Movie Review: The Brink's Job (1978)

Genre: Heist Dramedy  

Director: William Friedkin  

Starring: Peter Falk, Peter Boyle, Warren Oates, Paul Sorvino, Gena Rowlands  

Running Time: 104 minutes  

Synopsis: In Boston of the late 1940s, life-long thief Tony Pino (Peter Falk) stumbles onto the headquarters of the Brink's armored car company, and finds it lightly guarded despite a reputation for being impregnable. He plots a heist to infiltrate the building and steal the safe contents. His co-conspirators include his dim brother-in-law Vinnie (Allen Garfield), fence Joe McGinnis (Peter Boyle), unhinged army veteran and self-proclaimed explosives expert Specs O'Keefe (Warren Oates), and daytime accountant Jazz Maffie (Paul Sorvino). The men are hardly competent, but the theft makes history.

What Works Well: Lovingly detailed glistening sets recreate mid-century Boston and breathe life into the true story of what was at the time the largest and most audacious robbery in the history of the United States. The sense of place complements a group of none-too-bright rogues and mavericks stumbling onto the theft of a lifetime, with an engaging Peter Falk as Tony Pino acting as the glue that binds the gang together.

What Does Not Work As Well: Despite the best efforts of a cast filled with sturdy character actors, the Walon Green script fails to build depth and settles for superficial representations. Director William Friedkin never gets the balance right between heist fundamentals, crime drama, and wry humour, and occasionally surrenders to unworthy slapstick. Already compromised by Falk's fading influence, the wayward third act is cluttered by the underdeveloped involvement of the FBI, and finally sunk by basic inattention to timeline clarity and important events. Gena Rowlands as Pino's wife Mary is sadly sidelined.

Key Quote:

Tony (to Mary): The building is asleep, and all that money is in there, and they're being held prisoner. And it's screaming at me through the walls. And it's yelling "Hey Tony, come in and grab me! Get me outta here!"



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Movie Review: Hardcore (1979)

Genre: Drama  

Director: Paul Schrader  

Starring: George C. Scott, Peter Boyle, Season Hubley  

Running Time: 108 minutes  

Synopsis: In Grand Rapids, Michigan, Jake Van Dorn (George C. Scott) is a successful business owner and a conservative Calvinist. His daughter Kristen departs to a church-organized summer camp in the Los Angeles area, but then disappears. With the police disinterested, Jake hires private detective Mast (Peter Boyle), who uncovers evidence Kristen has entered the pornography trade. Jake travels to Los Angeles to pursue leads, and after many dead-ends teams up with prostitute and porn actress Niki (Season Hubley) to infiltrate the industry and search for his daughter. 

What Works Well: In this eyes-wide-open journey into the sordid world of sex-for-sale, writer and director Paul Schrader navigates an underbelly milieu populated by an assortment of seedy product creators. From film producers raking in millions to lowly performers eking out a peep show living, a heavy-hearted George C. Scott as Jake Van Dorn bumbles his way into a neon-drenched environment far removed from his tidy suburban God-worshipping existence. Although Kristen is a minor presence, Schrader avoids obvious exploitation narratives, and through the character of Niki successfully finds heart, soul, and pathos in the gutter. 

What Does Not Work As Well: Jake's transformation from anguished father to man-with-a-plan is quite sudden; and the final resolution is emotionally rushed.

Conclusion: A post-viewing cleansing shower is recommended.



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Movie Review: Outland (1981)

Genre: Science Fiction Thriller

Director: Peter Hyams

Starring: Sean Connery, Peter Boyle, Frances Sternhagen, James Sikking

Running Time: 109 minutes

Synopsis: In the future, William O'Niel (Sean Connery) is the new Marshal on Jupiter's moon Io, home to a mining operation managed by Mark Sheppard (Peter Boyle). O'Neil's wife (Kika Markham) is unable to deal with the isolation and leaves him. Along with base doctor Lazarus (Frances Sternhagen), O'Neil investigates an alarming number of miners demonstrating suicidal and irrational behaviour. He uncovers an illegal performance-enhancing drug operation and finds his own life threatened.

What Works Well: The ramshackle industry-in-space aesthetic provides a grounded context and some captivating sets. With Frances Sternhagen contributing acerbic support, Sean Connery is excellent in the few scenes that demand humanity, and the best moments allow reflection on career trajectories crash-landing at remote mining outposts.

What Does Not Work As Well: A startling lack of imagination results in uniforms, haircuts, weapons (shotguns!), and details (corded phones!) that belong in the 1980s rather than the distant future. Without managing to build tension, director Peter Hyams takes his time to establish a High Noon-in-space showdown, and after a mediocre middle act comprehensively botches the climax with non-descript bad guys and lackluster resolutions.

