Movie Review: Knox Goes Away (2023)

Genre: Crime Drama  

Director: Michael Keaton  

Starring: Michael Keaton, James Marsden, Suzy Nakamura, Al Pacino, Marcia Gay Harden  

Running Time: 114 minutes  

Synopsis: John Knox (Michael Keaton) is a veteran professional assassin who completes assignments with his partner Muncie (Ray McKinnon). Knox is diagnosed with rapidly progressing dementia, and soon afterwards botches a job, leaving behind unintended victims. Then his estranged son Miles (James Marsden) reappears, asking for help to clean up a messy murder. With detective Ikari (Suzy Nakamura) closing in, Knox has to find a way to assist his son before he completely loses his mind.

What Works Well: Michael Keaton directs himself in a thoughtful end-of-the-road drama, where health degradation, professional decline, and personal regrets merge into one final resolution. As director, Keaton demonstrates an eye for interesting angles, while the Gregory Poirier script is admirably interested in all the characters, including Knox's once-a-week mistress (Joanna Kulig) and the detectives sifting through ill-fitting evidence. Jolts of action and violence add a sometimes gory spark, while Al Pacino and Marcia Gay Harden (as Knox' ex-wife) contribute a classy touch to the cast.

What Does Not Work As Well: The complex central plot generates plenty of tactical machinations but with annoyingly opaque objectives, despite easy-to-discern intent.

Key Quote:

Knox: I'm getting worse every hour...it's like a curtain coming down.

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Movie Review: The Panic In Needle Park (1971)

Genre: Addiction Drama

Director: Jerry Schatzberg

Starring: Al Pacino, Kitty Winn

Running Time: 110 minutes

Synopsis: In New York City, street-level drug dealer and heroin user Bobby (Al Pacino) befriends aspiring artist Helen (Kitty Winn). She is drawn into his orbit, they become lovers, and she starts using heroin. Always strapped for cash, they hang-out with other addicts as Sherman Square (nicknamed "Needle Park"). Bobby's petty crimes finance their drugs, but when he is imprisoned, Helen resorts to prostitution.

What Works Well: This is a gritty and clear-eyed look at the miserable lives of addicts on the way to the bottom. Director Jerry Schatzberg spares no details from New York's grubbiest corners: needles in arms, filthy apartments, and overdoses are all portrayed with stark honesty. In his first leading role, Al Pacino brings a soulless yet charming intensity to Bobby, descending from casual user to desperate and delusional addict obsessed with scrounging a few dollars for the next hit. Kitty Winn's Helen traces a tragic downward spiral from middle class artist to scuzzy hooker. Raul Julia and Paul Sorvino appear in early roles.

What Does Not Work As Well: Bobby and Helen's episodes form beads on a thread rather than a traditional plot, and the cacophonic soundtrack featuring the city's traffic and construction noise is quickly annoying.

Conclusion: Not exactly entertaining, but grim and essential.



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Movie Review: House Of Gucci (2021)

A family-and-business saga, House Of Gucci is an engaging but notably ovelong romantic drama-comedy. 

In 1978, Patrizia Reggiani (Lady Gaga) is the daughter of a truck company owner. At a party she meets Maurizio Gucci (Adam Driver), a law student and heir to 50 percent of the luxury brand. She pursues him romantically and they are soon married. Maurizio's father Rodolfo (Jeremy Irons) does not approve of Patrizia, believing she is just a golddigger, but Rodolfo's brother Aldo (Al Pacino) is more welcoming. Aldo's son Paolo (Jared Leto) is the family fool.

The ambitious Patrizia has a sharp business mind and befriends psychic Pina (Salma Hayek). Patrizia then inserts herself into the family's affairs by manipulating Maurizio and Paolo. After Rodolfo's death she tries to manoeuvre for full control, but Maurizio eventually tires of her antics and their marriage heads into trouble, leaving Patrizia vulnerable and deeply resentful.

Inspired by real events, House Of Gucci has the perfumed gloss of a high-end fashion magazine. The screenplay by Becky Johnston and Roberto Bentivegna finds plenty of material spanning more than 15 years in the cocooned world of the wealthy, and maintains admirable energy. Romance, business, connivance, and family feuds ensure a steady stream of narrative twists. Director Ridley Scott stages the Gucci clan antics with bravado, embracing the aloof glamour of wealth. 

And it's a lust for wealth and power that drives Patrizia. The Gucci's themselves are relatively boring, and it's left to an outsider to burst into their world and shake it up, igniting a delicious clash between classism, social ladder-climbing, and eurotrash. It's all fun and games until someone dies, although for better or worse, the film steers towards violence with a silly grin.

The cast is simultaneously captivating and caricaturish. Almost unrecognizable under layers of makeup, Jared Leto is simply out there as Paolo, milking the role of pathetic idiot for all it's worth. Pacino is more restrained but still flamboyant. Lady Gaga and Adam Driver hold the centre of the circus together with assured performances, Gaga's take on Patrizia underlining her demands for a place in the sun, while Driver tracks Maurizio's meandering journey from withdrawn young man to ruthless business tycoon.

At 158 minutes, House Of Gucci is inexcusably too long, Scott's lazy editing allowing every scene and sequence to go on. The characters are over-the-top entertaining, but they could have been hustled along with better discipline.



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Movie Review: You Don't Know Jack (2010)

The factual story of the doctor who forced a discussion on medically-assisted death, You Don't Know Jack portrays a maverick shaking up the world of medicine.

In Detroit of the early 1990s, semi-retired Dr. Jack Kevorkian (Al Pacino) starts to act on his conviction that doctors should be allowed to help their patients die. With support from his sister Margo (Brenda Vaccaro) and friend Neal Nicol (John Goodman), a medical technician, Kevorkian develops the rudimentary "Mercitron" machine, allowing patients to self administer a cocktail of lethal chemicals. He is careful to videotape interviews with each of his patients as they convey their wish to die, and also records their final moments.

