Tag Archives: Mickey Rourke

Jonas Ackerlund’s Spun

Jonas Ackerland’s Spun is a film you’ll be onboard with in seconds, or jumping ship before the credits even start. It’s unpleasant, epileptic, downbeat, hyperactive, fucked up, strung out, cartoonish, nonsensical, unstructured, and is a complete masterpiece for those willing to lend an empathetic ear towards lost souls mired in the doldrums we call drug addiction. Set on a particularly sweaty day in the suburbs of L.A., all the film really does is try to keep up with a sorry bunch of meth-heads as they meander through a hazy existence filled with confusion, mania and that ever present need to score. Jason Schwartzman’s Ross is the default protagonist, and he moves from locale to locale, encountering the denizens of each dwelling in all their warped glory. John Leguizamo’s trademark brand of crazy is right at home as Spider, a maniacal dealer who can’t sit still for a nanosecond, along with his haggard looking girlfriend Cookie (Mena Suvari). Brittany Murphy is excellent as wayward Nikki, who leads Ross to her cook boyfriend, a strange fellow credited as literally The Cook, played in a brilliantly dark pitched, sad turn by Mickey Rourke. There’s others flitting about as well, including Patrick Fugit’s nutball Frisbee, a couple of frenzied narcs played by Alexis Arquette and Peter Stormare, plus cameos from a grab bag of figures like Debbie ‘Blondie’ Harry as a fearsome diesel dyke, Judas Priest frontman Rob Halford as a porn shop clerk, Ron Jeremy, Larry Drake, Josh Peck and a surprise Eric Roberts who gets a reunion of sorts with former costar Rourke. Director Ackerland, also a music video whiz, employs every stylistic trick and balls out editing fuckery to his film, until we have some wild inkling of what it must be like for these deranged urban pixies and their ADHD addled misadventures. It isn’t all comedic though; Once in a while the crazy curtain lifts and we see the deep set sadness that lives in these characters, a melancholy self loathing in which the actors find truth amongst the raging din, especially Murphy and Rourke, who provide the best work of the film. Mickey has a final act monologue that encapsulates the weary trajectories inhabited by these folks. Much of the film is stylized sound and fury though, a cavalcade of noise, vulgarity, offbeat altercations and loosely strung together events that have no meaning to anyone outside this asylum’s inner circle of addicts. One of a kind experience, and the most blatantly honest film I’ve seen on the subject of drugs.

-Nate Hill

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Charles Bukowski’s Barfly

Charles Bukowski’s Barfly requires a specific thing of it’s audience: emphatically try to observe a very particular brand of life, that of the binge drinking drifter in 1970’s LA basin area. If you can do this, it’s a brilliant piece of work to enjoy, and if you can’t, it’ll be an abrasively off-putting slog to sit through. I fell smartly into the former category as the subject matter came.. vaguely close to hitting home, and because it’s just a fantastic movie in itself. Mickey Rourke was at the top of game during the 80’s, and this is one glowing gem of a role for him, one that shows a vulnerable, less macho dipped side of the man no less. Playing a restless, shambling gutter-snipe named Henry Chinaski, he careens through the film consuming any booze he can get his hands on, barely maintaining already dysfunctional relationships and haunting his derelict apartment, as well as that of a fellow rummy he meets in the form of excellent Faye Dunaway, looking equal parts haggard and angelic until we’re not sure what we’re looking at. Chinaski is of course supposed to be Bukowski himself, as the film and it’s fiery script are autobiographical in nature, based on the willfully misanthropic writer’s hazy adventures in backwoods Hollywood during that era. Approached by a publisher (beautiful, articulate Alice Krige, who replaced Helen Hunt) with stars in her eyes for the man and his work, Chinaski gets a taste of life on the other side of the tracks, albeit briefly, an interlude he describes as ‘a cage with golden bars.’ The dives along those strips are his home right to the core, and he’s proud of it. The film is episodic, elliptical and open ended, a glimpse through the window of what it must be like for these people for a time, as the camera lovingly follows them about their ways for a while like a fly on the wall, then loses interest, buzzes off and leaves them in peace without rhyme, reason or resolution, unless of course your sensibilities jive with the meandering, barely sculpted story structure, which I loved. The film has little interest in aesthetics or pleasantries either, showing ugly, mottled alcoholics and layabouts who fill the frames around Rourke and Dunaway like brittle garden gnomes adorning the bar, a far cry from the fresh, powdered faces we’re used to in Hollywood. “Don’t you hate people?” Dunaway laments to him in one scene. “No, but I seem to feel better when they’re not around..” he croons back. It’s that kind of stinging poetry that gives this film, and Bukowski’s career, such lasting weight. Not to be missed.