Conclusion: Aims high, but the execution is decidedly underwhelming.

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Movie Review: The Friends Of Eddie Coyle (1973)

A gritty crime drama, The Friends Of Eddie Coyle is a study of one character facing a host of bad choices.

In Boston, Eddie Coyle (Robert Mitchum) is a low-key lifelong associate of criminals, hovering on the margins of more hardened mobsters. Middle-aged and married with young kids, Eddie is dreading the prospect of a two year prison sentence after a conviction for driving a truck filled with embezzled goods. He nevertheless continues dabbling in crime, buying stolen guns from supplier Jackie Brown (Steven Keats) and providing them to a bank-robbing gang led by Jimmy Scalise (Alex Rocco) and Artie Van (Joe Santos). 

Eddie's friend Dillon (Peter Boyle) runs a bar popular with criminal types, and is also an informant providing tips to agent Dave Foley (Richard Jordan) of the Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms bureau. Eddie is desperate to avoid jail time, and reaches out to Foley requesting leniency in exchange for tips. But this means Eddie will need to rat on his friends, with unpredictable outcomes. 

An adaptation of a George V. Higgins book, The Friends Of Eddie Coyle is so nearly a great experience. Writer Paul Monash trusts his audience to fill the necessary gaps, and provides a sparse screenplay ready to leap between scenes with confidence bordering on arrogance. Director Peter Yates does the rest with understated panache, capturing non-descript Boston corners populated by desperate men who should know better than to still be dabbling in trading guns and robbing banks.

At the centre of it all is the sad Eddie Coyle, brought to life by one of Robert Mitchum's best performances. Here is a middle aged man with a nominal job, a wife, and kids, almost within touching distance of the lower rungs of the middle class. Staring at a looming prison stint and living in a world with real codes but no real friends, he has nowhere to go but sideways towards more crime and maybe downwards when his luck runs out.

But the movie suffers from some fundamental problems, including not devoting enough time to Eddie nor his friends. Instead Yates burns many scenes and many minutes on the methodical bank robberies, indistinguishable criminals in masks holding irrelevant tertiary characters as hostages while safes are emptied. Two complete and almost identical heists make it to the screen, a third one is attempted, and none of them add much to the plot. Another long sequence featuring arrest mechanics also turns into a distraction and narrative dead-end.

The wasted emphasis is more of a pity because the time could have been invested on character definition. Jackie the gun seller, Dillon the bar operator, and Foley the cop all demonstrate promise and could have been rounded into compelling and memorable occupants of Eddie's world. Instead they are stranded in stock representations spouting canned tough-guy dialogue with no backstories.

The Friends Of Eddie Coyle are a grim bunch, their story suitably downcast but deserving of better depth.



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Movie Review: The Candidate (1972)

An inside look at an election campaign from humble beginnings to election night, The Candidate is immersed in the cacophony of creating energy and momentum at the cost of abandoned values.

Veteran campaign manager Marvin Lucas (Peter Boyle) goes looking for a Democratic candidate to challenge popular Republican incumbent Crocker Jarmon (Don Porter) in the upcoming California election race for Senator. He settles on relative unknown Bill McKay (Robert Redford), an idealistic social activist and son of former governor John J. McKay (Melvyn Douglas).

Bill is initially reluctant, and agrees to run only if he remains unfiltered and honest in all his communications. From initial stumbling outings at scarcely attended events, he gradually builds momentum, closing the gap in opinion polls. With his entourage of handlers growing McKay's message and image become much more polished, and he emerges as a credible threat to Jarmon as voting day approaches.

A political drama with a few touches of humour, The Candidate traces the build-up of one man's public image, from relative unknown to charismatic challenger. Early in his initially fledgling campaign Bill McKay delivers a speech to a large room filled with hundreds of empty cheap folding chairs and a couple of old geezers. With election day beckoning his candidacy catches fire, and he is continuously surrounded by supporters and oversized posters of his face, barely able to move without being mobbed.

This transformation is the subject of Jeremy Larner's script, and director Michael Ritchie adopts a high energy documentary style, cameras constantly on the move chasing McKay from event to event as he hones his message and grows comfortable in the spotlight. McKay and Lucas scale an undeniable high as they start to believe Jarmon can genuinely be defeated, and the mutual exchange of nourishing energy between the candidate and his growing army of supporters is palpable.

