John Boorman’s The Emerald Forest: A Review by Nate Hill

  
John Boorman’s The Emerald Forest is the kind of exotic, intoxicating, wildly adventurous, unbelievable and unforgettable film that comes along once in a decade, if that. These days this sort of film would be gilded to the hilt with unnecessary Cgi, a burden which filmmakers just can’t seem to free themselves from in this age. Back in 1985, they had to use what they had, filling every frame with on-location authenticity, genuine realism which prompts a feeling of wonder and sense of mysticism from the viewer, which any computer generated effort just cannot compete with (I will concede that this year’s The Jungle Book came up aces, so there are a few cutting edge exceptions). This film is quite the undertaking for both cast and crew, and one can see from scene to scene the monumental effort and passion that went into bringing this story alive. It’s also partly based on true events, adding to the resonance. Powers Boothe plays technical engineer Bill Markham, who is living with wife (Meg Foster) and two small children in Brazil, while he designs plans for a great river dam which will allow further development. One day, on a picnic at the edge of the rainforest, his son Tommy disappears, after spotting an elusive tribe of Natives. Gone with no trace but an arrow lodged in a nearby tree, Bill launches a search for his son that spans a decade, returning year after year to probe the vast, untamed jungle in hopes of somehow finding Tommy. Tommy, now a young man and played by the director’s son Charley Boorman, has been adopted and raised by the kindly tribe, known as ‘The Invisible People’ for they way they remain unseen as they move about their home in the forests. Tommy is very much one of them, taken up their customs and traditions, with nothing but vague memories of Bill in his dreams, which he doesn’t believe to have actually happened. One day in the hostile territory of ‘The Fierce People’, Tommy and Bill are reunited, Tommy taking his wounded father to his home village. Bill is heartbroken that his son is essentially no longer his, conflicted by the situation. Tommy has just entered his life as a man, taking a gorgeous wife (Dira Paes) from his village and starting a future. Trouble brews as The Fierce People threaten Tommy’s village, and their women, prompting him to seek Bill’s help. It’s interesting to see how a tribe who have had little to no contact with the outside world react to it, calling it ‘the dead world’ and referring to the developers as the Termite People who cut down the grandfather trees. The environmental message is never preachy, always feeling like a vital and important truth that is organic and unforced, emerging through the characters and their interactions. The Natives possess an innate spirituality and connection to the intangible which we have forgotten as progress alters us, still rooted deeply in forces beyond our 21st century comprehension. Boothe is deeply affecting in one of his best roles, a desperate father through and through, while also filling out the broad shoes of the wilderness adventurer he has become over the years. He fills his performance with pathos, longing and is the emotional soul of the piece. Boorman is spry and takes up the aura of Tommy well, mastering the complex linguistics and mannerisms of the tribe admirably. One of my favourite aspects of the film is its exquisite and moving score, the main theme evoking wild romanticism, old world secrets and the unending beauty of nature so well that one feels goosebumps as if we’re really there in that setting. Pure cinematic magic, a timeless story told without flaw or hitch, and a breathtaking piece of film. 

B Movie Glory with Nate: Wyvern

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As far as SyFy Channel flicks go, Wyvern is a really not bad little effort, kind of like North Of 60 meets Reign Of Fire. It concerns a group of people in a small Alaskan town who come across an ancient beast called a Wyvern, which is basically a winged serpent dragon that breathes fire and causes all manner of havoc for the local residents. The melting ice caps have caused a great thawing, in which this creature has been freed from its icy prison, now roaming the land, barbequing livestock and being a great big nuisance. Local trucker Jake Suttner (Nick Chinlund) bands together with rowdy outdoorsman Hass (Barry Corbin), Claire (Erin Karpluk) and eccentric ex army curmudgeon Colonel Travis Sherman (Major Briggs himself, the late great Don S. Davis). It’s a pleasent affair as far as horror/sci fi flicks go, with likable characters, not too much gore or unpleasantness, and that small town vibe of comfort that helps you care for the people in such a silly movie. One of SyFy’s best in recent years.

DANNY DEVITO’S DEATH TO SMOOCHY — A REVIEW BY NICK CLEMENT

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Death to Smoochy has got to be one of the ultimate “love it or hate it” movies. I think it’s absolutely hysterical and one of the funniest, sharpest critiques of pop culture entertainment that’s been put up on the big screen in years. Mercilessly directed by Danny DeVito and written seemingly without limits by Adam Resnick, the film opened to savage reviews and audience indifference back in 2002, but for me, easily ranks as one of the craziest black comedies in recent memory. Starring Robin Williams, in one of his absolute best performances, as a cracked-out and morally bankrupt children’s TV show host named Rainbow Randolph, the story charts his very public firing due to an off-camera bribery scandal, while detailing the rivalry that erupts between him and his replacement, a completely naive and ridiculous Edward Norton, doing unexpectedly great comedic work as a simpleton with his own costumed creation: Smoochy the dinosaur. The supporting cast was superb, with the likes of extra-sardonic Jon Stewart (dig the bowl cut!) and extra-hot Catherine Keener delivering some scaborous jabs towards at the TV industry, both playing jaded and cynical network execs who are mostly only interested in the bottom line. But the film is repeatedly stolen by the great character actor Michael Rispoli, who portrays a punch-drunk and mostly deaf former boxer who takes a shine to Norton and the Smoochy character, and who wants to get in on the fun himself. How his character is integrated into the plot yields some serious laughs. Pam Ferris, Harvey Fierstein and Vincent Schiavelli all landed some great jokes with perfect comic timing.