-Nate Hill

B Movie Glory: Scott Leet’s Out In Fifty 


I usually avoid B movies where the writer/director also stars in the lead role, as it’s almost always pitiable self indulgence a lá The Room. In the case of Scott Leet’s Out In Fifty though, there’s an exception to the rule. A violent, mean revenge story with no light at the end of the troubled tunnel, it’s a bizarre, sketchy little flick that benefits greatly from Mickey Rourke as one beast of a cop on the hunt for the convict (Leet) who accidentally killed his wife in the heat of a passionate affair. Remorseful and tormented, he just wants to quietly exist after he’s eventually paroled, but Rourke, still hard bitten over the incident, has other plans. That’s pretty much it, but the actors sell the dour tone nicely, especially Rourke, who is at his nastiest and most scarily volatile, with a seething, bleeding broken heart behind the coiled viper, hate filled exterior. Peter Greene is terrific as his former partner who does his best to reign the guy in, and there’s work from Christina Applegate, Johnny Whitworth, Ed Lauter and Balthazar Getty as a weirdo pimp/motel owner. Leet isn’t bad, especially in the writing department, and holds the thing together with reasonable triple threat talents, although he has scarcely been heard of since this one. Not bad, made better by Rourke and Greene’s presence, and worth it for any fan of the two heavyweights.  

-Nate Hill

Alan Parker’s Angel Heart 


No other film has the seething elemental power of Alan Parker’s Angel Heart, a detective story propelled by a murder mystery, all the while cradled in the sweaty, unnerving blanket of a satanic horror story. Get the extended unrated cut if you can, as it cheerfully amps up both the queasy gore and kinky sex in spades. The time is postwar 1940’s, the setting New York, or at first anyways. Shabby private detective Harry Angel (Mickey Rourke) is hired by sinister clandestine gentleman Louis Cyphre (Robert De Niro) to find a missing lounge crooner named Johnny Favourite, for nasty reasons shrouded in thinly veiled threats. Harry is stalled at every turn, kept just out of the loop on every plot twist and soon seems to be a magnet for violence, troubling hallucinations and all the eerie hallmarks of a case he should have stayed far away from. The grisly clues lead him from Brooklyn to the smoky ghettos of Harlem, then south to voodoo soaked swamps of Louisiana and beyond, chasing illusory information and feeling more like the hunted than the hunter with each step. The film feels at times like a shrinking steel cage of unease and dread, a trap that closes in on both Harry and the viewer until the soul crushing revelations of the final act have been laid bare. This is hands down the best work Rourke has ever done, and it’s priceless listening to him try and to downplay it on the DVD commentary, classic ice cool Mickey. De Niro is the kind of quietly dangerous that leaves a deadly vacuum in the air of each scene, underplaying evil expertly and laying down more mystic mood by simply peeling a boiled egg than most actors could with a twenty page monologue. Ex Cosby Show darling Lisa Bonet sauces up her image here as a Bayou voodoo princess with ties to the mystery, and the steamy, no holds barred sex romp she has with Rourke has since become the stuff of legend, a feverish cascade of blood and other bodily fluid that almost gave the MPAA a coronary. The one area this film excels at most is atmosphere; there’s something intangibly wild about everything we see, hear and feel on Harry’s journey, from the supernatural tinged, noirish hues of Michael Seresin’s cinematography to the haunted, hollow tones of Trevor Jones’s baroque, restless original score, everything contributes to forging a world in which we feel enveloped in and can’t quite shake after, like a bad dream that creeps out into waking life for a while after the night. Angel Heart is a horror classic, a blood red gem amongst genre fare and one in an elite group of films that are pretty much as close to perfect as can be. 

-Nate Hill

Lawrence Kasdan’s BODY HEAT

BODY HEAT is about burning desire.  You can feel and smell the sweat, the cigarette smoke, and the deception and betrayal.  It’s sexy, sleazy, but above all, it’s a genre setting film that birthed the erotic thrillers of the 1980’s and launched the careers of Lawrence Kasdan, Kathleen Turner, and William Hurt in the process.