Along the way, McKay loses all that he started with. His stump message becomes repetitive, simplistic and utterly banal. He learns to deliver it with conviction and the crowds love it, but his promises are devoid of content and details. Externally he beams, waves and pretends to love the adulation. In private moments he knows he is selling out like every other politician, delivering what the masses think they want, not what they need.

Ritchie wedges his cameras into the hustle and bustle of makeshift strategy rooms and campaign stops, The Candidate a non-stop on-the-run sequence of jostling and jerkiness. The background noise and overlapping conversations are also incessant. Larner's script thrives on phones ringing, hordes banging on doors, hangers-on either shouting over or interrupting each other and engaging in their own sidebar conversations. It may all be admirably realistic, but eventually exhausting and marginally irritating as a cinematic experience.

With all the focus on event mechanics, The Candidate neglects to round out its central characters. Both McKay and Lucas are defined only by the trajectory of the election, with precious few moments for the men behind mission. Whenever McKay tries to find a quiet moment to think or hold a serious conversation the phone rings or a mob invades the room, a familiar case of political noise trumping any genuine reflection on policy.

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Movie Review: Red Heat (1988)

A prototypical buddy cop action movie, Red Heat is all about flying bullets, macho men and attempts at witty one-liners. Some of it works, but most of it doesn't.

In Moscow, Captain Ivan Danko (Arnold Schwarzenegger) tracks down lethal drug trafficker Viktor Rostavili (Ed O'Ross). The criminal escapes and lands in Chicago, where he establishes contact with local thugs and arranges for a major new drug deal. When Viktor is picked up for a minor traffic infraction by Detective Art Ridzik (Jim Belushi), Danko arrives from Moscow to escort the prisoner back to the Soviet Union. Nothing goes as planned, Viktor is soon loose and carnage is unleashed on the streets of Chicago.

Directed and co-written by Walter Hill, who helped invent the buddy cop movie in 48 Hrs., Red Heat is a generic example of the genre and offers an episodic, incomprehensible and generally irrelevant plot that serves no purpose other than moving the action from one set-piece to the next. A good portion of the film has characters speaking in Russian with no subtitles, and once the setting moves to Chicago, Hill's sole preoccupation is to create the opportunity for Danko's next one-liner and Ridzik's next snarky retort as they engage in firefights and running battles with the bad guys using progressively bigger machinery.

The action is of course over the top, the mayhem on a grand scale, as the pursuit of one man converts Chicago into a war zone. In his brief time in Chicago Viktor manages to both get married to dance instructor Catherine Manzetti (Gina Gershon) and antagonize a gang of heavily-armed black thugs, ensuring that Danko and Ridzik have plenty of reasons to pursue suspects and dodge high-calibre bullets. Somewhere in there Hill throws in a MacGuffin in the form of a locker key where a bag full of something important is locked up, triggering plenty of chases, threats and hissing matches.

Schwarzenegger as a straitlaced Soviet cop is more subdued and emotionless than usual, maintaining a fixed expression and monotone delivery of monosyllabic words. Belushi fills the gap with an over-animated take on cynical Chicago cop Ridzik. Peter Boyle and Laurence Fishburne are generally wasted in generic roles as Ridzik's superiors.

Ridzik: Well, tell me something, Captain. If you've got such a fucking paradise over there, how come you're up the same creek as we are with heroin and cocaine?
Danko: Chinese find way. Right after revolution, they round up all drug dealers, all drug addicts, take them to public square, and shoot them in back of head.
Ridzik: Ah, it'd never work here. Fucking politicians wouldn't go for it.
Danko: Shoot them first.

At no time does the film pause to take a breath, explain itself, or attempt to find any character depth, at least not in English. Red Heat tosses in a few good zingers and boasts reasonable production values, but while the temperature is high, there is nothing of substance in the oven.

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Movie Review: Johnny Dangerously (1984)

A comic parody of 1930s-style gangster films, Johnny Dangerously tries hard but misses most of its targets.

Johnny Kelly (Michael Keaton) now operates a pet store. He catches a would-be young thief in the act, sits him down and explains that crime does not pay by recounting his life story. Johnny was brought up on the street corners of New York City, and his Ma (Maureen Stapleton) was perpetually sick and in need of expensive surgical procedures. To secure the money Johnny drifted into a life of crime and joined the gang of Jocko Dundee (Peter Boyle), saving Jocko's life in a gunfight with the rival gang of Roman Moronie (Richard Dimitri).

Johnny adopts the flashy surname of Dangerously and rises through the ranks to become Jocko's second in command while fending off the threat of long-time rival Danny Vermin (Joe Piscopo). He meets and marries showgirl Lil Sheridan (Marilu Henner), and helps his brother Tommy (Griffin Dunne) get an education as a lawyer. Jocko and Johnny have the law in control by keeping District Attorney Burr (Danny DeVito) on the payroll, but trouble arrives when Tommy graduates and embarks on an anti-crime career, setting himself on a collision course with his brother.

