Tag Archives: Christian Slater

33rd Santa Barbara International Film Festival Opening Night: Emilio Estevez’s ‘the public’

Opening the 33rd Santa Barbara International Film Festival was Emilio Estevez’s new film, ‘the public’ which is set in a library deep in the harsh Midwest winter in the heart of Cincinnati where the local homeless population seeks refuge during the day, stages a sit-in to spend the night after all the local shelters reach their maximum capacity and numerous others had frozen to death.

Estevez, Jena Malone, Alec Baldwin, and Michael K. Williams were among the stars of the film that took to the red carpet along with Martin Sheen who did not appear in the film, but was there to show support for his son.

Introducing the film with an elegant and impassioned speech was dashing Executive Director of the festival, Roger Durling, who spoke about the recent catastrophic mudslides that deeply affected the community.

‘the public’ is a gripping, topical film that is a reflection of the many humanitarian crisis in America, and particularly one; the homeless population. The film is incredibly cunning. The focal point isn’t solely aimed at the social and economic injustice of America’s homeless population, but also the opioid epidemic as well as mental illness and how it is currently viewed by the poisonous symbiotic relationship between window dressing politicians and manufactured news and how that information is then fed to the populous of America.

This film is a lot to absorb.

Estevez wrote, produced, directed, and starred in this feature and he assembled a remarkable cast from those who walked the red carpet premiere to those who did not including Jeffery Wright, Gabrielle Union, Christian Slater, and Taylor Schilling in a film that is a subtle recognition of one of Estevez’s most seminal films, John Hughes’ The Breakfast Club.

‘the public’ asks a plethora of serious and substantial questions whilst also pulling a strong emotional response from its audience. It is a great film that not only reflects present day America, but also exposing a problem that no one is seriously addressing in mainstream America.

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John Woo’s Windtalkers


John Woo’s Windtalkers is a brutal, somber, joyless affair, a muddy and hopeless war picture that contains little of the ethereal poise of stuff like The Thin Red Line or heroic muscle such as Saving Private Ryan. As long as you can adjust and tune into it’s frequency it’s a well made, sorrowful look at the American effort against Japan, particularly a mission involving a regiment whose task is to protect Native Navajo code breakers that can detect messages fired off by the enemy. A mopey Nicolas Cage is their shell shocked leader, pressing his men onward into territory that no doubt contains the same horrors he witnessed before the film begins. We find him in a trauma ward initially, cared for by a kindly nurse (Frances O’Connor), until Jason Isaacs cameos as the recruitment officer who spurs him back into action. His troupe is composed solely of excellent, distinct acting talent and they help the film considerably. The Navajo are played by Adam Beach and Roger Willie, giving grace and nobility to two men who are out of their depth and terrified. Peter Stormare, Christian Slater, Noah Emmerich, Mark Ruffalo, Brian Van Holt and a standout Martin Henderson are the rest of the troops, each getting their moment to shine within the unit’s cohesive arc. Woo is an odd choice for a war picture, and his stylized flair for bullet ridden action is nowhere to be found in these bleak, bloodied trenches, trading in suits and duel wielded glocks for faded camo and muted rifle fire. The action is neither cathartic nor poetic, simply a concussive cacophony of combat that offers little aesthetic pleasure, forcing you to find the value in empathy towards these men, and as long as you can do that, you’ll get something out of it. 