As news spreads of his activities, more patients suffering from debilitating conditions seek his services. Kevorkian triggers a national controversy and debate about the right-to-die, and becomes known as Dr. Death. Michigan's state prosecutors haul him into court on several occasions, but his lawyer Geoffrey Fieger (Danny Huston) is victorious every time, because there is no law against assisting suicide. By the late 1990s, Kevorkian becomes eager to enshrine the right to die into law.

Dr. Kevorkian created his legacy in the moral morass where medicine, religion, and the law intersect. This HBO production tells his story in a rather grey semi-documentary style, the controversial material sidelining any attempts at artistry. Director Barry Levinson and writer Adam Mazer focus on the actions and motivations of a unique historical character, tracing factual events and leaning on Al Pacino to embody the doctor's headstrong idiosyncrasies.

Mazer is sympathetic to Kevorkian's convictions that the medical profession needs to re-assess how patients who want to die are treated. His actions stem from a desire to end suffering and respecting patients' wishes. His opponents in the form of street protesters and state prosecutors are driven by religion and dogma, pushing court cases based on no viable laws. Kevorkian and his lawyer Fieger are able to swat away the court challenges, emboldening the doctor. He then pushes further and starts to challenge new limits with the intent of seeking an audience with the land's highest court.

As a single man with no family commitments and near the end of his career, Kevorkian is presented as having nothing to lose as he challenges the status-quo. His motivations stem from personal experiences, and are gradually revealed through Pacino's soulful performance. Levinson rounds out his protagonist with character quirks including frumpy clothing, picky dietary habits, willingness to go on hunger strikes, and, ironically, a steadfast determination to never lend a helping hand when it comes to carrying physical objects. 

As portrayed by an animated Danny Huston, lawyer Geoffrey Fieger radiates swagger pushing into arrogance. In comparison, the other characters surrounding Kevorkian are short-changed. Sister Margo and medical technician Neal barely progress beyond props, and advocate-turned-friend Janet Good (Susan Sarandon) is lost in the shuffle.

It may lack panache and cinematic creativity, but You Don't Know Jack does set the record straight in revealing the human behind the moniker.



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Movie Review: The Irishman (2019)

A sprawling gangland epic, The Irishman weaves a multi-decade story of violence and corruption among mobsters and unions.

At a nursing home, the elderly Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) reminisces about his life, starting in the 1950s when he was an army veteran working as a truck driver in the Philadelphia area. He meets influential mob boss Russell "Russ" Bufalino (Joe Pesci), an associate of respected mobster Angelo Bruno (Harvey Keitel). Starting out as a chauffeur and graduating to assassin, Frank proves himself loyal to Russ. Meanwhile, Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino) runs the powerful Teamsters union, and authorizes pension fund investments in mafia-backed projects.

When Hoffa's position is threatened by rival Tony "Pro" (Stephen Graham), Russell dispatches Frank to prop him up, and the two men become close friends. The appointment of Bobby Kennedy as Attorney General causes Hoffa no shortage of trouble, and he eventually lands in jail. Upon his release in the early 1970s Hoffa insists on wrestling back control of the union, but his behaviour starts to antagonize powerful mob figures, placing Frank in an awkward position.

Reaching deep into the heart and soul of the epic gangster film, Martin Scorsese rolls back the decades and assembles a grand ode to the genre. The Irishman carries echoes of The Godfather, Once Upon A Time In America and Scorsese's own Goodfellas and Casino, but also makes its own mark as a more sombre, contemplative effort. Style, pizzazz and moments of violence underpin the drama without overwhelming it, the emphasis instead placed on men perpetuating an era and then looking back upon it.

Given free rein by Netflix to nurture and create his vision, Scorsese adapts the 2004 non-fiction book I Heard You Paint Houses (a mob reference to blood-splattered walls) by Charles Brandt, chronicling Frank Sheeran's startling life-long association with the mafia and Hoffa. The film runs for 209 minutes covering events from the 1950s to the early 2000s, but thanks to the stellar cast, a powerful Steven Zaillian script and nimble editing, The Irishman earns its length and never drags.

Scorsese's focus is on strong male characters grappling with necessary relationships, friendships and betrayals over the years. Crusty and cut-throat as they are, the men nevertheless forge bonds of respect, reciprocity and loyalty within their crime ridden world. Frank nurtures twin affinities with Russ and Hoffa and over the years becomes an essential communication bridge, the one person trusted by both the mobsters and union boss. His status transforms from enviable to tenuous as personal and business interests diverge.

The conflicted emotions buffeting Frank's life provide the film with a rich central character, and Robert De Niro delivers one of his best late-career performances to convey the complexity of a man comfortable with killing but yet craving and valuing meaningful interpersonal bonds. De Niro and Scorsese use the film's eloquent denouement to fully round out Frank as an old man using his remaining time for reflection, pockets of regret competing with pride.

Russ Bufalino emerges as the most compelling secondary character, Joe Pesci coming out of retirement to exude the quiet disposition of power. Jimmy Hoffa is more broadly drawn as a scrappy boss who perceives the Teamsters union as his own business. Hoffa has no individual identity without being at the helm, and as a result Al Pacino is constrained into a loud, shouty and repetitive performance.

The three lead actors play their characters across the decades, and superimposed digital technology is used to de-age their faces for the early years. It's a semi-successful experiment: the images appear seamless, but the combination of young faces and clearly old bodies and postures is incongruous.

Despite the mammoth length, Scorsese shortchanges the men's families. The women and children remain unfortunate afterthoughts, occasionally dipping into the narrative to pull on the strings of contrition before dropping right out again.