Directed by Amy Heckerling and written by a clumsy committee of four, Johnny Dangerously is only occasionally funny. Heckerling and Keaton were coming off successful but small films in the form of Fast Times At Ridgemont High and Mr. Mom respectively, and perhaps bit off more than they were ready to chew. Despite a barrage of jokes and visual gags, Johnny Dangerously sets the sophistication bar quite low, and most of the humour is ho-hum at best. Making matters worse, the set design is just too slick, giving the film an inappropriate polished and theatrical shine, while the central performances of Keaton, Boyle, Henner, and Piscopo stop just short of winking at the audience and shouting to the rafters.

The better moments come from secondary sources. Gang boss Moronie is an expert at mangling the English language and draws the best laughs with some classic sputtered lines, while Burr's quietly frantic and ultimately fruitless attempts at controlling Tommy make best use of DeVito's talents. And when Johnny calls on the services of a priest on the way to a possible date with the electric chair, the priest's supposedly Latin ramblings are simply priceless.

Roman Moroni, testifying at a congressional-style hearing: I would like to direct this to the distinguished members of the panel: You lousy cork-soakers. You have violated my farging rights. Dis somanumbatching country was founded so that the liberties of common patriotic citizens like me could not be taken away by a bunch of fargin iceholes... like yourselves.

The rest of the film is conspicuously forgettable, and features too many obvious repetitions of jokes that run out of steam early but are anyway mercilessly re-deployed. Despite a smattering of good intentions, Johnny is neither on the spot nor in the least bit dangerous.

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Movie Review: Taxi Driver (1976)

A descent-into-hell psychological drama, Taxi Driver slowly drives along the path towards emotional carnage. It's a hypnotic journey, where one veteran's disgust with modern society methodically spirals downwards into an uncontrollable need to violently lash out.

Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) is a former Marine now living alone in New York City. Unable to sleep, he takes a job driving a taxi on the night shift. Unlike other drivers, Bickle accepts fares to the most dangerous corners of a decaying, crime-infested New York. Already disgusted with the scum that crawls on the sidewalks, his nightly exposure to the pimps, prostitutes, drug dealers and gangs intensifies his sense of social isolation. His only acquaintances are other taxi drivers, including the larger-than-life "Wizard" (Peter Boyle).

As he drives around the city, Bickle spots Betsy (Cybill Shepherd), a beautiful political aide working on the presidential campaign of Senator Palantine, and fending off the unsophisticated advances of fellow worker Tom (Albert Brooks). Bickle's attempts to get to know Betsy are promising at first, but the relationship collapses on a movie date when he takes her to the wrong type of theatre. Bickle also builds an unlikely interest in Iris (Jodie Foster), a very young prostitute who goes by the street name "Easy" and is fully controlled by her pimp "Sport" (Harvey Keitel). Bickle buys several illegal guns and spends time on target practice. His emotional isolation turns to quiet rage, and his painfully twisted brain conjures up plenty of possible targets.

Today it is called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but screenwriter Paul Schrader wrote Taxi Driver before the label existed, and there has rarely been a more powerful screen examination of a mind spinning away, ever so slightly and imperceptibly to others, from its normal orbit towards the darkest of dead-ends.

Travis Bickle never stops functioning in society, does not reveal himself as blatantly mad or potentially violent towards others, keeps on working and almost normally interacting with others. Meanwhile he gathers a lethal arsenal and convinces himself that people need to die, to serve some purpose that only his damaged brain can fathom. It's his relative social normalcy prior to his emotional disintegration that is the disturbing core of his story.

Director Martin Scorsese and cinematographer Michael Chapman bathe New York with the sickly light of all-pervasive neon cutting through the night, with Bickle's yellow taxi adding to the garish surroundings and propagating the artificial glow. The daytime scenes, primarily portraying Betsy's world, are mostly filmed in bright sunlight, the New York of normal people oblivious to the infestations that take hold at night. Bickle's small and lonely apartment is a depressing place, the ramshackle furniture and claustrophobic walls doing nothing to improve his mood.

Ironically for a role in which he portrays a driver, Robert De Niro delivers the performance of a passive passenger unable to change the destructive course that his brain is on. Never outwardly animated, most of what Bickle is suffering occurs behind De Niro's eyes, with the building lunacy only beginning to ooze out when he is alone, most notably in the quietly disconcerting "You talkin' to me?" sequence in front of his mirror.

