The Stunt Man.

Review #2499: The Stunt Man.

Cast: 

Peter O'Toole (Eli Cross), Steve Railsback (Cameron), Barbara Hershey (Nina Franklin), Allen Goorwitz (Sam), Alex Rocco (Jake), Sharon Farrell (Denise), Adam Roarke (Raymond Bailey), Philip Bruns (Ace), Charles Bail (Chuck Barton), and John Garwood (Gabe) Directed by Richard Rush.

Review: 

"The idea of a fugitive hiding his identity by posing as a stuntman and falling under the dominance of a director seemed like a marvelous way to examine our universal panic and paranoia over controlling our own destinies. And it offered a chance to do it inside the structure of a big screen big action picture, which would be entertaining at the same time.”

It does help to look outside the box with someone who directed a total of twelve films. Richard Rush liked films from a young age, once stating in an interview that he saw Mildred Pierce (1945) fifteen times while working as a theater usher. He attended the UCLA Film School and stated with clear honesty that the Theater Department was wonderful while not learning anything about film, with his real education coming with making propaganda (his word) TV programs about the Korean War. He had a production company to produce commercials and industrial films before selling it so he could make what became his first film: Too Soon to Love (1960), which he ended up selling to Universal Pictures for $250,000 (of note is one of Rush's co-writers was a young Francis Ford Coppola) that was described once as "the first American New Wave film". Other highlights include some work for AIP such as The Savage Seven, studio work for Columbia with Getting Straight (1970), a "love it or hate it" film that served as an early example of the buddy cop movie with Freebie and the Bean (1974). Rush could not get as much work after The Stunt Man: he was paid to walk away from Air America [1990] and the production of Color of Night [1994] had a publicized disagreement about the best cut that gave him a heart attack, although Rush's version on DVD apparently was better than the theatrical version. At any rate, save for a DVD documentary about the making of The Stunt Man, Rush mostly retreated to his Bel Air residence for the rest of his life*; he died in 2021 at the age of 92.

In 1970, Paul Brodeur's novel The Stunt Man was published. Almost immediately, there were ideas of making a film adaptation, which actually started with Brodeur's Harvard classmate Frederick Wiseman. Francois Truffaut and Arthur Penn apparently were considered for the film but instead ended up doing films that have been said to have story elements from the book (with Day for Night [1973] and Night Moves [1975], respectively). At any rate, with the relative hit of Getting Straight (1970), Rush came into the picture in 1971 that originally was to have William Castle as producer. Columbia Pictures had the film rights and Rush wrote a treatment that apparently was described as one the executives were too confused about what genre it was (asking if it was a comedy, drama, social satire, or action adventure and getting "yes, all" as an answer does tend to make things a bit weird). Having decided to buy the film rights from the studio to work on a screenplay with Lawrence B. Marcus, Rush tried to shop for a studio to fund it to no avail (it did not help when the movie that ended up being called Hooper [1978]* was originally in development as "The Stuntman"). Eventually, the funding for the film came by way of Melvin Simon*, who actually was a prominent real estate investor before he tried his hand at producing in what he later called a "big mistake" (likely the most noted film with financing from Simon was Porky's [1982]) and was distributed by 20th Century Fox to little release.

I really wanted to like this movie. It is fascinating, sure, because this is a film that Peter O'Toole said was not so much released but "escaped". But I can't help but feel like most of the movie is a smoke and mirrors show to hide what is basically a shaggy dog story more than some sort of mixture of adventure-comedy-drama. Oh but certain stuff in the movie is just part of a movie- that only works if you are absorbed into the idea that the film is actually going to fool you, and, well, I didn't. It's not nearly as fun as, say, Hooper, and it is not nearly as compelling to answer the question of "is that it?" beyond presenting a mish-mash between Railsback and O'Toole-well okay there is Hershey, but eventually one starts to roll their eyes at the perceived free spirit (the first time you see her is in makeup trying to look like an old woman, which might actually be a bit funny in the punchline). Honestly, the most interesting part of the film is the exchange between Railsback and Bail (actual stuntman playing himself) in the art of the stunt, since it actually goes into something meaningful: selling the stunt with natural dialogue that is amusing in what it says about people with the stones to go through with a jump. Of course, O'Toole is basically doing an imitation of Rush (complete with clothes given by Rush to O'Toole) that has an amusing ego within wily maneuverings that extends to doing scenes on a crane. By the time the movie maneuvers through 131 minutes of semi-interesting moments involving stunts and moments meant to make one understand the PTSD-haze* of the lead focus, you just wish the conceit was funnier. It is one of those movies you might encounter in the middle of the night and possibly find something really curious within its game of conceit in movieland that is sometimes entertaining and other times is somewhere in the middle.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