-Nate Hill

3000 Miles To Graceland


If I believed in guilty pleasures, which I don’t, 3000 Miles To Graceland would constitute as one, but I’m a pretty open book, avid fan of all sorts of films, and I either like something or I don’t, there’s no special category for things I’m too embarrassed to say I enjoy. This film is the very definition of unbridled fun, and greases up a pair Hollywood leading men stars for two of the meanest, sleaziest, down n’ dirtiest roles of their careers. Elvis is the name of the game here, pretty much every character spending the film in King costumes of varied colour and style, gathering in Vegas for one bloody shit show of a casino heist, then gloriously double crossing each other and running off into the desert with their ill gotten loot. Kevin Costner is demented brilliance as Murphy, a bad tempered, psychotic criminal who may literally be Presley’s long lost bastard child. Costner rarely gets to cut loose and grime it up like this and he milks every hair-gel soaked, chromed up second of it. He’s at odds with former partner in crime Zane, played with cold, sociopathic grace by Kurt Russell. It’s a hoot watching these two tough guys go to war on each other in high style, killing everything else that moves and seriously not giving one ounce of fucks the whole time. That’s pretty much all there is in terms of plot: a heist, and then one long, violent extended chase scene punctuated by character’s deaths every few miles. David Arquette, Ice T, Christian Slater and Bokeem Woodbine play their short lived cohorts, and they’re also pursued by a few wise-ass federal agents (Thomas Haden Church and Kevin Pollak) who are always one step behind. It’s the Kurt and Kevin show all the way though, and they both let it rip, two antagonists out to get each other in the worst ways, leaving a spectacular trail of wanton carnage and deliberate collateral damage in their sequin strewn wake. A total blast. 

-Nate Hill

Back to Graceland: An Interview with Demian Lichtenstein by Kent Hill

If you have seen the restored Lawrence of Arabia then there’s a chance you’ve seen the extras on the second disc? One such extra is an interview with Spielberg, in which he recounts sitting down with David Lean for a screening of the film. As they watched, Lean provided what Spielberg describes as a ‘live’ director’s commentary, pontificating about all aspects of the production while the pair sat through the movie.

Now Spielberg himself doesn’t do commentaries, but a lot of directors do. Of course I have a list of films that to date, do not boast a commentary track which I wish, so badly, that they did. Near the top of that list are a pair of movies that stick out. One is John Milius’s Farewell to the King and the other is Demian Lichtenstein’s 3000 Miles to Graceland.

But now for something really cool.

At the close of 2016 I had the chance to chat with Demian, and what eventuated was quite extraordinary. I was working my way through my questions when, all of a sudden, Demian started to unload his fantastic tales from the production, and it just kept getting better. As I listened, I imagined Spielberg listening to Lean, receiving first-hand all of those astonishing insights, and here I was in a similar situation getting the good oil on the production of Graceland.

It has become a cult film with the passage of time, but there remains no chance of Demian ever being gifted the ability to go back in and retool his movie. Perhaps in some small way set certain things to right.

I was tired when we spoke, it was 3am here Down Under, but, by the time we were through, I was energized and so sat back and re-watched 3000 Miles to Graceland with fresh eyes. Demian’s stories swirled in my head. When we were talking, just when I thought it was over, he went on. I received scene-specific commentary and even insights into scenes that were written but never shot.

It was a genuine thrill, along with being a great and one of the most surprising interviews I’ve ever done.

3000 Miles to Graceland is out there waiting for you to watch it again or to discover it for the first time. It makes me proud as a fan to think that this interview may serve as the bonus material we never received. A director’s commentary of a splendidly intricate and playfully unique movie with great anecdotes, favorite scenes and even deleted scenes in the form of unrealized story elements.

So, for all you fans and even the first-timers, the journey of 3000 Miles back to Graceland begins here, for your listening pleasure.

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B Movie Glory with Nate: The River Murders 

The River Murders is a fairly entertaining thriller vehicle for Ray Liotta that tries hard to be in the same grisly territory as stuff like Sev7n, and winds up looking pretty silly in its efforts. It takes place on a rural community in the Midwest, where a serial killer is leaving bodies for authorities to find. Detective Jack Verdon (Liotta) does some digging and finds that that himself and the killer may have met before in the past, making it personal. This causes unrest for both the department and Verdon’s mental state, prompting the arrival of an overzealous Federal agent (Christian Slater, annoying as hell here), and the concern of his captain (Ving Rhames). It’s fun watching Liotta spin out of control, and the film climaxes with reasonable intensity, but showcases nothing unique or noteworthy. Raymond J. Barry has a nice bit as Liotta’s father too. 