The other inhabitants of Bickle's world are quite distant, with Betsy and Iris existing in opposite corners of his universe. Betsy is completely out of Travis' league, the only surprise being how long it takes her to realize that the thrill of hanging out with a mildly charming taxi driver has an extremely limited shelf life. Shepherd gives Betsy a bored urban career girl vibe, a wickedly attractive woman who can have any man she likes and is therefore impulsively attracted to the unknown represented by an infatuated loner.

Iris has no idea that she is already at the bottom of life's barrel, Foster filled with wide-eyed innocence, and the film reaches a mortifying highlight when she slowly dances with Keitel's pimp, fully believing that he is her protector and that their relationship represents love.

Bernard Herrman's melancholy jazz score seeps loneliness from every pore, providing a mesmerizing, even encouraging, companion in the exploration of gloomy physical and emotional places best left alone. It was Herrman's final movie soundtrack, and Scorsese dedicated the film to the composer.

Taxi Driver responds to the call, picks up on time, and triumphantly drives to a cinematically resplendent destination.

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Movie Review: Young Frankenstein (1974)

A comic parody of 1930s monster movies, Young Frankenstein combines biting satire with quality production values to deliver a constant stream of laughs. Director Mel Brooks and a perfect cast find the right balance between winking at the screen and losing themselves in faux theatrical melodrama to great comic effect.

Dr. Frederick Frankenstein (Gene Wilder) is a professor of medicine in the United States, and eager to distance himself from the legacy of his grandfather, the infamous mad grave robber and re-animator of dead bodies. Frederick is engaged to Elizabeth (Madeline Kahn), but she won't as much as let him kiss her, lest her lipstick be smudged. When he receives word that he has inherited the long-abandoned family estate in Europe, Frederick travels to Transylvania, where he re-opens the family's spooky mansion on the hill.

Three assistants are ready to help him fulfil the family destiny: Inga (Teri Garr) seems to have no specific skills but plenty of curves; Igor (Marty Feldman) is a willing hunchback with beady eyes; and housekeeper Frau Blucher (Cloris Leachman) mainly looks stern and terrifies the horses, but still harbours a crush on Frederick's long-dead grandfather. Warming up to the task, Frederick steals the body of an imposing criminal and reanimates him into a Monster (Peter Boyle), but Igor's botched brain robbery means that although the Monster is none too bright, he is sensitive and capable of exhibiting human emotions in response to sad music. When the lumbering Monster predictably breaks loose and terrifies the local community, Frederick has to find a way to control the damage, safeguard his legacy, and save the Monster's life.

Mel Brooks takes aim at the monster movie brand with his sharp style of wit, and hits the target dead centre. Plundering the fertile ground of creepy eastern European towns, grave digging, experimentation in reanimation, and unnecessarily thick accents, Young Frankenstein never misses a beat in resurrecting the legendary films of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi.

Despite all the farcical comedy and within its efficient 105 minutes of running time, Young Frankenstein still finds the time to raise a few interesting themes. Frederick's control over his destiny is a running thread through the movie. Initially firm that he wants nothing to do with the family history (to the point of insisting that his name is pronounced Frankensteen), Frederick is gradually and irresistibly drawn to the vision and mission of his ancestors. Society's treatment of those who are a bit different is another motif born with the Monster, with the innocent child showing no fear and the blindman displaying nothing but hospitality, while all the other townsfolk default to the torches-and-pitchforks stance.

Gene Wilder co-wrote the screenplay with Brooks, and plays Frederick with the smooth confidence of an actor finding the perfect groove. Marty Feldman's hunchback with the ever shifting hump is simply a riot, and is deservedly the most memorable character from the movie. But Peter Boyle delivers the best performance, a hideous Monster who talks only in loud grunts and yet has to display a range of emotions. Boyle's eyes and gestures are outstanding, and soon the Monster becomes a full-fledged person deserving of pity and coddling.

Gene Hackman has fun with a small but hilarious role as the lonely blindman attempting to kindly serve the Monster food and drink. In comparison, Kenneth Mars' performance as Inspector Kemp with one mechanical hand has not stood the test of time as well as the rest of the film.

A large part of Young Frankenstein's enduring success resides in the film's visuals, Brooks and cinematographer Gerald Hirschfeld recreating in spooky black and white the prototypical mansion on the steep mountaintop surrounded by incessant lightning; the secret laboratory filled with meaningless yet noisy and sparking switches, dials and levers; and the village of simpletons living in perpetual fog and fear of the experiments carried out by generations of Frankensteins.

A comedy masterpiece, Young Frankenstein is monstrously fun.

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