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Death to Smoochy is a film that revels in its cruelty, delighting in the pschological terrorization of children, the mental anguish of numerous adult characters, and brazen comic violence that pushes the limits of taste and respectability on more than one occasion. In short, it’s fun for the entire family! It’s no surprise that DeVito ended up on the long running FX comedy series It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, as all of Death to Smoochy feels like it was cut from the same exuberantly devilish cloth as that wild and woolly show. The dynamite script leveld insults at everyone, never backing down from any challenge it presented to itself within the narrative, and finding the perfect balance between funny-nasty and outright off-putting. Cinematographer Anastas N. Michos knew exactly how to capture the harsh light of a TV soundstage, giving the picture a sickly visual texture that extends to the grotesque actions of the characters. The purposefully tacky production design was spot on, too. And damn, it really can’t be undersold how sexy Keener was here; she’d do similarly icy-hot work in Being John Malkovich, 8mm, Your Friends and Neighbors, and Full Frontal, before dropping a charming bomb in The 40 Year Old Virgin. This is a ribald, filthy, risk-taking, and completely mean spirited film, crafted with an anarchic spirit all throughout, and a work that deserved to gross a lot more than $9 million at the domestic box-office.

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INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1956) – A REVIEW BY J.D. LAFRANCE

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There have been three remakes of the classic 1956 film, Invasion of the Body Snatchers — 1979, 1994, and 2007 respectively. This does not include the countless rip-offs and homages that have been made since the original graced the screen: some good (They Live), some bad (The Astronaut’s Wife) and some just plain ugly (Body Snatchers). By far the superior film in every way is the 1956 version directed by Don Siegel, which continues to thrill and entertain while hopeless rehashes like Abel Ferrara’s film try in vain to recapture the power and the impact of its predecessor. What Ferrara and other imitators don’t understand is that extravagant special effects and elaborate chases do not compensate for a non-existent story and weak characters — something that Siegel understood implicitly and wisely avoided in his film.

Adapted from Jack Finney’s excellent novel The Body Snatchers (1954), Siegel’s film is the best of all the versions made because it is the most faithful to the novel. The film begins with suspenseful music while the credits are shown over a sky filled with rushing clouds. After the credits end we meet a frantic Dr. Miles Bennell (Kevin McCarthy) who is being questioned by the police. When a psychiatrist arrives Miles goes wild, until reassured that his story will be heard. What follows is a flashback account of how Dr. Bennell, with the help of an old girlfriend, Becky Driscoll (Dana Wynter) uncover a secret plot by aliens from outer space to take over the inhabitants of the small town of Santa Mira. It is a subtle invasion that at first glance does not appear to be that much of a threat, but as Miles and Becky soon discover, its implications reach far and wide, threatening not only close friends like Jack and “Teddy” Belicec (King Donovan and Carolyn Jones), but all of humanity.

Like the novel, Invasion of the Body Snatchers is a real marvel of pacing — achieved by gradually building the suspense, until the tension is too much. When Miles begins to tell his story, he starts by saying, “At first glance everything looked the same. It wasn’t. Something evil had taken possession of the town.” While these words are spoken, Siegel presents an ordinary looking small town. Miles’ words are a teaser that makes us curious. We want to know what this evil force is, how it has taken the town captive, and why it seems so normal. It is this curiosity that draws us into the story. At first everything seems normal, but little details appear that suggest otherwise. Maybe it is the scared child running out in front of Miles’ car, the same boy who later claims that his mother is not his mother, crying, “Don’t let her get me!” These events are all warning signs that point to a larger, impending danger that threatens the small town.

The film’s inception lies in the hands of producer Walter Wanger who had read Finney’s story in its original serial form in Collier’s magazine. He felt that it would make a good low-budget film for Allied Artists and asked Don Siegel to direct. After convincing screenwriter Daniel Mainwaring to join the production, the film began to take shape. From the start, the three men shared the same approach to the material. Their intention was to have the film act as a metaphor for the way “the majority of people in the world unfortunately are pods, existing without any intellectual aspirations and incapable of love,” remembers Siegel.