But The Irishman does not disguise its intentions as an intimate portrait of a few hard men painted on a huge canvass of time. Their business was crime and manipulation, their roles fulfilled according to the underworld code where cooperation yields wealth just as stubborn impedance means death.

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Movie Review: Once Upon A Time...In Hollywood (2019)

A comedy-drama, Once Upon A Time...In Hollywood lovingly recreates a slice of time and place but is also inexcusably flabby and lacking in narrative purpose.

In Hollywood of 1969, Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) is struggling to find acting work. He used to be a television western series star working with his best friend and stunt double Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), but Rick failed in his attempted transition to big-screen roles. Now he is reduced to guest-starring on television shows, although agent Marvin Schwarz (Al Pacino) offers him the chance to star in Rome-filmed Spaghetti Westerns. Rick is also dealing with the ignominy of losing his driver's licence due a drinking problem, with Cliff now driving him everywhere.

Rick is neighbours with celebrated director Roman Polanski and his wife actress Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie). She is enjoying her burgeoning stardom and spends an afternoon at the movies watching one of her recent films. Meanwhile as Rick shoots his latest television guest role, Cliff stumbles upon the hangout of the creepy Charles Manson cult at the isolated ranch of his old buddy George Spahn (Bruce Dern).

Featuring a series of vignettes rather than a cohesive plot, Quentin Tarantino writes and directs an ode to an era. 1969 is an assassination-weary inflection point as hippie idealism transitions to 1970s cynicism, with the horrors perpetuated by the Manson maniacs bringing death to the heart of Hollywood. Tarantino uses the looming threat of murder as a backdrop, but otherwise is more interested in celebrating the friendship between Rick and Cliff.

Their bond is the heart of the film, two men with their best days behind them and now confronting fading career prospects, but doing it together. Rick has good and bad moments filming the television pilot, both disappointing and surprising himself before taking a crack at the Italian movie industry. Cliff stands by his friend through thick and thin, picking up scraps of work but mostly supporting Rick because he has essentially nothing else to lean on.

Rick's struggle to accept his career trajectory is an intermittent theme. His drinking and denial get in the way of any positive initiative for transformation, although sparks of pride and talent point to a potential path towards redefinition.

The Sharon Tate chapter stands alone, and is a bittersweet and mostly dialogue-free tribute to an actress delighted by the prospect of her own success. The Manson cult menace intrudes onto both storylines starting with Cliff's visit to the Spahn Movie Ranch, the film's best scene featuring the stuntman infiltrating a twilight zone occupied by lost souls.

Tarantino prolongs the essentially plotless film to a wholly unnecessary 161 minutes. Most scenes are artificially stretched prompting a dance with tedium, and many sequences (hello Bruce Lee and Steve McQueen) are quite pointless. The quest for grandeur is misguided and frequently deflates the film's momentum.

Visually the film is drenched in stark California sunlight, and the production design is excellent in recreating Los Angeles circa 1969 without relying on digital gimmicks. DiCaprio, Pitt and Robbie occupy their roles with relaxed confidence.

The subversive climax features the usual Tarantino outburst of violence mixed with a mean streak of humour, here slightly less bloody than usual but still featuring dollops of gore. Once Upon A Time...In Hollywood expresses a genuine love for the town where movies live, but the good intentions suffer from fundamental narrative fragmentation and plenty of egotistical oversaturation.

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Movie Review: Sea Of Love (1989)

A crime mystery and romance, Sea Of Love is a polished thriller with an engaging premise and good cast, but the film also chases many threads and loses some in the process.

In New York City, police detective Frank Keller (Al Pacino) has reached 20 years of service with no plans to retire. Still not recovered from the breakup of his marriage and drinking heavily, he starts to investigate the murder of a man found naked on his bed and shot through the back of the head, with Phil Phillips' Sea of Love left playing continuously on the turntable. A similar murder in Queens results in detective Sherman Touhey (John Goodman) joining forces with Frank, with clues in both cases pointing to the killer being a woman.

Concluding that the victims were likely killed by a date arranged through magazine personal ads, Frank and Sherman create a sting operation by placing their own ad and going on a series of dates to collect women's fingerprints. One of Frank's dates is Helen Cruger (Ellen Barkin), a spirited single mother and shoe store manager. They start a steamy relationship, with Frank falling in love and convincing himself she is not the killer, but their affair is both passionate and dangerous.

Marking Al Pacino's return to the big screen after a four year hiatus, Sea Of Love offers a bit of everything. A murder mystery with an unknown killer, a detective story featuring a budding friendship and camaraderie between two investigators, a central protagonist in Frank going through a serious mid-life crisis and an inability to cope with a marriage break-up, and Helen as a love interest trying to construct a romantic life as a single mom with a full-time job.

Add in some steamy sex, close-up violence and layers of real and possible lies, and it's remarkable the Richard Price script holds together as well as it does. Director Harold Becker does his best to steer the film is several directions at once, but can only do so much. Once the passion erupts between Frank and Helen the murder investigation aspects are shoved to the background. Frank may be convinced Helen is not the killer, but appears to lose interest altogether in finding the real murderer.

The film's discontinuous attention spans are made tolerable by Pacino and Barkin. He remains well within himself in a relatively calm performance, allowing Frank's slow descent into career and personal depression to gradually wash over him. Barkin is even more subtle, the is-she or isn't-she puzzle demanding a performance that works both ways, and she delivers with an edgy combination of determination, doubt and sensuality.

But a murderer still has to be unmasked, and in the final act Price resorts to borderline cheating and reliance on some sloppy police work to get back to the business of crime solving. Sea Of Love rolls onto a decent shoreline, a bit wet but still serviceable.

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Movie Review: Booby Deerfield (1977)

A romantic drama, Bobby Deerfield is a slow story about love blooming between a racing driver and a dying woman.

