Tag Archives: David Caruso

DAVID MORRELL: It’s a long road by Kent Hill

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‘Cause the road is long yeah
Each step is only the beginning
No breaks just heartaches
Oh man is anybody winning…

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As LAST BLOOD approaches, you kinda know how it’s gonna go. John Rambo will win, he has to – he’s the hero. But now it’s a new war, outside his back door – by the looks of it. But, will this be last blood? There are Elvis guys, Beatles guys, Rocky guys and Rambo guys. Well, I’m a Rambo guy…..and here’s why – like this action monolith, I’m at my best when the stakes are high, and failure just doesn’t compute baby…

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But what do I think of, when I think of RAMBO. I think of my Grandmother. One of my Grandmother’s favorite movies, or at least the one I can remember her watching more than once, was RAMBO III. God bless her, she loved it. She was right there with him. Her favorite scene is the night infiltration and escape from the fortress. Man it was a treat to watch her watch that movie. “Gee whizz, he’s tough,” she’d say, with this tiny, elated grin.

From my guest’s, David Morrell, novel to Ted Kotcheff’s brilliant opener, through the 80s action-movie majesty of First Blood: Part 2, on to the comic book insanity of 3. Then, Stallone, like a bolt of lightning, too bright to ever be forgotten, brings back RAMBO (ROCKY too).

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And so we come to LAST BLOOD – will this be Stallone’s primal valentine to the character he and he alone embodies? Just like the characters he plays, so has his career seen thrilling heights (Cliffhanger …. literally) and – I don’t wish to piss off the STOP! OR MY MOM WILL SHOOT people, but while it has a nostalgic quality, it is but a relic that survives purely because of sociological interest. Just this man’s opinion…okay.

Then, just like Rambo, Sly finds something deep within. A flame, a light that was unwavering once. So, in what cinema history may recount as a stroke of genius, Stallone proceeds to pour a little of that old 80’s gasoline over the flame and BOOM!, Sly’s back. Hell, they’re all back, right?

But who’ll draw last blood? Is this finally the sun going down on a legend . . . or will this be something else. Redemption? Which ever way it goes it was a thrill to take the journey from FIRST to LAST BLOOD with the man, without whom, none of this would exist. David is so gracious, eloquent and insightful. His view of the way John Rambo has evolved is a unique insight, not only in terms of how a creator views his creation, but the wonderment of a fan – who’ll be at the cinema opening night . . . with the rest of us.

The same people who’d show up for KING CONAN . . . the same people who are gonna be there for MAVERICK, hell, if you believe what you read in the trades, COBRA is stirring – shit, I know I’ll be front of the queue for Tango and Cash 2.

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So there’s only one thing left for you to do now. Have a listen to David and me get romantic about RAMBO, then, go see LAST BLOOD…

…see  if we get to win this time.

Abel Ferrara’s King Of New York

Abel Ferrara’s King Of New York might simultaneously be Christopher Walken’s scariest, most intense and also withdrawn and detached performance, so idiosyncratically does he a draw his portrait of Frank White, a dangerous career criminal fresh out of the pen with high ambitions on ruling the NYC urban jungle, take no prisoners. It’s one of the moodiest, most dour crime films set in the big apple, but it finds a dark heart of bloody poetry, frighteningly funny menace and an ultimate resolution that has you undecided on whether crime really does pay. Walken’s Frank is a strange man, surprisingly introverted for a guy who commands an army and takes on rival gangsters for the control of city blocks, but it’s in the quiet, dangerous charm that he finds his effectiveness, and as crazy as he still is here, it’s a fascinating far cry from some of his more manic, well over the top turns. There’s three would-be hero cops out to get him by any means they can, cocky hotshot David Caruso (before his talents fell from grace with god awful CSI Miami), Ferrara veteran Victor Argo and a coked up Wesley Snipes. They go so far over the line trying to nail him that the only thing separating them from the crime element is a badge, which seems to amuse Frank as he eludes them at every turn. Walken’s merry band of assholes is an armada of gangbangers and drug chemists which include the likes of Steve Buscemi, Giancarlo Esposito, Paul Calderon, Roger Smith and a fearsome Laurence Fishburne as his first mate, young and rambunctious before his acting style gelled into something decidedly more cucumber cool (hello Morpheus). The violence and threat thereof is palpable, as Ferrara whips up a frenzy of boiling conflict that makes the epicentre of Hell’s Kitchen feel like the eye of a very angry hurricane, while still keeping the mood to a laid back thrum, it’s stylistic and tonal bliss the whole way through. Cinematographer Bojan Bazelli shoots the city with an oblong, lived in, hazed out and very un-cinematic feel, throwing us right into the dirty digs with this troupe of miscreants and crooked cops, while composer Joe Delia makes gloomy, haunted work out of the score, especially in Frank’s darkly poetic final scene. As for Walken, the man is a dynamo and this may be his best work to date. He makes Frank a harrowing demon with humanity that catches you off guard when it breaches the surface of his opaque, unreadable persona, a suave, psychotic spectre of the NYC streets who won’t go out unless it’s with a bang, and won’t ever back down on his way there.

A crime classic.

-Nate Hill