Originally, producer Walter Wanger and director Don Siegel wanted to shoot Invasion of the Body Snatchers on location in Jack Finney’s model for Santa Mira, Mill Valley, just north of San Francisco. In the first week of January 1955, Siegel, Wagner, and screenwriter Daniel Mainwaring visited Finney to talk about the film version and to take a look at Mill Valley. The location proved to be too expensive and Siegel and some Allied Artists executives found locations resembling Mill Valley in nearby Sierra Madre, Chatsworth, Glendale, the Los Feliz neighborhood, and in Bronson and Beachwood Canyons. However, much of the film was shot in the Allied Artists studio on the east side of Hollywood. Invasion of the Body Snatchers was originally budgeted for a 24-day schedule at $454,864 and the studio asked Wanger to cut the budget significantly. The producer proposed a shooting schedule of 20 days and a budget of $350,000.

Initially, Wanger considered Gig Young, Dick Powell, Joseph Cotton, and several others for the role of Miles. For Becky, he thought of casting Anne Bancroft, Donna Reed, Kim Hunter, Vera Miles, and others. With the lower budget, Wanger had to abandon these choices and cast Richard Kiley who had just starred in Phoenix City Story for Allied Artists. Kiley turned the role down and Wanger cast two relative newcomers in the lead roles: Kevin McCarthy, who had just starred in Siegel’s Annapolis Story (1955), and Dana Wynter, who had done several major dramatic roles on television but had not done a film.

The film was shot in 23 days between March 23, 1955 and April 18. The cast and crew worked a six-day week with only Sundays off. The production went over schedule by three days because of night-for-night shooting that Siegel wanted. The final budget was $382,190. Siegel used his lack of budget and unknown actors to create an authentic, natural feeling of normalcy to the proceedings. This became one of the strengths of the film. We so easily believe that this is Smalltown, U.S.A. that when the horror of what is really happening becomes apparent the shock is that much more significant. Siegel, a former special effects expert, knew full well the pitfalls of relying too much on effects and not on the plot. “Instead of doing what so many science fiction and horror films do — spend all their money on special effects and put poor actors on the screen — we concentrated on the performers. The main thing about the picture, however, was that it was about something and that’s rare.” And so Siegel actually used the handicap of a small budget to his advantage by downplaying the special effects in favor of creating strong, three-dimensional characters and telling a suspenseful, often scary story.

The project was originally called, The Body Snatchers after the Finney serial. However, Wanger wanted to avoid confusion with the Val Lewton 1945 horror film with a very similar title. The producer was unable to come up with a title and accepted the studio’s choice, They Come from Another World that was assigned in summer 1955. Siegel protested this title and suggest two alternatives: Better Off Dead and Sleep No More, while Wanger offered Evil in the Night and World in Danger. None of these were chosen as the studio finally settled on Invasion of the Body Snatchers in late 1955. Wanger saw the final cut in December 1955 and protested the use of the Superscope format. Its use had been a part of the early plans for the film but the first print was not made until December. Wanger felt that the film lost sharpness and detail. Siegel had originally shot Invasion of the Body Snatchers in the 1.85:1 aspect ratio. The Superscope look was a post-production lab process designed to make the film resemble the popular Cinemascope format.

The studio scheduled three previews for the film on the last days of June and the first day of July 1955. According to Wanger’s memos at the time, the previews were successful. However, later reports by Mainwaring and Siegel contradict this, claiming that audiences could not follow the film and laughed in the wrong places. In response, the studio removed much of the film’s humor, “humanity”, and “quality”, according to Wanger. He scheduled another preview in mid-August that did not go well. The studio decided to change the film’s title to a more conventional science fiction one. In later interviews, Siegel pointed out that it was studio policy not to mix humor with horror. Both Siegel and Mainwaring were satisfied with the film as shot. It was originally intended to end with Miles screaming hysterically as truckloads of pods pass him by. The studio, wary of such a pessimistic conclusion, insisted on adding a prologue and epilogue to the movie that suggested a more optimistic outcome to the story which is thus told mainly in flashback. Siegel decided to shoot these scenes because he knew the studio would put them in regardless and if he filmed them then perhaps he could do a little damage control. Mainwaring scripted this framing story and Siegel shot it on September 16, 1955 at Allied Artists.

Siegel had problems with these sequences because as he saw it, they let “you know right away that something unusual is going on. If you start, as I wanted to, with McCarthy arriving in the town of Santa Mira, it reveals it slowly, we understand why McCarthy can’t readily accept the terrible thing that appears to be happening. And the dramatic impact of the ending is reduced with the epilogue.” Allied Artist also made Siegel cut out a lot of the humor in the film, but enough survived for the director’s intended effect. “I felt the idea of pods growing into a likeness of a person would strike the characters as preposterous. I wanted to play it that way,” Siegel remembers, “with the characters not taking the threat seriously. For example, if you told me now that there was a pod in my likeness in the other room, I would joke about it. However, when I opened the door and saw the pod, the full shock and horror would hit me and the fun would be gone. I wanted the people in the film to behave like normal people.” Despite the studio’s constant meddling, Siegel managed to create an impressive film whose impact has not diminished over the years.