In Europe, Bobby Deerfield (Al Pacino) is an American driver on the elite Formula 1 motor racing circuit. Both he and his team are shocked when a fiery race accident claims the life of his teammate. He demands to know the cause of the crash prior to the next race, while his long-time girlfriend Lydia (Anny Duperey) tries to provide comfort.

Bobby heads off to visit Karl Holtzmann, another driver hurt in the wreck and now recuperating. At the hospital he meets the free spirited Lillian Morelli (Marthe Keller), who appears to be a patient but hitches a ride out with Bobby. On the long drive they get to know each other. She talks a lot and asks many questions, while he is reserved and subdued. Nevertheless a romance blossoms as Bobby prepares for his next race.

Although supposedly set in the world of car racing, Bobby Deerfield's profession may as well be watching paint dry. Neither the Alvin Sargent script, adapting the book Heaven Has No Favorites by Erich Maria Remarque, nor director Sydney Pollack appear to have a clue as to how to make use of the sport as a backdrop. So the entire motor racing subtext is reduced to three short and frantic scenes, two of which appear remarkably similar and end in crashes, while the third features an unconvincing crash analysis session.

Most of the film unfolds as a languid European road trip travelogue, Bobby either alone or with Lillian criss-crossing the continent from one barely defined destination to another in pursuit of poorly described purposes. The spectre of death hovering over Bobby and extending from the track to Lillian's disease may have carried some intellectual promise, but the conversations that are supposed to nourish the romance are pointlessly slow to the point of exhaustion. Lillian's lust for a receding life crashes against Bobby's emotional constipation, and they mostly get mad at each other for communicating on different wavelengths. In real terms these two would have fled from each other in opposite directions, but because the script demands it here they fall in love in slow motion.

Al Pacino goes through the entire film with a singular expression of annoyed tedium, although he may be unsuccessfully trying to sort out the meaning of life and death behind the wall of pregnant pauses and one-word non-answers. Marthe Keller overcompensates with an animated portrayal of Lillian, a woman seeking to meet death on her own terms. Anny Duperey shares the pain with her own series of dead-end conversations with Bobby. The rest of the characters are pushed so far into the background none of them register.

The scenery is picturesque, Pollack finding plenty of vistas featuring quaint European towns and idyllic rural landscapes. And here Bobby Deerfield finds its true calling, as a perfect example of cinematic still life.

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Movie Review: Glengarry Glen Ross (1992)

An adaptation of the David Mamet play, Glengarry Glen Ross examines the psyche of frenzied men in an ultra competitive business environment.

In New York, a group of salesmen work at a realty office, using unscrupulous tactics to peddle properties in Florida and Arizona to investors. Williamson (Kevin Spacey) is the office manager and hands out precious leads about potential buyers to the agents.

Roma (Al Pacino) has recently been achieving the best sales figures, and is now wearing down his latest client Lingk (Jonathan Pryce). In contrast the elderly Shelley (Jack Lemmon) is on a long losing streak and getting increasingly desperate, with family health issues adding to his stress. Moss (Ed Harris) is ambitious but unhappy at work, while George (Alan Arkin) feels he is losing his edge.

Blake (Alec Baldwin) arrives from head office and berates the salesmen for their recent poor performance, announcing that most of them will be fired if they don't immediately close more deals.  With Williamson safeguarding a deck of treasured new leads at the office, the men have just a few hours to prove themselves. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and an office break-in adds a new layer of tension to the already strained dynamics between the men.

Featuring a superlative all-male cast and a Mamet script, Glengarry Glen Ross (the title refers to two developments being peddled by the agents) is a profanity-filled high-energy talkfest. The film takes place over just a couple of days, but captures the trauma of alpha males growling at each other to gain every advantage and survive until the next batch of leads are distributed.

All the men are experts at deceit and underhanded sales tactics, and effortlessly flip between smooth talk, pleading and ultra aggressive put-downs depending on the immediate objective. And they are all also pathetic, Glengarry Glen Ross a study of manhood lost to the pursuit of shady profit by victimizing others.

Most of the film takes place at the office and the Chinese restaurant across the street. The theatrical origins are obvious, and some of the overclocked gestures translate poorly to the screen. But director James Foley keeps his focus on the talent-rich cast, often in close-up, and with most of the conversations walking on the edge of hostility, the film rides out the rough patches with ease.

Alec Baldwin's one scene performance as the slick downtown executive berating the sales agents for poor performance and goading them by comparing his success to their pathetic lives has entered into cinematic legend. Mamet added this scene to help extend the short play into feature film length, and while Baldwin's insults are never less than over the top, his unconstrained contempt perfectly sets the stage for the mood of desperation.

In a world where integrity and basic ethics are notably absent, Jack Lemmon shines as yesterday's man, surrendering Shelley to wounded melancholia living on past glories as he frantically seeks to catch a break by any foul means, unaware the sun has set on his career and sales tactics.

Glengarry Glen Ross is where life's dreams of success go to die, submerged in fast talking, subterfuge and self-imposed delusions.

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Movie Review: Author! Author! (1982)

A mild drama, comedy and romance, Author! Author! delves into one man's work and family issues but finds little of interest.

In New York City, Ivan Travalian (Al Pacino) is a respected playwright and loving father of five kids, preparing for the upcoming Broadway debut of his new show. With his producer fretting about costs and a second act that does not work, Ivan has to fire the director and find a new leading lady. On the home front, Ivan's life falls apart when his wife Gloria (Tuesday Weld) admits to having an affair and departs, leaving Ivan in charge of four of her kids from previous marriages plus one boy of his own.