Murder In The First: A Review by Nate Hill

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Murder In The First examines courtroom intrigue in San Francisco, concerning an Alcatraz inmate (Kevin Bacon) who has been accused of killing a fellow prisoner upon being let out of a cruelly long stint in solitary. In fact, the word cruel seems to be the running theme of his incarceration, at the hands of sinister and sadistic Warden Milton Glen (Gary Oldman). A decade prior, Bacon almost succeeded in escaping the island, which seems to have given the correctional officers the idea that they can do whatever they want to him. His plight creates ripples in the D.A.’s office, and soon a young, inexperienced attorney (Christian Slater) is assigned to his case. His boss (Stephen Tobolowsky) seems to think, and I quote, that a monkey would be more suited for the job. The D.A. (William H. Macy) has hope. And so it happens, with Bacon arriving in an obvious shellshocked state, Slater trying to exploit his maltreatment at the Warden’s hands and win not only his innocence, but his freedom. Bacon can swing his internal compass from victim to villain at the drop of a hat, taking up the bruised martyr mantle here and proving to be quite affecting. Slater is… Slater, the guy doesn’t have endless range but can carry a scene decently enough. Oldman is sly and scary, covering up the true nature of Glen’s monstrosity underneath a beauricratic sheen. The cast is wonderful, with further standouts from Brad Dourif as Slater’s veteran lawman brother, Embeth Davidz as a key witness, R. Lee Ermey as the stern judge overseeing the trial and brief appearances from Mia Kirshner, Charles Cyphers and Kyra Sedgwick. The expert cast carries it along with innate talent and applied teamwork, with Bacon and Oldman taking front and center. Now I’m not entirely sure if this is based on a true story, but it’s very fascinating nonetheless and serves to show the rotten places in the penal system which definitely do exist in real life. Solid stuff.

B Movie Glory with Nate: Guns, Girls And Gambling

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Guns, Girls And Gambling is an absolute doozy of a film. The term ‘so bad it’s good’ was invented for slapdash mockeries such as this, and with every stylistic cliche and ridiculous tactic, it owns the moniker vigorously. The filmmakers are obvious disciples of the neo noir crime thriller, as we see countless hard boiled walking stereotypes prance across the screen. Whenever a character shows up, a garish font announces them in writing below, which is crime genre 101. This happens so many goddamn times though, that eventually I felt like I was watching Mel Brooks’s attempt at a heist flick. It’s silly beyond words, derivitive enough to give you the onset of dementia and admirably dumb. But… I still had fun, at least in parts of it. It concerns the theft of a priceless Native American artifact from a tribal casino. The perpetrators? A gang of Elvis impersonators with, let’s say, interesting characteristics. There’s gay Elvis (Chris Kattan), midget Elvis (Tony Cox), Asian Elvis (Anthony Wong) and Gary Oldman Elvis, played by Gary Oldman who looks like he was dared into taking the role at a frat party. The bumbling Elvises break ranks post heist and the plot thickens, or should I say befuddles, with the arrival of every kooky, sassy assassin and archetype under the sun. Now from what I could make out: Christian Slater plays a dude called John Smith, a ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ type of guy who is swept up into the intrigue and is in way over head. He’s pursued by all kinds of unsavory people, and joined by the girl next door (Heather Roop). There’s The Cowboy (a salty Jeff Fahey), a gunslinging hitman who claims to never miss but literally misses upon firing the first bullet. The Indian (Matthew Willig) is a hulking tomahawk sporting badass. The Chief (Gordon Tootoosis) is the casino owner, muscling in on everyone to get back his artifact. The Sheriff (Dane Cook) is a corrupt lawman out for anything worth a buck. Best of the bunch is a snarling Powers Boothe as The Rancher, a good ol’ southern gangster who languishes in a white limo longer than the cast list of this movie, chewing scenery as vigorously as his cigar. There’s also a sexy blonde assassin called The Blonde (Helena Mattson) who wanders around quoting Poe right before she blasts people’s heads off. Its inane, mind numbing eye candy, with a cast that seems to have been blackmailed into participation. There’s even a last minute twist ending that seems to have wandered in from a much more serious film. It’s quite literally one of the most stupefyingly odd flicks I’ve ever seen. It’s earnestness in aping countless Pulp Fiction style films before it is beyond amusing, and the only thing that will make you laugh harder is how spectacularly and epically it flounders. It’s truly B movie gold, and one that demands a watch simply because it’s a sideshow unto itself.