In addition to these bookends, Wanger wanted to add a variety of speeches and prefaces. He suggested a voice-over introduction for Miles. While the film was being shot, Wanger tried to get permission in England to use a Winston Churchill quotation as a preface to the film. The producer also tried to get Orson Welles to voice the preface and a trailer for the film. He wrote speeches for Welles’ opening on June 15, 1955 and spent considerable time trying to convince Welles to do it but was unsuccessful and considered science fiction author Ray Bradbury instead but this also did not happen. Mainwaring eventually wrote the voice-over narration himself. The shorter version of the film was often rerun late at night on T.V. stations and one PBS showing in 1988. The full theatrical version was not widely released until 1978 when a remake was produced starring Donald Sutherland.

By giving us only bits and pieces at a time, Siegel slowly begins to reveal the threat of alien invasion. People act normal enough, but something is slightly askew. People seem to have emotions, but as one character observes, “There is just the pretense of it.” Body Snatchers feeds on our fear of dehumanization and conformity — not only of ourselves, but our family and friends. A lot of the suspense in the film is derived from the fact that the characters must stay awake to remain human; to sleep means becoming a pod. Sleep is an important motif of the film, to the point where Siegel originally wanted it to be called Sleep No More, a reference to Shakespeare’s play, Macbeth. For Siegel, sleep is a metaphor for conformity or the stifling of any intellectual curiosity. People often sleepwalk through their whole lives — never truly alive. And like Miles in the film, we are surrounded daily by these intellectual sleepers, being subtly invaded by their ever-growing numbers. Again, the studio stepped in and imposed a more science fiction/horror-like title which the filmmaker had no choice but to accept.

Despite the compromises Siegel was forced to make, his original intentions were not diminished. Through subtle references and imagery, he managed to convey his fears of conformity and present the solution to this problem in the form of its hero: Miles Bennell who embodies individuality and humanity — something that the pods (read modern industrial society) try to destroy. Unfortunately, Invasion of the Body Snatchers was not blessed with a big budget or big name stars and as a result critics and box office success ignored it upon initial release. Over the years, film buffs and student groups began to take interest in the film and an ever-growing cult following developed leading to its rediscovery in the 1960s by French New Wave critics who declared it to be one of the best and most influential science fiction films of the 1950s, alongside such classics as The Thing (1951), The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), and Them! (1954).

bodysnatchers_1American critics underestimated the widespread influence it has had since its initial release. A much imitated (see The Hidden amongst many others) film, it still manages to captivate and delight people today. The film has been read on many different levels, most often as a subtext for protesting Senator Joseph McCarthy and his Red Scare mentality or as an anti-Communist allegory. First and foremost it is an entertaining film that blends a science fiction premise with film noir and horror elements (in particular, its use of unusual camera angles, close-ups, sharp editing, music, and lighting). Despite three remakes, the original film is the superior version because its director, Don Siegel understood Finney’s novel and was able to translate its intent successfully to the screen without relying on flashy special effects and trickery like so many contemporary science fiction films.

STANLEY DONEN’S TWO FOR THE ROAD — A REVIEW BY NICK CLEMENT

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Stanley Donen’s 1967 British marriage dramedy Two for the Road is a film that I feel like a schmuck for not seeing sooner. Written by Frederic Raphael (who would receive an Oscar nomination for his brilliant work and who would later collaborate with Stanley Kubrick on Eyes Wide Shut), the film is a witty, serious, subtle, and totally late ‘60’s style and acting piece with fabulous performances from Albert Finney, Audrey Hepburn, Eleanor Bron, William Daniels, and a child performance of purposefully staggering annoyance by Gabrielle Middleton, who you literally just want to leave on the side of the road. The film centers on a husband and wife (Finney and Hepburn) who begin to examine and reminisce about their 12 year relationship while taking an emotionally taxing trip to Southern France. Various events from their lives are crisscrossed throughout the script, with former lovers making appearances, potential new lovers becoming a possibility, and a constant sense of “anything-might-happen” driving the story. Raphael’s boldly non-linear screenplay makes some modern movies feel downright conventional, and I’d have to assume that back in the day, this narrative style really took people by surprise.

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The relationship on display is examined from multiple perspectives in multiple time periods, with both Finney and Hepburn running a gamut of emotions while hitting major life milestones, and contending with the birth of their daughter. Finney, in what can sort of be considered a warm up to his blistering work in Alan Parker’s 1982 masterpiece Shoot the Moon, is fantastic as a man caught between his desire to be a loving husband and the man who he believes he is deep down inside, even if that’s not who he is in actuality. Hepburn, stunningly photographed and costumed in every scene, gets lots of laughs and enjoys playful banter with Finney, while also getting a chance to explore her dramatic side, especially during the emotionally volatile last act. I loved how in certain scenes, Donen would edit a bit sooner than normal, thus forcing the viewer to put some of the story pieces together on their own, and while nothing is left up in the air, the way that Raphael devised his tricky but coherent screenplay allows for all sorts of speculation about what’s in store for the various characters by the film’s conclusion. The jaunty and spirited original score by Henry Mancini peppers each scene with distinct personality, and Donen’s New Wave-inspired aesthetic touches keep the film visually interesting and narratively unique. The film is also a feast for the eyes for anyone who considers themselves a vintage car enthusiast.