Ivan convinces glamorous movie star Alice Detroit (Dyan Cannon) to join the play, and they are soon romantically involved. She moves in with him but does not enjoy his life of domesticity. Gloria's kids are shuttled off to their respective fathers, but more unexpected complications are lurking to further strain Ivan's personal life.

Written by Israel Horovitz and directed by Arthur Hiller, Author! Author! is a mundane nonentity that awkwardly sniffs around a couple of topics and departs with no impact. While Ivan's life contains nuggets of potential interest, Horovitz genuinely seems to have nothing to say, and neither the putting-on-a-play nor the family-in-turmoil parts of the story appear to head in any specific direction.

Ivan is a loving father doing his best in a modern family full of kids assembled from previous and current marriages. But as a sorry indication of the film's shiftless non-presence this part of Ivan's life somehow ends up on a rooftop with back and forth hollering to the street below featuring incompetent cops and one of the kids' other fathers.

Back at rehearsals, Ivan cannot get the second act of his play to work, and after plenty of toil Horovitz and Hiller decide to just abandon that particular subplot in favour of stock sentimentality.  Meanwhile, the two women are provided with no context other than their interactions with Ivan, Gloria and Alice barely defined beyond plastic plot devices.

The film may have worked better as an intriguing character study with a better central performance, but Al Pacino cruises with a singularly lackadaisical attitude, never shifting away from harried-but-still-cool guy.

Author! Author! ends with the manufactured excitement of a Broadway opening night, but the film barely deserves to make it past the first draft.

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Movie Review: Righteous Kill (2008)

A police drama featuring two veteran acting heavyweights, Righteous Kill wastes its cast on a tired and lacklustre premise and a dreadful twist.

A grainy tape appears to show police detective Turk (Robert De Niro) confessing to a series of extrajudicial murders, violently disposing of criminals who escape the law. In flashback, it is revealed that Turk (Robert De Niro) and fellow veteran detective Rooster (Al Pacino) have been partners for a long time, with Turk frequently combustible and Rooster more laidback. Turk blows steam through a sex-only relationship with detective Karen Corelli (Carla Gugino), who likes her intercourse sessions on the rough side.

A while back Turk resorted to planting evidence to apprehend a rapist and killer who had cheated the justice system. Soon thereafter, the murders of other criminals start. A short poem is left at the scene of each crime, earning the serial killer the moniker "Poetry Boy". With Lieutenant Hingis (Brian Dennehy) demanding answers, Turk and Rooster alternately cooperate and clash with younger detectives Perez (John Leguizamo) and Riley (Donnie Wahlberg). Suspicion begins to swirl around Turk, but the murder rate only accelerates.

De Niro and Pacino co-starred in the stellar Heat, but here they share many more scenes and are often on the screen together. 30 years prior they were two of the most celebrated and intense actors on the planet, and it's testament to their talent and endurance that Righteous Kill only matters because they are in it.

But that's where any notions that this is a good film come to a grinding and comprehensive stop. Directed by Jon Avnet and written by Russell Gewirtz, Righteous Kill is devoid of tension, suspense, action or any semblance of artistry. The murders are mechanical, soulless and mostly presented in a context vacuum, and the premise of cops turning into killers to clean up the mistakes of the justice system was old back in the 1970s.

The rest of the movie consists of anywhere between two and five cops on the screen talking, bickering and regurgitating the same arguments. They insult each other and get in each other's faces before sullenly going off to the next murder scene. Rinse and repeat. The robotic scenes are only interrupted by Turk's narrated confession on a grainy recording, a set-up for a cheap movie trick that would have been rejected in an introductory scriptwriting class. Rather than rescue the film, the twist ending buries it deeper in the dustbin.

Watching De Niro and Pacino is never less than worthwhile; it's such a pity that this collaboration arrived so late, and on such a righteously feeble project.

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Movie Review: Danny Collins (2015)

A dramatic comedy with some music, Danny Collins is about better-late-than-never priority adjustments. The film succeeds by staying within itself despite falling into some melodramatic traps.

Danny Collins (Al Pacino) is a singer in the twilight of his career, milking his hit songs from decades past in front of an antiquated audience. He is frequently high on coke, and superficially enjoys the trappings of fame including a huge mansion and trophy girlfriend Sophie (Katarina Čas). When his long-time manager and friend Frank (Christopher Plummer) unearths a letter to Danny written by John Lennon in the early 1970s but never delivered, the performer is shaken out of his stupor.

Recognizing he may have wasted away a career, Danny abandons his latest tour, ditches Sophie, cleans up, and relocates to a modest Hilton in New Jersey to reach out to his long estranged son Tom (Bobby Cannavale). He finds Tom, his wife Samantha (Jennifer Garner) and daughter Hope living a modest middle class life. Danny also meets and try to woo the hotel's resistant manager Mary (Annette Bening). Although at first Tom wants nothing to do with his father, Hope's ADHD and a family sickness provide the now persistent Danny an opportunity to reset some relationships.

Written and directed by Dan Fogelman, Danny Collins is a low-key character study brought to life by an irrepressible Al Pacino performance. Despite his late career crisis, Collins is written to stay true to his rascal tendencies, allowing Pacino to ride the wave of a consummate entertainer intent on making some changes but never straying far from who he is. Even as he sets up in a nondescript New Jersey suburb, Danny enjoys his fame and fortune, is not hesitant to flaunt his wealth and influence, and is happy to dole out advice and pursue Mary with minimal subtlety.

The scenes with Danny getting to know Tom and his family benefit most from this focus on realistic human behaviour, with both father, son and daughter-in-law reacting with laudable maturity within the field of awkwardness. Danny is too old to worry about his own feelings, so he just niggles his way through the initial barriers to find the openings where he can make some amends to a life of neglect. Tom and Samantha are pragmatic enough to appreciate effort and good fortune when it smiles on them.

