As far as the remaking of cult classics, Stephen Kay’s Get Carter is a piss poor effort, so much so that not even a positively stacked cast could do much of anything about it. The original saw fearsome bulldog Michael Caine getting shotgun fuelled revenge and has since become iconic, while this one switches up rainy Britain for rainy Seattle and a sedated Sylvester Stallone in a shiny suit takes over as Carter, a mob enforcer who hails from Vegas but has travelled north both to escape scandal and look into a shady family matter. There he finds all sorts of characters played by a troupe of big names, character actors and even Caine himself in an extended cameo as a bar owner, but it all feels lazy, listless and flung about like a ball of yarn full of loose plot threads and scenes that fizzle. It’s obvious that there were major editing problems here as the pacing is in conniptions and an entire subplot involving a love interest back in Vegas (Gretchen Mol) has been slashed to ribbons. So sloppy was the final product that my college acting teacher, who landed the role of Carter’s gangster boss back in Vegas, although mentioned brazenly in the opening credits, can only be seen briefly from the neck down and heard on the phone, except for whatever reason they decided to dub his voice over with an uncredited Tom Sizemore, which is just so bizarre. Anywho, Stallone sleepwalks his way through a local conspiracy involving his dead brother, the widow (Rachel Leigh Cook), a mysterious femme fatale (Rhona Mitra), a weaselly computer tycoon (Alan Cumming) a sleazy pimp/porn baron (Mickey Rourke) and more. It’s just all so terminally boring though, and none of the clues or twists spring to life or feel organic at all. Rourke provides some of the only life the film has to offer as the villain, a guttural scumbag who has two painful looking nightclub boxing beatdowns with Stallone which are fun. John C. McGinley raises the pulse somewhat as a lively Vegas thug dispatched by Sizemore’s voice to bring Stallone back to face the music. Others show up including Miranda Richardson, Mark Boone Jr., John Cassini, Johnny Strong, Frank Stallone, Tyler Labine and more. None of it amounts to much though and by the time the anticlimactic plot resolutions arrive and Carter jumps a red eye back to Vegas before the credits roll, you wonder what the point of it all was and want your hour and forty minutes back. A thorough bummer.
John Frankenheimer’s Dead Bang makes no apologies for the straight up, down n’ dirty, violently obnoxious ninety minutes of rural crime mayhem it throws at you, containing no lofty subtext, tongue in cheek send ups or heady plot twists, purely and simply Don Johnson wiping out a gang of backwoods white supremacists and pissing off every superior officer along the way. A cop film to it’s roots, it’s a refreshing little diversion for Frankenheimer, who is known for taking on genre outings with ambitious undertones. Johnson is a flippant big city cop sent to the sticks to smoke out some neo-nazi assholes who are running guns, killing folks and all that fun stuff. He’s paired with a hysterically fussy FBI handler (William Forsythe, cast against type and loving it), and at odds with the psychotic ringleader of this gang (real life drill instructor Frank Military, also a solid actor), who proves to be quite a fly in the ointment. The action is rough and tumble and thoroughly R-rated, the villains are formidably nasty and Johnson’s cheeky super cop is wearily exasperated most of the time, out for the count but just gripping the edge as he hunts these yokels and deals with red tape including a department appointed shrink (Bob Balaban) who he hilariously mocks for looking like the Monopoly Guy in the film’s funniest bit, a riotous interlude. There’s scattershot work from Penelope Ann Miller, Mickey Jones, Michael Jeter, Tate Donovan and Garwin Sanford as well. Not a well known effort from firebrand Frankenheimer (I’ve heard some unbelievable stories from this set) but a really enjoyable shoot em up that deserves a far better rep.
John Dahl’s Unforgettable plays around with a trippy high concept premise in which people’s memories can be accessed by using an experimental, controversial drug. Ray Liotta plays the troubled Doctor whose wife has been recently murdered. He desperately reaches out to the scientist (Linda Fiorentino) who synthesized the compound, and the two set out to use it unofficially, in order to retain his wife’s dying moments, see them for himself and establish who her killer is. The serum takes its toll on his already stressed mind though, and soon he’s questioning his own reality, his trust levels towards those around him dropping considerably. Director Dahl is beyond proficient when it comes to thrillers, usually taking on crime pieces with a noirish vibe. Here he tries his hand at science fiction, coexisting with a classic whodunit narrative, and the result is quite good. Liotta relies on the information that his detective friend (Peter Coyote) gives him, and combined with the knowledge he absorbs from his deceased wife’s brain, begins to piece the puzzle together. There’s also a troublesome detective played by Christopher Mcdonald he must deal with, and a violent thug (Kim Coates) involved as well. Liotta is usually tough, capable and would normally be found playing one of the two cops, but the doctor on the run without a lot of tactical skill suits him and allows the guy some work other than just cops or psychos. Watch for work from David Paymer, Kim Cattrall, William B. Davis, Callum Keith Rennie and Garwin Sanford as well. The premise may be too farfetched for some folks, but for others with imagination it’ll be a blast. It’s also fairly violent and graphic, which may seem gratuitous for such a cerebral outing, but I find it gives it a stylistic edge and raises the stakes, just like Total Recall. Great flick. Not Total Recall, I mean this one. Well Total Recall too, obviously. Yeesh.