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The Onion Movie: A Review by Nate Hill

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That’s right, the Onion News Network made a movie, back in 2008, and it’s every bit as irreverent, satirical and wantonly bizarre as you would imagine. They have been comically killing it for years with their online platform, and the film is a nice extension of that. It’s episodic, meandering and devoid of plot, made up of many little sketches and vignettes, some gut bustingly funny, others just plain odd. I have three favourites which pretty much sum up their inane, Monty Python type shtick: An out of work actor named Bryce Brand (Nick Chinlund is priceless I  just a few minutes of screen time) arrives back home from drug rehab and is hounded by his agent to nab new scripts. He promptly falls into a weird new addiction that gets slapped sillily onto the headlines, thus ending his arc with deranged efficiancy. Steven Seagal shows up as a fat slob of an action hero aptly named ‘The Cock Puncher’, a lumbering buffoon who punches people in the cock, naturally. The third, and funniest sequence features a riff on the celebrity roasts of the 60’s, with some kind of amazing group of crusty old crooners hurling stinging and incredibly raunchy insults at each other with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It’s tough explain just how funny that bit is in a review, but suffice to say it had me roaring as loud as the obscene bunch of wrinkled baboons in the in the skit. There’s a plethora of other sequences which I’ve since gotten hazy about, but I remember many other instances of pure hilarity to be had. Watch for further celebrity appearances including Eric Stolhanske, Michael Bolton, Richard Fancy, Daniel Dae Kim, Brendan Fletcher, Rodney Dangerfield, Joel McHale and more. Side splitting stuff, if you’re into this type of humour.

NICOLAS ROEG’S THE WITCHES — A REVIEW BY NICK CLEMENT

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I can remember seeing Nicolas Roeg’s The Witches on opening day with my mother and sister back in late August of 1990 and I think I’m still losing some sleep over it. This is a funky, wild, frightening, and totally delightful family film that kids will be equal parts amazed and horrified by. And for just cause, as the human-to-mice transformation effects in this movie are bewildering and playfully creepy, all done in those glorious pre-CGI days where cinematic artisans and technicians all joined forces to create true movie magic before everyone got extra lazy by relying on computers to create their art. Based on the classic Roald Dahl book and produced by Jim Henson’s production company, this film sadly only grossed $10 million in the United States, as it was probably deemed too “British” or weird for most audiences. However, over the years, I’d like to think that it’s become a cult classic, as it represents the type of PG-rated filmmaking you rarely see these days. Anjelica Huston’s performance as the head witch haunted me for years, well before I knew who she “was” as an actress, while Rowan Atkinson provided all sorts of funny comic relief. But when you really boil it all down, this is a NASTY movie, centering on a witch population who are interested in destroying every child they can possibly find. There’s a sense of menace to much of this movie that always left me on edge but that always made me want to come back for repeat visits. The Witches was the final film that Henson worked on before his untimely death and the final theatrical film from production company Lorimar Productions. Apparently, Dahl wanted Cher for the lead role, but she was busy with other projects. The puppet work is extraordinary.

CALIFORNIA SPLIT – A REVIEW BY J.D. LAFRANCE

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“I’ve had a couple of good wins, but they don’t compare to the losses. People only remember the wins.” – Robert Altman

In the 1970s, Elliott Gould and Robert Altman were an unbeatable team. They first worked together on M*A*S*H (1970), a savage satire of the military, then again on a radical, contemporary reworking of Raymond Chandler’s novel The Long Goodbye (1973), and finally completed the hat trick with California Split (1974), an ode to obsessive gamblers. For years, this film has been relegated to obscurity, showing up occasionally on television and tied up in legal issues over the music, which delayed its release on DVD.

A nice, self-reflexive moment kicks things off: gambler and card shark, Charlie Waters (Elliott Gould) is killing time before a poker match by watching an instructional video on the game. The voiceover narration intones, “It has been said that everyone in America understands poker or wants to. It is one of America’s most popular games and since you’ve shown an obvious interest in coming here we have prepared a short film to teach you the fundamentals.” This voiceover could easily be talking to the audience watching this film as Altman introduces us to this world and the characters that inhabit it.