The film's weaknesses reside with the eye rolling introduction of a serious disease, layered on top of young Hope's ADHD. It almost makes Danny's restitution mission too easy, fast forwarding the familial bonding opportunities to tidily fit into the under two hours of running time. Danny's romantic pursuit of Mary fares better, her wariness of the celebrity at her modest hotel providing a sturdy defence against his frontal advances.

Danny Collins may lack boldness and any sort of cutting edge, but it's a well-rounded effort delivered with a veteran's sure touch.

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Movie Review: The Devil's Advocate (1997)

A supernatural courtroom drama, The Devil's Advocate takes a fiendish look at the world of high-stakes corporate law to find a literal hell on earth filled with souls for sale.

In Gainesville, Florida, Kevin Lomax (Keanu Reeves) is a handsome and cocky hot shot defence lawyer. Raised by his deeply religious single mother Alice (Judith Ivey) and married to the vivacious Mary Ann (Charlize Theron), Kevin has never lost a case. Facing his worst crisis as he defends a pervert school teacher against charges of sexual molestation, Kevin pauses in the men's room to gather his thoughts before proceeding to shred the testimony of the young victim. He secures a stunning not-guilty verdict.

Soon after, Kevin is recruited by a New York City law firm headed by John Milton (Al Pacino), and is quickly sucked into the lavish corporate culture alongside Milton's fellow executives Eddie Barzoon (Jeffrey Jones) and Christabella Andreoli (Connie Nielsen). But despite being handed the keys to a highly coveted apartment overlooking Central Park, Kevin's marriage to Mary Ann starts to suffer as she struggles to adapt to their new life. With Kevin's career soaring under Milton's mentorship, he is provided with the opportunity of a lifetime to defend real estate tycoon Alexander Cullen (Craig T. Nelson), accused of a triple murder. With his wife and marriage falling apart, the young lawyer begins to understand the price to be paid in return for tainted courtroom success.

Directed by Taylor Hackford and based on the Andrew Neiderman book, The Devil's Advocate is glossy fun. The mix of adult themes wrapped into a devil's agenda narrative and plonked into the world of criminal law could have been a righteous mess, but Hackford maintains good control, helped by a polished screenplay co-written by Jonathan Lemkin and Tony Gilroy.

The Devil's Advocate carries many parallels with the equally good legal thriller The Firm, and inflates the cost of morally vague legal quests to its ultimate conclusion. Hackford brings in Alice's religious extremism as the counterweight to devilish desires, and includes liberal doses of crime, sexuality and extremes of wealth to create the domain where evil thrives.

The film quickly gets down to the business of justice versus ethics, and the moral dilemma of proving innocence in a legal system that requires lawyers to stand by their clients no matter how putrid. It's a small step from there towards discarding principles of right and wrong and simply chasing the winning outcome at all costs, an apt description of selling the soul to maintain ever higher charge-out rates. If the devil and his acolytes were to choose a profession, defending the indefensible is a better choice than most.

The Devil's Advocate hurtles towards Kevin coming to terms with his own destiny from the perspective of Milton's reality, with Christabella equally thrust into a central role as far as humanity's future is concerned. In a wild climax Hackford does lose some discipline, with the lure of the supernatural and Pacino's tendencies to veer towards excess overpowering the more cerebral aspects of the material.

But to its credit, The Devil's Advocate does not shy away from the human responsibility to be accountable for each decision. As Milton insists to Kevin, there are choices at every step, and indeed Milton on several occasions offers up failure and withdrawal as viable options. It is up to Kevin to decide how far he will push himself into the moral morass; the devil just sets the stage for man's foibles to flourish.

In a career littered with performances that resemble sleep-walking, Keanu Reeves is much more animated as Kevin Lomax, finally unshackling some passion and emotional depth. In her breakout role Charlize Theron is a revelation, the character of Mary Ann having the longest arc and traveling from joyous small-town wife to a big-city victim struggling with her husband's increasing work obsession and sinister colleagues.

Equally campy and creepy, The Devil's Advocate makes a compelling case for demonic entertainment.

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Movie Review: Carlito's Way (1993)

A familiar crime drama with a good cast and quality execution, Carlito's Way suffers from an inability to break away from overexposed genre elements.

New York City, the late 1970s. Puerto Rican mobster Carlito Brigante (Al Pacino) is shot at close range at a train station. As he lies between life and death, he remembers his most recent adventures in crime. His lawyer and good friend David Kleinfeld (Sean Penn) helped to release Carlito from prison on a technicality after serving just 5 years of a 30 years sentence on narcotics charges. Carlito vows to go straight, but at every turn, his former associates and reputation drag him back towards a life of crime. He finds himself inadvertently involved in a shootout at a drug deal gone bad, before Kleinfeld helps him settle down to manage Club Paradise, a hangout where assorted criminals and wannabe mobsters flash their money.

Carlito reconnects with former girlfriend and dancer Gail (Penelope Ann Miller), but she is not sure that she wants to restart a relationship despite his dreams of relocating to a quiet life on a Caribbean island. At the club, Carlito is disgusted by a new generation of cocky gangsters, including Benny Blanco (John Leguizamo). Meanwhile District Attorney Bill Norwalk (James Rebhorn) is doing all he can to put Carlito back behind bars, while Kleinfeld develops a bad cocaine addiction and tangles with incarcerated mobster Tony T, sucking Carlito into further trouble.

Directed by Brian De Palma and based on books by Edwin Torres, there is not much wrong with Carlito's Way, but equally, not much that is new or original. This is a standard fare crime drama, delivered with an emphasis on quality and solid-enough performances. It is also several notches below what De Palma and Pacino offered in 1983's Scarface, and on the heels of excellent gangster films like De Palma's Untouchables and Scorsese's Goodfellas, Carlito's Way drops into a no-man's land where predictability meets retreads.

