Tag Archives: Brian Thompson

George P. Cosmatos’s Cobra

Sylvester Stallone has never been leaner, meaner and more badass than he was in Cobra, an absolutely unapologetic piece of hyper-violent, deliriously blessed trash from the 80’s, that glorious decade of synth pop music, neon lights and action spectacle supreme. As super cop Marion Cobretti, he uses a laser sighted sub machine gun and pearl handled colt pistol to deal out justice his own way in a hellish nocturnal LA that’s under the grip of a heinous serial killer dubbed the Night Slasher (a juiced up Brian Thompson). Slasher and his disciples are murdering left and right in the most violent and cold blooded ways, and the only witness left alive (Brigitte Nelson) has to tag along with Cobra and his deadly quest. A delightful simplicity can be found in these types of films, but this one isn’t just your garden variety actioner. There’s a reckless penchant for excess and stylistic flourish put into everything from Cobra’s gorgeous 1950 Mercury to his specific weapons to the Night Slasher’s gut ventilating melee knife to the beautifully threatening synth score to Stallone’s windshield size sunglasses, this thing is pure a*e*s*t*h*e*t*i*c! It’s no wonder that auteur stylist Nicolas Winding Refn was influenced by the tone of the film and by Cobra himself, who moodily chews on a matchstick later echoed by Ryan Gosling’s toothpick in the modern classic Drive. This is admittedly largely a brainless action flick, no doubt; Stallone dispatches literally hordes of psychopathic goons with his artillery and the final showdown takes place in that ages old, sparking scrap metal factory that we’ve seen in everything from Terminator 2 to Gone In 60 Seconds. Cobra has a wise cracking partner (Rene Santoni) and is hounded by idiotic, misguided superior officers (Art Lafleur and Andrew Robinson), plus he gets to utter some one liners, so all the tropes are there. But there’s just something so sleek and specific about the film’s design that sets it apart, attention to style and design that goes a long way in bringing vision to the screen. Cobra may be just another ultra violent action flick, but it’s cool in ways that others aren’t tuned in to, and I fucking loved it for that.

-Nate Hill

Steve De Jarnett’s Miracle Mike

Ever had one of those clammy nightmares where you’re dead sure that some catastrophic disaster is imminent, but are next to powerless to do anything about it, run or escape what’s coming? Steve Dejarnett’s Miracle Mile captures that feeling uncannily well, and is now one of my favourite films for that as well as many other reasons. It’s not that that sensation is pleasant or at all enjoyable to relive outside of a dream, but it’s so hard to tangibly recreate on film that what Miracle Mike achieves is a rare commodity among mood-scapes. The film is disarmingly benign as it opens: a young man (Anthony Edwards) and woman (Mare Winningham) meet and fall in love outside a neon adorned diner in dreamy, pastel hued Los Angeles. They make plans for later that night, and a whimsical note takes hold. We’re treated to some of the most inspired foreshadowing I’ve ever seen involving a pigeon, a lit cigarette and an open power line. As night descends on the Miracle Mile neighbourhood of LA, Edwards finds himself back at the diner when the pay phone outside rings. He answers it, and a frantic voice warns him that nuclear attack is coming to the city in just over an hour. What would you do? Who would you tell? He races right back into the diner and, panicked, informs the rogues gallery of oddballs you’d find at such an establishment after midnight. Naturally they all freak out too, and as soon as that cat is out of the bag, it’s a feverish, mad dash to exit the city before the threat arrives, if indeed it is a credible danger. That’s part of the beauty here; whether or not this is a hoax is not clearly revealed until the absolute last minute of the film, but would you risk not taking it seriously? These characters react in a variety of ways, but Edwards just wants to find that special girl he met earlier when things felt so sunny and full of possibility, to find her and escape together. It’s one of those ‘real time, one night in the crazy city’ films that unfolds over a short period of time but couldn’t be more full of instances, encounters and the kind of strange occurrences only the witching hour has to offer. The romantic angle, usually played to the hilt of melodrama in these kinds of films, is somehow so frank and truthful that we buy it, we care about these two kids and it makes the thought of apocalypse all the more dreadful. For all it’s focus on death and potential destruction, this is a beautiful film that is so full of life and character, a sly cross section of LA’s invisible working class under the nocturnal skies and a bubble gum, eye popping display of colour, design and eccentricity. The cityscape is populated by an ever present cast of brilliantly used character actors including O Lan Jones, Robert Doqui, Kurt Fuller, Mykelti Williamson, Edward Bunker, John Agar, Lou Hancock, Denise Crosby, Kelly Jo Minter, Allen Rosenberg, Earl Boen, Brian Thompson, Peter Berg and a quick but badass cameo from Aliens’s Janette Goldstein, once again waving around a big gun in exuberant fashion. A film needs a good score, and whenever Tangerine Dream is hired to compose, unfiltered magic happens. Their music here is a driving force to the action, an atmospheric lullaby that exudes both beauty and danger in its synth laden, melodic pulse. This is such a unique film, such a deft melting pot of genres that the recipe can’t really be defined as anything but a flavour all it’s own, an experience that makes you feel primal fear while wowing you with cinematography, editing and one shots that practically pull you right into the action. Points also awarded for bravery in pulling off that ending without compromise. The very definition of a forgotten gem, and a film that should be on every shelf.

-Nate Hill