While this video is playing, Altman’s camera sweeps across the game room, setting the scene and introducing the film’s other main character, Bill Denny (George Segal). The video is also functional, providing a crash course on a couple of actual poker hands and the house rules. The opening poker game does a good job of showing the dynamics of professional poker playing and is also very funny as Charlie fleeces an irate player who then punches Bill, thinking that they are in league with each other. In a nice bit of business, a dazed Bill has enough sense to pick up his poker chips while all hell is breaking loose. For this scene, the poker club was built in a dance hall. Altman set up a few gambling situations and filmed them happening. None of the actual poker players’ dialogue was scripted.

Fed up with the unrealistic dialogue he and other actors were forced to say on a regular basis, struggling actor Joseph Walsh wrote a screenplay about his own gambling addiction in 1971. Steven Spielberg, fresh from directing the made-for-T.V. film Duel (1971), was originally supposed to direct. He and Walsh worked on the script every day for nine months. The director was fascinated by the characters and would react to Walsh’s script, offering suggestions. At the time, the screenplay was called Slide and the two men had a deal to make it at MGM with Walsh as producer and Steve McQueen in the starring role. The whole story was going to be set at Circus Circus in Las Vegas because the studio owned the casino.

A month before filming started, the studio experienced a shake-up at the executive level and with it came a new set of changes. MGM wanted the story to be a Mafia-related “sting” concept with Dean Martin as one of the two main characters. Walsh would no longer be the producer. He and Spielberg left MGM because he realized that they did not understand the point of the film: “I wanted the picture to be almost a celebration of the gambling, the joy of it, going along with it, and then, at the end, you could see where the trap comes in.” Spielberg and Walsh took the script to Universal Pictures where they had an agreement with executives Richard Zanuck and David Brown. However, Spielberg decided to work on another project called Lucky Lady (1975) leaving Walsh and his film stranded.

The writer’s agent, Guy McElwaine, contacted Altman’s agent, George Lito, and the director was given the script, read it and loved it. For years, he had wanted to do a gambling film with “the ambience of gambling, and then point out it had nothing to do with money.” He was drawn to Walsh’s script because he liked to gamble himself, his father was a gambler, and the director knew a lot of gamblers. David Begelman, the new studio chief of Columbia Pictures, was a former agent who knew Altman’s agent and greenlighted the screenplay to be made into a film. Walsh was a novice and unaware of Altman’s reputation for taking liberties with the scripts of for his films. However, Walsh was very protective of his script and argued with Altman numerous times over certain details. The only serious revisions to the script that the director made before filming were to background scenes. The writer had seen other Altman films and wasn’t always satisfied with how these scenes played out. He told the director that they could be changed but that he would rewrite them. Walsh wrote a full script for the background scenes, three to four page scenes for good actors to play.

George Segal was cast early on and Altman mentioned Gould but Walsh, even though he was childhood friends with the actor, held back. Altman and Walsh saw other actors, like Peter Falk and Robert De Niro, but kept coming back to Gould. Finally, the actor called Walsh and convinced him that he was right for the role. According to Walsh, on the set, Gould was full of confidence while Segal was insecure. The writer remembers that on the first day of shooting Gould “was there as that character…After seven days, George Segal came to me and said, ‘This guy’s [Gould] unbelievable. He’s an octopus. He is absolutely strangling me to death. I don’t even know what to do.’” Walsh told Segal that Gould had lived the life of his character and said, “Don’t try to act with him, don’t try to outdeal him…be off-base – just what you’re feeling – and it’s all working.”

Altman employed members of Synanon, the rehab organization of former convicts and addicts, as extras. The organization received a flat sum and delivered as many as needed each day. California Split marked the first time Altman experimented with the use of the eight-track sound system that allowed eight separate audio channels to be recorded and helped develop Altman’s trademark of overlapping dialogue. To this end, he gave the supporting actors and extras significant emphasis on the soundtrack. On the first day of shooting, the effort to keep eight separate channels clean and distinct made everyone very anxious. Haskell Wexler had originally been approached to shoot the film but Altman opted to go with relative newcomer Paul Lohmann who would go on to shoot Nashville (1975) and Buffalo Bill and the Indians (1976).

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is one of Altman’s trademark character-driven films. It is less concerned with plot than behavior as we watch the friendship between Bill and Charlie develop over a mutual love of gambling. Charlie is a wisecracking joker and experienced gambler constantly looking for the next score. Initially, Bill isn’t as committed a gambler (he works at a magazine during the day) but he’s well on his way and hanging out with Charlie doesn’t help. As the film progresses and the two men hang out more, Bill starts to become more addicted to the gambling lifestyle. He blows off work early to meet Charlie at the track and sells his possessions for money. Bill and Charlie are gambling addicts who ride the high arcs and the low valleys, never passing up a bet. At a boxing match they put money on the outcome of the fight with a fellow spectator.