*Incidentally, Rush wanted to do a film about Barry Seal for many years, as evidenced here - MONEY INTO LIGHT: AN INTERVIEW WITH RICHARD RUSH (PART 4 OF 4)

*Call it a hot take, but I think I enjoyed Hooper more than I enjoyed The Stunt Man.

*You might recognize Simon because he and his younger brother Herb bought the Indiana Pacers in 1983 and Herb still owns the team.

*I imagine that if my father had lived long enough to talk to me as an adult, it would've been something to talk to him as an adult, given that he served in Vietnam.

Wired.

Review #2145: Wired.

Cast: 

Michael Chiklis (John Belushi), Ray Sharkey (Angel Velasquez), J. T. Walsh (Bob Woodward), Patti D'Arbanville (Cathy Smith), Lucinda Jenney (Judy Belushi), Alex Rocco (Arnie Fromson), Gary Groomes (Dan Aykroyd), Jere Burns (Lou Connors), and Clyde Kusatsu (Coroner) Directed by Larry Peerce.

Review: 

Why don't we get this out of the way early: the 1984 book that the film is based on is pretty much thought to be a load of crap. The story goes that Bob Woodward was approached to write a biography of John Belushi because he happened to be raised in Wheaton, Illinois, the same place that Belushi had been raised in. Several people were interviewed for the book such as Judith Belushi Pisano, Dan Aykroyd, and James Belushi, but the end result was thought by several friends and associates of Belushi to be exploitative, particularly since a handful of the anecdotes are presented with little to no context (for example, a moment of Belushi being nervous about doing a love scene that saw him stall by coming up with various funny names for a certain body part is written by Woodward as just being an "inappropriate prelude"). Fun fact: this is the only Woodward book that doesn't involve political figures in any shape or form. Pisano wrote her own book about her life with Belushi in 1990 called Samurai Widow and then co-wrote the biography Belushi: A Biography with Tanner Colby in 2005. Anyway, back to the garbage process of novel-to-film. Woodward wanted to sell the rights to the book for film as fast as 1984 but apparently ran into trouble because he claimed nobody in Hollywood wanted to do it because it had "too much truth in it." Years later, Edward S. Feldman and Charles R. Meeker bought the rights for roughly $300,000 before putting money into funding the project to go with a New Zealand conglomerate named Lion Nathan. Woodward served as a technical advisor behind the scenes while Earl Mac Rauch wrote the screenplay in his fourth and final screenplay, with the most noted one probably being his adaptation of his 1984 novel Buckaroo Banzai. The film was directed by Larry Peerce, who directed a handful of television and features, whether that was Goodbye, Columbus (1969) or a handful of historical works such as Elvis and Me (1988, TV) or A Woman Named Jackie (1991, TV). This is currently the last feature film directed by Peerce.