The narration adds little to the narrative, and continuously spoon-feeds Carlito's repeatedly stated desire to steer away from crime. But perhaps the film's weakest element is lack of character depth. Beyond many references to Carlito's "street" upbringing shaping his code of conduct, all the other characters remain flat representations of the girlfriend, the associates and the hoodlums. Even the supposedly central character of Kleinfeld is represented as a coked-up lawyer getting in over his head; the script offers nothing in the way of background for Sean Penn to sink his teeth into.

The action scenes are adequate without ever threatening to raise the pulse. De Palma frequently deploys pleasingly fluid long takes to capture high energy motion, giving the quicker scenes a sense of calm rationality. The main highlight comes early when Carlito stumbles into a seedy barber shop back room and contributes to a bloodbath. Otherwise, a prolonged subway chase teeters on the edge of comic overkill. The climax at Grand Central Station is good, but the film starts with Carlito gunned down, so much of the sting is removed from the tail.

Al Pacino does enough to maintain interest, staying away from excesses but ensuring sufficient intensity when needed. Penelope Ann Miller sticks to an almost spectral representation of the ideal girlfriend for a hoodlum, the dancer unable to find a break away from strip clubs much in the same way Carlito can't escape his destiny as a criminal. Viggo Mortensen appears in one scene as a formerly smooth criminal who has fallen onto hard times.

With a music score filled with mid to late 1970s disco tunes, Carlito's Way recreates an era of decadence and the thugs looking for a shortcut to riches. It's an unremarkable if competent reiteration of an often-told story.

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Movie Review: Heat (1995)

A contemporary crime drama, Heat unites legends Al Pacino and Robert De Niro in a masterful story of two men on either side of the law willing to do anything to achieve success in their chosen professions.

In Los Angeles, crime boss Neil McCauley (De Niro) and his gang execute their latest score: an audacious robbery of bearer bonds out of an armored truck. Neil's regular and dependable gang members include Chris (Val Kilmer), Michael (Tom Sizemore) and Trejo (Danny Trejo). The unstable Waingro (Kevin Gage) is a late addition to the team, and he perpetuates a bloodbath that results in three security guards being killed. Neil's fence and outlet to the legitimate world is Nate (Jon Voight), and he tries to arrange a buy-back deal for the stolen bonds. But the victim, corrupt businessman Roger Van Zant (William Fichtner), decides that severe revenge is the best response.

The robbery brings Neil gang to the attention of Los Angeles Police Department Lieutenant Vincent Hanna (Al Pacino) and his crew of investigators, and they place Neil's men under surveillance. Neil meets and starts a relationship with Eady (Amy Brenneman), although his personal philosophy is to never get emotionally involved with anyone. Vincent's marriage to Justine (Diane Venora) is in trouble thanks to his obsession with work, and his stepdaughter Lauren (Natalie Portman) is feeling the strain. Meanwhile Chris has a gambling problem and fritters away his crime proceedings, much to the disgust of his wife Charlene (Ashley Judd).

Vincent attempts to nab Neil's gang as they strike against a precious metals depository. But Neil is half a step ahead, and a dangerous chase game ensues, both men determined to continue doing what they do best.

Directed and written by Michael Mann, Heat is a dark, complex, and character-driven crime story, inspired by real events and delivered by a superlative cast in top form. For the first on-screen pairing of Al Pacino and Robert De Niro (they both starred in Godfather Part II but in different time eras), Heat conjures up an existential duel suitable for two of the all-time finest actors to sink their teeth into. The film runs for a mammoth 170 minutes, but never drags. Mann injects enough texture, human emotion and deep character interactions to keep the drama humming along at a steady clip.

Heat never betrays its character motivations. At the centre of the film are two professionals who care deeply about what they do and will sacrifice everything to achieve their objectives. Vincent is on his third marriage, and fully understands that his home life is doomed to suffer as his real attachment is to the task of bringing scum to justice. Neil is dedicated to the craft of high-stakes heists, and has simplified his life down to the principle of being ready to abandon absolutely everything and flee in 30 seconds or less. Neither man will yield, and they admit as much to each other in a seminal meeting over coffee about halfway through the film.

Mann surrounds Neil and Vincent with a memorable group of hoods with their own stories and motivations, elevating Heat into a multi-faceted crime epic. Chris has a sizable gambling problem undermining his marriage. Michael has managed his finances much better, and can call it quits whenever he likes. Waingro is a nutcase, and his unpredictable behaviour will play a key role in the story. Van Zant is the wolf in expensive clothing, a tailored suit hiding a monstrous ego and murderous ambitions for bloody revenge. Despite most of the men being despicable criminals, Heat does not forget that they are all also human beings.

The women serve to humanize the men, and the key characters are grounded by domestic fronts that serve as reminders that there may be more to life than crime, investigation and violence. Justine is aching to reclaim her man but is also not beyond hurting him, while her daughter Lauren is in a lot of emotional trouble. Eady unexpectedly eases her way into Neil's heart, adding a reason for him to question whether tangling with the dogged Vincent is worth the risk. And Charlene suffers the cruelest fate, having to contend with all her husband's risk-taking but enjoying none of the rewards, as he gambles away his cut from every score.

And when it's time for the action set-pieces, Mann delivers some astounding beauties. The initial armored truck assault is short, sharp, vivid and ultimately brutal. An ambush in an abandoned drive-in parking lot follows, revealing the depth of treachery among thieves. The highlight is a jaw-dropping and prolonged street shootout after a botched bank hold-up, Neil and his men attempting to fight their way out of Vincent's suddenly tightening noose, Mann turning a section of Los Angeles into a harrowing war zone complete with blazing assault rifles. And the climax works its way through a series of score-settling punctuation marks, ending with a tense one-one-one showdown on the LAX tarmac.