Those who know Elliott Gould and George Segal only from their contemporary sitcom appearances (Friends and Just Shoot Me, respectively), should see California Split if only to see these guys in their prime and working with a master filmmaker at the top of his game. Gould and Segal have never been better and play well of each other. There is good chemistry between them as Gould plays the more experienced gambler in contrast to Segal’s more naïve one.

justtalkingonthetelephoneCalifornia Split
is not afraid to show the ugly side of gambling. Bill sells his car and his possessions for a big poker game in Reno. Charlie exacts a rough, bloody revenge on the guy who mugged him at the beginning of the film. These are not always likeable guys and to Altman’s credit he doesn’t try to romanticize or judge them, leaving that up to the audience. Altman wanted to convey the empty feeling that winning from gambling gives these guys as he told Film Heritage magazine, “The mistaken feeling that winning…you can’t spend that money; you don’t go out and pay the milk bill with it unless you’re about to go to jail. It just means that you can play that much longer…In other words, it’s passes. It’s more tickets to the amusement park – that’s all it is.” California Split is arguably Altman’s loosest film in terms of plot and one of the richest in terms of character and observing their behavior.

Top Ten Mickey Rourke Performances: A list by Nate Hill

  

Mickey Rourke has been called the Hollywood outlaw by some, a difficult outsider by others, a master of his craft by anyone with sense, and has never not been a completely surprising thespian who refuses to reside within one box for long. He’s an outspoken, candid guy who has never been afraid of speaking his mind or laying down the verbal hammer. For me, Mickey is an undisputed genius of his craft and has shined like a brilliant nebula of talent, intuition and brilliance in each and every role he has brought to our screens. Here are my personal top ten performances from one of my all time favourite actors: 

10. Billy Chambers in Once Upon A Time In Mexico

  

Director Robert Rodriguez allowed Mickey to carry around his own personal chihuahua (something that he has walked off of a set in a huff over in the past), and encouraged him to wear his personal shiny purple suit to play Chambers, a gruff cowboy hiding out in Mexico and working for a ruthless cartel boss (Willem Dafoe, a frequent Rourke collaborator). Chambers seems like a sly amalgamation of several early characters he played, world weary from too many skirmishes and events gone wrong, marinating in the Mexican sun and wishing for an exodus from criminal life. Billy has trouble with the sadistic tasks which the cartel orders him to carry out, showing a delineation between a life of crime and an evil path. Regretful, posturing and laconic, the first team up between Rourke and Rodriguez turns out to be a delight. 
9. Captain Stanley White in Year Of The Dragon

  

Rourke first did a bit part for manic maestro Michael Cimino in the notorious Heaven’s Gate, a precursor to his turn in this blistering cop film as a belligerent, hard nosed and uncompromising cop who will do anything in his power, and even a few things outside it, to bring down a Chinese crime syndicate. White has tunnel vision, a Viet Nam war veteran whose internal battery is set on search and destroy mode regardless of any collateral damage, of which there is a considerable amount. Rourke takes a blow torch to the character until the edges flare and fray, never letting the heat lower for a second, be it an introspective moment that smoulders or one of many thunderous outbursts of self righteous, racist fury. 
8. Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson

  

Some see this role as Rourke’s comeback, but similar to Randy ascending the ranks of his former glory only to take a hazardous dive off the ring and back down again, such was the case for Rourke, who is back to smaller films. For a single piercing couple hours, he brought us legendary work in an Oscar nominated turn that burns deep, encased in Darren Aronofsky’s intrepid direction. Randy is a fallen Titan who is looking for another shot in both his professional and personal life, and Rourke gives him the presence to hit home. 
7. The Motorcycle Boy in Rumble Fish

  

Returning from a mysterious motorbike odyssey, speaking in cryptically poetic fashion and filling out the restless bad boy archetype like no other, this is one of Rourke’s most fascinating turns, in a surreal black & white tumble town that evokes the 1950’s beautifully. He’s relaxed yet uneasy, friendly yet vaguely portentous and obtains an intangible state of heightened awareness with his work that you can never quite pin down or explain properly in words. His character’s resolution seem fittingly oblique, matched by his performance that simultaneously cries out and holds back, often mirroring each other eerily. 
6. Jim Olstadt in The Pledge

  

Sean Penn cast Rourke for an appearance that lasts for less than a minute, and he manages to quietly devastate and then some within that time. He plays a grieving father who is questioned by Jack Nicholson’s obsessed detective about his young daughter, who disappeared several years before. Unshaven, chain smoking and hiding behind a vacant expression, Nicholson’s queries trigger a well of raw anguish which spill out unforced into the certain and seem remarkably genuine. It’s uncomfortable, despairing and you just want to walk right into the screen and give poor Olstadt a hug. His work is that good, a gem of an appearance in probably the best film on this list. 
5. Marv in Sin City

  

When Robert Rodriguez told Frank Miller of his notion to cast Rourke as the hulking bruiser Marv, Miller’s response was “What, that skinny guy from Body Heat?”. Rodriguez had a vision though, which Rourke followed through with in legendary fashion. Marv has to be played by a performer with the right presence (Ron Perlman and Clancy Brown could have taken a decent crack), someone with somber grit and just the right shot of blackest humour. Rourke sets the role on fire, filling every gorgeously composed frame with his Boulder tough, terrifying and surprisingly touching take on the character.
4. Ed Moseby in Domino

