getting a chance to inject more real-world vitality into this already pumped-up and thrilling franchise. Jason Bourne may not reinvent the wheel, but it serves as a very skilled piece of craftsmanship and a smart reconfiguration of the key ingredients so that by the end, we’re already asking for more.
I remember seeing the edgy character posters for Robert Rodriguez’s Sin City hanging on the movie theatre wall when I was younger, having no idea what Sin City was or any knowledge of the books, but thinking they looked incredibly cool and enticing. Then the trailer came out, and it was all I could think, talk or breathe about for months leading up to its release. I was obsessed. When opening weekend arrived I got my dad to take me, and spent two unforgettable hours of cinematic nirvana in a dark auditorium that was packed to the gills with fans old and young alike, each basking in the delectable black, white and colour speckled glow of the piece unfolding in front of us. I had never seen anything like it, and it blew my system into sensory orbit like nothing had before. Around this time I was just discovering a lot of Rodriguez’s and Tarantino’s career, poring over pulp and crime thrillers from all across the decades as my love for cinema expanded, and this was something I just knew would be special as soon as I saw that first provocative teaser poster. The innovation and artistic ambition used by the ever resourceful Rodriguez and his team led to gleaming critical reception, a massive box office hit and one of the most gorgeous pieces of art in the motion picture realm. His decision to simply lift the still frames out of Frank Miller’s graphic novels was something that not every director would be able to go along with, let alone wrap their minds around (director’s are a finicky lot who always have thir own bright ideas, even when the source material is already gold). Rodriguez was so in love with the books that he envisioned them onscreen just the way they were drawn, and that’s pretty much what you get in the film. The pre-credit sequence sets the dark, vibrant, moody and impossibly lurid setting of Basin City, a rotting heap of corruption where almost everyone is either corrupt, sleazy or just outright evil, and even the ones that aren’t deal out some pretty heinous bouts of violence themselves. The prologue involves girl in in a red dress (Marley Shelton) conversing with a mysterious, well dressed man (Josh Hartnett). The scene takes a turn for the dark and tragic, we zoom out as Rodriguez’s self composed gutter lullaby of a score grinds into motion, and the glowering opening credits trundle by, a moment of a pure joy for anyone watching. The film is separated into three central vignettes, each from a different volume of the comics. The first, and strongest, features a sensational Mickey Rourke as Marv, a hulking bruiser built like six linebackers and basically impervious to anything that could kill a human being. After a heavenly night with hooker Goldie (Jaime King), he wakes up to find her lying dead next to him, not a mark on her. This gives his set of talents a purpouse beyond bar fights and roughing up abusive frat boys, and he wages a war of ultraviolence in her name, to his grave if he must. There are some villains in these stories that seem to be dredged up from the very bottom of the last pit of hell, just the worst of humanity’s many deplorable qualities. Marv eventually runs into evil arch bishop Cardinal Roark (a devious Rutger Hauer) and insane cannibal ninja sicko Kevin (Elijah Wood will haunt your nightmares)., on his bloody quest. Rourke’s genius even shines out through 12 pounds of prosthetic makeup slapped all over his mug, and he captures the wayward warrior soul in Marv, a restless anger and old school, Charles Bronson esque charm by way of Frankenstein’s monster. His work is a great way to kick off the first third of the film, and the gravelly narration hits you right in the film noir nostalgia. The second segment is a lot more lively, with far more people running around, sans the melancholy of Rourke’s bit, and instead emblazoned with a war cry of a story starring Clive Owen as Dwight, a hotshot tough guy who gets on the wrong side of seriously scummy dirty cop Jackie Boy (a growling Benicio Del Toro having a ball) who likes to beat up on waitress Shelley (Brittany Murphy). Dwight pursues him to Old Town, a district run by lethal militant prostitutes lead by no nonsense Gail (Rosario Dawson can use that whip and chain on me anytime). Then everything goes haywire (I won’t say why), and Michael Clarke Duncan gets involved as a weirdly articulate, golden eye sporting otherworldly mercenary named Manute. This middle section is the one that feels most like a comic book, where as the other too have more of a noir flavor, like their old Hollywood roots. The third and most depraved chapter (which is no light statement in this town), sees aging Detective John Hartigan (Bruce Willis) lay his life down in order to protect young Nancy Callahan from a terrifying pedophile child killer (Nick Stahl) who is the spawn of despicable US Senator Roark (Powers Boothe sets up a cameo of the pure evil he would go on to exude with his much larger role in the sequel). Jessica Alba plays the adult version of Nancy, now an exotic dancer and once again in danger from Stahl, who now has some… interesting changes to bis appearance, courtesy of genital mutilation from Hartigan years before. It’s one demented set of stories that would be almost too much to take in the real world, but this is Sin City, a realm that exists in the darkest dreams of Raymond Chandler and his ilk, a seething netherworld of stunningly beautiful women, ghastly corruption and terror, and good deeds that go unheralded in the night, bloody retribution perpetrated by antiheros and tragic scapegoats who know damn well what a pit of hell their town is, and that nobility is but a drop in the bucket of injustice they wade through on their way to violent exodus. The cast list goes on for miles longer than I’ve mentioned so far, but look out for Alexis Bledel, Carla Gugino, Michael Madsen, Jude Ciccollela, Nicky Katt, Nick Offerman, Tommy Flanagan and Devon Aoki as Miho, a deadly little hooker assassin who can turn you into a pez dispenser with her razor sharp katana. The level of violence on display throughout the film is so far over the top that after a while it seems almost Looney Toons in nature. Throats are slashed, heads are removed, testicles are ripped off, skulls are crushed and all manner of maiming and murder inflicted. What made it acceptable with the ever gay MPAA though is the fact that mic of it exists in the black and white mode of visual storytelling, and only a few instances of actual red blood seen. That goes for more than just the violence though in terms of color. Amid the sea of stark black and white there are beautiful hidden gems of colour that you have to train your eye to find. A pair of green eyes, a crimson convertible cadillac, the sickly yellow pallor of Stahl’s mutated skin. That’s but a taste of the patchwork quilt of visual artistry you are treated to here, and has constantly been emulated in either work since, but never quite effectively as here. That’s the idea of it though, a heavily stylized piece of hard boiled neo noir that exists simply to plumb the very depths of darkest genre territory, do justice to Miller’s books with a laundry list of wicked actors, a bonus scene directed by Quentin Tarantino and a story that’s pure noir to its bloodstained bones.