The film has never been released on DVD or Blu-ray, and the only way one could see the film on home media was a videocassette was released by International Video Entertainment. Whether you could consider me lucky or demented, I did find a bootleg copy on the Internet to view this film that looks, well, let's just say that when Plan 9 from Outer Space has been given more attention for detailing, you really made a bad movie. For a film that was made for $13 million, the box office returns in its release (which took a year from finishing production due to lack of interest from distributors, which may have been influenced by a certain agent in the Creative Artists Agency) was monumentally terrible and incredibly predictable. I suppose Dan Aykroyd really did put a curse on the film. For 112 minutes, you get a film that is incredibly terrible in all the ways that matter most, because it honestly feels like someone thought they were being really clever in trying to make a "surreal" sort of biopic without understanding anything that made the subject matter interesting to begin with. Never does one hear about Belushi's work for The National Lampoon Radio Hour. Never does one really see how Belushi met Aykroyd (the film just shows them together just like that). Never does one really get a feel that Belushi had that many friends to begin with (Robin Williams and Robert De Niro, just to drop a few). Chiklis apparently went through dozens of auditions before being cast, and he really thought this would be a big thing for him. Instead, he had to deal with questions of "am I going to not find work after this?" The fact that he actually went to Jim Belushi years later to apologize speaks volumes about just where all things rest when it comes to regrets and ideas. At least Chiklis managed to eventually carve a career out of the ashes, which included lead roles in TV such as The Commish and The Shield (the former saw him play a character ten years older than he really was).  It's easy to say he has the best performance of the film, but it really isn't that good to begin with. It has that strange cadence that seems a bit too puffed in scenes that should have emotional weight and also seems a bit too out-of-depth when it comes to the "sketch recreations". But when you are paired with such vaunted efforts like a guardian angel character played by Sharkey (best known for TV's Wiseguy), the bar is low because no one pulls in a useful performance. I can't fathom going with a guardian angel angle for a biopic that was made by someone who probably thought a mugging was needed for It's a Wonderful Life. Sharkey has no range to do anything with this role beyond the obvious. Walsh meanders through the film asking questions that make a curious experiment to see someone play the author of the book that is being adapted when one knows the book reeks of slime. I can't tell who comes off worse, Walsh or Bernstein (the irony is that because he was in this film, Aykroyd got Walsh fired from Loose Cannons (1990), a movie with its own odious reputation). The movie is flat in every way even when it comes to its attempts at an anti-drug angle, and this is a movie that features Belushi rise from the morgue table to go along with another scene of people trying to fit the casket into a plane and failing. This is cinematic excrement, one that fails at telling a story of its subject in any sort of coherent matter. The tragedy of John Belushi is that he was covered for a book and film that didn't treat him or the people around him with any sort of respect, and time has only made the film and novel relegated into the obscure-bin where it belongs.

Overall, I give it 1 out of 10 stars.

Next: Breen awaits.

The Friends of Eddie Coyle.

Review #2063: The Friends of Eddie Coyle.

Cast: 

Robert Mitchum (Eddie Coyle), Peter Boyle (Dillon), Richard Jordan (Dave Foley), Steven Keats (Jackie Brown), Alex Rocco (Jimmy Scalise), Joe Santos (Artie Van), Mitchell Ryan (Waters), Helena Carroll (Sheila Coyle), Jack Kehoe (The Beard), Margaret Ladd (Andrea), and James Tolkan (The Man's Contact Man) Directed by Peter Yates (#506 - Bullitt, #927 - Krull, and #1197 - The Deep)

Review: 

In 1970, George V. Higgins saw his first novel in The Friends of Eddie Coyle become published. Formerly, he had served his native Commonwealth of Massachusetts as a deputy assistant attorney general alongside as an Assistant United State Attorney. Higgins dabbled as a novelist when not involved in private practice in law that distilled the words that he would hear from gangsters and made them the kind of thing you would hear in a great potboiler. Better writers than me can lend you some context within the scene of Boston and gangs (as presented here). It made some sense to have Peter Yates as director, as his third effort with Robbery (1967) had given him a chance to direct Bullitt (1968), a movie packed with a car chase so notable that I'm sure those who view it now will talk about with fanfare; Yates directed a variety of genres besides crime of course, but, well, we are here to talk about a film that was underappreciated by audiences in its time. This is the first of only two adaptations of a Higgins book, with the only other one being Killing Them Softly (2012). Paul Monash wrote the screenplay while serving as producer. Of the films that Yates made, he stated that the three films he was most proud of was Breaking Away (1979), The Dresser (1983), and this film.