  

The title of most legendary bounty hunter in Los Angeles is a pretty steep hill for any actor to start out on in at the beginning of their performance. Mentor to Domino Harvey, street smart professional, world weary badass and all around character, Ed is one third of the film’s psychedelic soul and Rourke charges full guns ahead with the work, pausing at penultimate crossroads to show us the seething regret and sadness that Ed harbours beneath the violence and tough guy shell. There’s one scene with co star Edgar Ramirez that seems pulled straight from Rourke’s own history, where the camera sits still long enough to allow him to show piercing truth. 
3. Charlie in The Pope Of Greenwich Village

  

Charlie is a small time thug who does his absolute best to not be a screw up. Only problem, he’s saddled with best friend Paulie (Eric Roberts) who happens to be the biggest screw up this planet has ever seen. The pair are comic dynamite, Rourke setting off on exasperated tirades whenever Roberts gets them in hot water, and then using his brand of cunning and survival instinct to bail them out. Rourke shows a fox-like resourcefulness, a hurricane of anxious energy that cools over when evasive action is required. Charlie is Rourke in his youth and loving the game, firing synaptic bursts of energy at Roberts and receiving them back in synergy, showing off what a great onscreen duo they make.
2. The Cook in SPUN

  

A cowboy hat wearing, meth cooking oddball hardly seems like the type of character to land an emotional punch, and for the most part you’d be right to think that. Rourke is like Jim Carrey in the mask here, inhabiting an overblown and dizzyingly stylistic aesthetic that exists to show us the unhinged lifestyle of meth addicts. He jumps from serious to scary to funny to sad so quick it’s hard to put the puzzle of his character together, until a n emotional wipeout of a monologue that’s delivered late in the last act, bringing his sad arc full circle. Be it a seminar on the political qualities of Pussy, a whopper of a tiff with girlfriend Brittany Murphy or a brief tongue in cheek encounter with Eric Roberts, it’s glitzy grungy playtime all the way, until we get to that one extended speech, which halts the mayhem and sobers the viewer up post-delirium. It’s tearful in a film where you’d last expect it, and Rourke handles the 180 degree turn like the master he is. 
1. Harry Angel in Angel Heart

  

In one of the finest and most flat out unnerving southern gothic horror films ever made, Rourke throws himself at the role of a down and out private detective who is hired by a sinister Robert De Niro to find a missing singer who doesn’t even seem to exist at all. Harry starts off in control, assured, well travelled. His nerves begin to shake when a trail of hideously murdered bodies pile up behind him, seemingly connected to his search. Rourke slowly unscrews the lid of Harry’s sanity in a sweaty frenzy of fractured machismo and blossoming terror, his fear riling up the audience with each new grisly discovery. There’s plot revelations, shocking violence, the mother of all graphic sex scenes, steeped melodrama and a near constant state of primeval fear, all infused into his performance with skill and tact. For me, Rourke has never been more ‘Rourke’, in all facets, than he was as Angel. 

B Movie Glory with Nate: Unspeakable

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Unspeakable revels in its southern fried trashiness, pulling forth a lurid and grotesque pseudo mindfuck serial killer story that I don’t recall making a whole lot of sense, yet is still barrels of fun to behold the seasoned cast play out. The film’s writer, Pavan Grover, also stars as Jesse Mowatt, a mysterious serial killer with ties to the occult who frames an innocent Mexican migrant (Marco Rodriguez) in several horrific murders. When a scientist (Dina Meyer) uses an experimental mind mapping and truth seeking method on the wrongfully accused man, she is led to Mowatt via some dodgy telepathy. To be sure that Mowatt is guilty, she tries the same method on him and comes across readings that suggest he may be not only inhuman, but altogether unspeakably evil. The gung ho, sadistic prison warden Earl Blakely (a hopped up Dennis Hopper) is ready to pull the switch, but Meyer wants more time to examine Mowatt. Her colleague and mentor Jack Pitchford  (Lance Henriksen) advises her against it, sensing the evil. She appeals to the state Governor (a brief Jeff Fahey) who happens to be her former lover, but he is unyielding. Her curiosity towards Mowatt puts her in grave supernatural danger, as Mowatt leers from the shadows of his cell and causes all sorts of unexplainable havoc. It’s a B movie thrill ride through and through, the plot barely registering to the viewer beyond the shock value tactics it employs, mainly giving Grover and Hopper scenery to voraciously gnaw on. In fact, Hopper is so rabid in one particular sequence it makes the viewer question whether the director just told him to ‘go full retard’. I enjoyed it for the actors, all of which I greatly admire. It’s schlock, of the marginally nonsensical variety. As long as you go in with that pre-notion, you can’t blame me for the reccomendation. At least the startling instances of gore are guaranteed a spike in our pulses.