It’s a fascinating feature, it’s a soft remake of the classic DOUBLE INDEMNITY and was shadow produced by George Lucas.  Kasdan was able to roll all of his screenwriting star power into making his directorial debut with a film so sexy and steeped in noir, that it remains cinematic classic.

William Hurt and Kathleen Turner’s chemistry in the film is so powerful, that you can instantly feel and relish in their sexual tension.  Hurt’s character progression is remarkable; he starts out as the seedy lawyer and then he’s the alpha male in heat, then he’s the lover who will do anything for Turner, and then he ends up as the ultimate chump whose lust completely blinded him from the telegraphed motives of his obsession.

Yet without John Barry’s remarkable score, this film would not be nearly as powerful and sexy as it is.  The sexy jazz score with an abundance of saxophone truly accentuates the mood of the feature.  It is easily one of the best film scores of all time.
The picture is stocked with wonderfully memorable supporting performances from Richard Crenna, Ted Danson, and Mickey Rourke in his breakout role singing along to Bob Seger.  The film also found it’s way into Cormac McCarty’s screenplay for THE COUNSELOR, in a scene between Brad Pitt and Michael Fassbender, Pitt cautions Fassbender by recalling a scene between Rourke and Hurt.

After all, this film is a very heavy cautionary tale about lust and more importantly, obsession.  When we latch onto an obsession with such velocity and abandon any sense of reality, there’s a very good chance that we’ll burn ourselves down in our own fiery passion, and that’s exactly what William Hurt does.

Alan Parker’s ANGEL HEART – A Review by Frank Mengarelli

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A nightmarish fever dream of despair, discovery, and darkness is what makes Alan Parker’s ANGEL HEART one of the very best films of the 1980’s. Featuring a greasy and tobacco stained Mickey Rourke, a fresh and innocent Lisa Bonet, and Robert De Niro in one of his most underrated and undervalued performances.

The brutal violence and horrifying imagery of Rourke’s downward spiral are made up of this harmoniously tranquil aesthetic that makes the film even more terrifying and unnerving. At times, the film almost challenges its viewer to look away from the screen, but it knows you cannot because you’ve become so enamored with the richly lathered story that quickly unfolds.

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Rourke gives one of his finest, if not best performance as the amoral and skeevy private investigator who doesn’t have any limitations of what he’ll do for a paycheck. As his story arc comes to a close, Rourke transforms his character into a man who’s conflict gains nothing but sympathy from the viewer.

De Niro gives a brilliant and subtle turn as a man who is so powerful and dangerous his very presence in the film leaves you feeling violated. De Niro has often been hailed for his award-winning performances, but this role deserves as much attention and acclaim if not more.

Director Alan Parker is almost an unsung hero as a filmmaker. He’s made countless films throughout an array of genres, never allowing himself to become beholden to any of them. His films are topical, emotional, and more times than not unique pictures that find their way into your consciousness and are rarely forgotten. ANGEL HEART is a film that few have seen but no one will ever forget.

B Movie Glory with Nate: Double Team 

Double Team has to be seen to be believed. Hell, even the poster does. It exists in that delirious wasteland of the late 90’s action genre, a place where anything can, and does go. As the genre evolved, the scientists deep within Hollywood’s labs were trying out endless mind boggling action star team ups, even using a few celebrities that had never had a film to their name. In this particular twilight zone we get Jean Claude Van Damme and Dennis Rodman sharing a spotlight. There’s a pairing for ya. Van Damme plays a counter terrorist expert who miserably fails in preventing an attack from dangerous villain Stavros (Mickey Rourke), and is sent to The Colony, where disgraced agents are branded with all the snazzy technology the 90’s had to offer, after which being sent back into duty. He needs inside helps to track down Stavros, and finds it in beyond eccentric arms dealer Yaz (Rodman), a whacko who mirrors the man’s overblown real life persona. Together they make a run at Rourke, fireworks ensue, blah blah. It’s a crappy flick made noticeable by the strange presence of Rodman, and marginally watchable by Rourke, who actually gives Stavros the tiniest glint of surprising gravity, despite how downright silly the whole enterprise is. Loaded with cheese, dated special effects and clichés, it ain’t no picnic, but worth a glance during an inebriated late night channel switching blitz.