Tony Scott’s Unstoppable was the maverick’s last directorial outing before his heartbreaking and untimely death. It’s ironic because the film’s title is a descriptive term I would have applied to the man’s career, life and approach to filmmaking. But it was not to be. This is some swan song of a film to go out on though, a pleasing juggernaut of an action drama that greases the tracks and goes full steam ahead. Any film about trains run amok will inevitably be compared to the 1984 masterpiece Runaway Train, and although this one is vastly different in both story and tone, they just seem to be sister films. The mournful, resolute nature of Jon Voight’s character in it just seems to echo the sadness surrounding this film, and the fact that it was Tony’s last. But that’s just my strange intuition talking. The film itself isn’t really melancholy or downbeat, in fact it focuses largely on human triumph in the face of gross error. There is in fact a runaway train on the loose here, but the stakes are upped when we find out that it’s packed to the brim with highly toxic and flammable chemicals, and hurtling unchecked towards a densely populated metropolitan area. Denzel Washington is the Everyman veteran railroad worker, in danger of having his job devoured by greedy corporate development and ready to have a meltdown. Chris Pine is the hothead rookie swaggering through his first month on throb, and together they have to deal with the disaster, and prevent any further outcome. Rosario Dawson is the frantic control station operator, trying to coach two other workers (Lew Temple & Ethan Suplee) and help as best she can. Kevin Dunn is the abrasive company CEO, unwilling to get his hands dirty and callously looking for the first readily available solution, even if it results in mild casualties that he doesn’t have to witness. It’s all been done before, no doubt, but not by Scott, and you can never write off a formula, trope or act n cliche as dead until the maverick has had a good crack at it. The scenes involving the train are breathless and edited with a glass shard explosiveness, never to shaky or chaotic, always in control and bursting from the frames like the speeding locomotive they encompass. Look out for Jeff Wincott as Pine’s older brother, as well as Kevin Corrigan, T.J. Miller and David Warshofsky as well. It’s not a bad little flick for a director to put the final seal on his career with, and stands as a wrecking ball of an action flick. I just wish we got to see more from the guy. RIP Tony.
Fire With Fire is one in a long string of recent direct to video flicks that Bruce Wilis seems oddly intent on appearing in. Some are cool (Catch 44), some are halfassed (The Prince) and some are just plain poo (Set Up). This one falls in the first category. It’s an overblown and unbelievable little thriller but it has a great cast on it’s side, and when you score Vincent Donofrio for your villain role, you’ll always at least have some merit. The story is pure B movie: a studly firefighter (Josh Dumahel) ends up seeing something he shouldn’t and gets on the wrong side of a vicious neo nazi psychopath (Donofrio) and his crew. Just his luck though, as his foxy girlfriend (Rosario Dawson) happens to be an FBI agent working on a task force headed up by a gruff senior operative (Bruce Willis). Willis has been trying to nail Donofrio and his gang for years, and he finally has a handy little firefighter witness to testify. Donofrio won’t stop though, making their lives hell as he shakes their shit up right left and center. He’s a hell of an actor, especially when playing the baddie (his turns in The Cell, Daredevil, The Salton Sea and Men In Black are legendary), and this loose cannon weirdo white supremacist nut job is one more to add to the canon. Duhamel does his classic laid back pretty boy thing, Dawson is tough and oh so attractive as always, and Willis dials up the grumpy metre for a nice little jaded turn that i actually really enjoyed. Vinnie Jones lends his mug to the role of second in command, 50 Cent shows up (wherever Willis and Deniro go in B movie land, he unnervingly seems to tag along), and watch for more work from Quinton ‘Rampage’ Jackson, Julian McMahon, Richard Schiff, Arie Verveen and Kevin Dunn. I like the chaotic formula employed here: a bunch of characters running around, large cast, flashy violent spectacle, flamboyant villain. It almost seems like a 70’s genre piece, and I’d love to have seen a hand drawn, retro style poster with a bunch of stuff sprawled together in a mural like those old school flicks used to do. It sure would beat the generic, vanilla design they went with and I feel like the film deserves more. Great stuff.
We are incredibly proud to present our podcast with veteran actor Steve Railsback. Steve has been in everything, from Richard Rush’s THE STUNTMAN, to Toby Hooper’s LIFEFORCE, Todd Solondz’s STORYTELLING, Rob Zombie’s THE DEVIL’S REJECTS, HELTER SKELTER, BARBWIRE, ED GEIN, IN THE LINE OF FIRE, and an important arc as Duane Barry in THE X-FILES. Steve gives a candid, hilarious, and heartfelt account of his incredible career speaking at length about working with Elia Kazan, Richard Rush, Clint Eastwood, and how Chris Carter specifically courted him for the role of Duane Barry. We hope you have as much fun listening to this as we did recording it!
Podcasting Them Softly 