Heat adds a smooth aesthetic augmented by atmospheric music. The Dante Spinotti cinematography is cool and crisp, often making use of the city lights by night to punctuate dark blue hues with glittering gold. Elliot Goldenthal provides a moody and evocative music score.

Ambitious in scale yet taut in execution, Heat shines at a white hot temperature.

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Movie Review: 88 Minutes (2007)

A routine chase thriller about a forensic psychiatrist threatened by a determined killer, 88 Minutes struggles to generate new ideas and eventually sinks into endless driving around and cell phone conversations.

In Seattle, Dr. Jack Gramm (Al Pacino) is a celebrated criminal court expert witness and university lecturer who helps to put killers away by testifying about their mental state. Years prior he helped to convict Jon Forster (Neal McDonough), known as the "Seattle Slayer" for a series of grotesque killings. Forster vowed revenge against Gramm. Now the clock is ticking down to Forster's hour of execution. Suddenly Gramm receives a threatening call informing him that he has 88 minutes to live; and people around him start showing up dead, killed using Forster's methods.

Gramm does not know who to trust, but teams up with his teacher's assistant Kim (Alicia Witt) and his office manager Shelly (Amy Brenneman) to try and track down the source of the threats. The Dean of Students Carol Johnson (Deborah Kara Unger) and FBI Special Agent Parks (William Forsythe) both begin to suspect that Gramm is hiding something. Gramm's student Lauren (Leelee Sobieski) has a narrow escape from the killer, while another student Mike (Benjamin McKenzie) starts to snoop around Gramm's affairs.

Not even the substantial presence of Pacino can rescue a poor Gary Scott Thompson script bereft of any fresh content. As robotically directed by Jon Avnet, 88 Minutes mostly consists of Pacino driving from point A to point B, encountering a bland surprise, receiving and making cell phone calls, and then driving from point B to point C to repeat the process. As Gramm loops around Vancouver (standing in for Seattle) a half dozen times, and barks into his phone umpteen more times, the suspense and drama slowly and steadily seep away.

The rushed introduction of some really clumsy sub-plots involving Kim's boyfriend and a shady university security guard hinder rather than help the ponderous plot. An attempt to provide Gramm with a backstory involving his dead sister equally falls flat. Pacino applies his dour and arrogant mode to reasonably good effect, and generally avoids the excesses that he popularized and then over-deployed. But the supporting cast is pretty basic, and never rises above monotones.

Once the death threats start, 88 Minutes takes place in almost-real time, but rarely have so few minutes felt so long.

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Movie Review: ...And Justice For All (1979)

The story of a lawyer going through a really rough patch with assorted clients and unhinged judges, ...And Justice For All totters uneasily between drama and comedy.

In Baltimore, lawyer Arthur Kirkland (Al Pacino) is energetic, idealistic and hot-headed. He is also in trouble for throwing a punch at Judge Henry T. Fleming (John Forsythe), who is not allowing Arthur to introduce evidence that can clear his client Jeff McCullaugh (Thomas G. Waites), trapped in jail as a victim of mistaken identity. Arthur's next case is Ralph Agee (Robert Christian), a vulnerable transvestite accused of participating in a robbery. Arthur is also dealing with the jovial but seemingly suicidal Judge Francis Rayford (Jack Warden), an investigative committee conducting a corruption witch hunt, and a partner who has gone over the edge of sanity.

Arthur starts a relationship with committee member Gail Packer (Christine Lahti), while his one anchor in life is his grandfather Sam (Lee Strasberg) who supported him through law school. Sam is now confined to a care home and is slipping into worsening dementia. Arthur's already stressed schedule receives another surprise: Fleming is accused of a brutal assault and rape, and demands that Arthur lead his defence team. With both McCullaugh and Agee reaching the limits of their sanity, Arthur finds himself stretched to the breaking point.

It's never quite clear whether director Norman Jewison was aiming for a mostly serious exposé of the legal profession or a more lighthearted satire. Long stretches of ...And Justice For All play like a dedicated drama, condemning a culture where lawyers and judges are running amok and a justice system that no longer works for the little guy. Clients are in anguish, the explosive rape case threatens the sanctity of the bench, plenty of scenes feature angry shouting, and Arthur is threatened with disbarment.

But then there are the streaks of dark humour that sit uneasily amidst all the tension. There is a standoff in a hallways with dinner plates used as weapons. Judge Rayford takes Arthur on a harrowing helicopter ride with the sole purpose of perhaps wanting to kill himself by intentionally running out of fuel. And the attorney (Craig T. Nelson) prosecuting the Fleming case is borderline psychotic, hissing megalomaniacal intent in Arthur's face. It may be that the more laugh-worthy moments are intended to highlight the absurdity of Arthur's plight, but the humour never seems to fit properly within the script by Valerie Curtin and Barry Levinson.

Pacino races through the film with unreserved dedication. So much content is thrown into Arthur's life that it's a miracle he ever finds time to sleep, and Pacino is perfect as a lawyer running hard but nevertheless gradually losing the battle against an overwhelming professional and personal case load. The supporting cast is capable but rather static, with none of the secondary characters encountering any kind of evolution.

Arthur, losing it during his opening statement defending Fleming: "You're out of order! You're out of order! The whole trial is out of order! They're out of order!"

...And Justice For All ends with a famously fiery courtroom scene, Arthur finally deciding that enough is enough when it comes to defending Fleming, and exploding into his "You're Out Of Order!" tirade. It's a suitably frantic ending to an enthusiastic but rather messy film that overflows with both too much plot and too many contradictory tones.

Arthur, as he is being thrown out of the courtroom now in complete chaos: "Hold it! Hold it! I just completed my opening statement!"

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