When it comes to the grimy classics of a decade as ideal for grimy films as the 1970s were, you can't really go wrong with this one. Life is hard, but it sure is harder if you are stupid, as is reflected within the dialogue that is told with such dedicated efficiency. Before you get to films of the region such as The Town (2010) or The Departed (2006), you might want to consider this one when it comes to looking at the people that dwell in the corners of crime. This isn't merely just the big-timers or two-bit hustlers, it involves folks wrapped firmly in the middle, the kind that are referred to with irony as having friends. It rewards those who value character presences such as Boyle or Keats to serve in the lines behind the immeasurable Mitchum. One of the cast members actually was formerly involved in organized crime within the East in Rocco, who was linked loosely with the Winter Hill Gang in the Boston area that had seen him accused of being involved in an assault on a diner owner. Apparently, when Mitchum had asked to see a local gangster for research, Rocco tapped him to see Howie Winter, who was still part of the gang. Of course, Mitchum having an accent that has been looked upon favorably among select folks in the region is not a surprise given the veteran actor's immense talent that relies heavily on seeing this one man in the time he has remaining in such a weary existence that knows his strengths and weaknesses when it comes to the life put upon him. This includes moments spent with Carroll to remind oneself of just what is really at stake when it comes to playing information or not (it isn't a movie built on overt violence, basically). Only Mitchum could waltz right into a role like this with such natural skill that it seems that nobody could have done it better. He may be a hustler of guns, but he is our hustler and his dilemma matters more than anything to us, particularly since we know the game that comes in Boyle, who provides such a worthy mobster presence in subtlety on the level of a snake. Jordan is the leading authority (with pretty good results) to watch upon these distinct elements of crime that is thoroughly unglamourous. Violent or not, you know what kind of underworld you are in with this film in folks such as Keats and Rocco that obviously accomplish what is required in the shades of laying out plans in their own scope that can only go the way things go with the unending world of crime moving on with or without the best laid-out plans working right. The robbing aren't the most important part, because it is a slow boiler all about seeing what happens to Mitchum as a battle of pride, one that works out to effective drama with no sense of false note moral by its end. In that sense, it is a worthwhile crime film wrapped firmly in its Boston surroundings for a worthwhile time of grime. Bleak and unflinching, it stands worthy of its time rather than one that flinches away.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Motorpsycho.

Review #1872: Motorpsycho.

Cast: 

Haji (Ruby Bonner), Alex Rocco (Cory Maddox), Stephen Oliver (Brahmin), Holle K. Winters (Gail Maddox), Joseph Cellini (Dante), Thomas Scott (Slick), Coleman Francis (Harry Bonner), and Sharon Lee (Jessica Fannin) Directed by Russ Meyer (#1420 - Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!)

Review: 

If you remember, Russ Meyer first made movies when he was with the US Army's 166th Signal Photographic Company during World War II. His first couple of films would be "nudie cuties", which thrived on the circuit of independent and exploitation audiences, which he wrote, directed, edited, photographed, and distributed himself. He did this for a couple of years before shifting to less nude fare with Lorna in 1964 (incidentally, that movie was about a woman being assaulted that sees her break out of sexual frustration with her husband - Meyer described himself as looking at sex in a humorous and outrageous way). Mudhoney (1965) was a Great Depression period drama without as much exploitation (and not quite successful with audiences). But August 1965 saw the release of both Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! and this film, with the former being the one that eventually became a cult classic. Each have their fair share of violence and sex (i.e. women you or someone would probably say is attractive) with villainous trios, with one featuring a gang of go-go dancers and the other featuring a gang of bikers. Meyer served as co-writer on this film, as James Griffith, Hal Hopper, and W. E. Sprague did the script with him. Meyer also served as producer along with his wife Eve, served as cinematographer, and he edited the film with Charles G. Schelling.

There are a handful of odd moments but seeing a blurb promoting the use of Toyota vehicles at the end certainly was a surprise. Seeing a movie with a character depicted as being a veteran of the Vietnam War in 1965 was another surprise in a movie filled with lurid energy. It may not spring as many eye-raising moments as the aforementioned Pussycat movie (which he also wrote/produced/edited), but it never loses sight of what it means to see raw human energy put on screen to the point where could almost call it a satire of exploitation. Who else would make a movie where a guy gets stung by a snake and yells at his lady accomplice to suck the poison out? Meyer has an efficient eye to making movies with the right degree of sleaze that means one gets to see a bunch of grim violence to go with the early moments of attractions (as one says). Sure, there are probably people who will say that it is the women that really attracts people to his films, but who cares? I would rather have a director who has a clear interest in what they want to show on screen rather than a pretentious bore, and Meyer knows how to edit his material into 74 minutes of entertainment with bombast. As was the case with Pussycat, it is the women (in this case, one) that sticks out among the cast, as Haji (playing a Cajun whose trip with a scuzzy husband turns into death) makes for quite a tremendous presence, one who vexes the screen with dazzling energy. Rocco is fine in the general hero of vengeance type designed to fill time in one-note moments that doesn’t waste all of one’s time. The biker gang (three of them, which is the minimum to even have a gang) do okay, with Oliver becoming more interesting when the deranged elements come through (i.e. going from hip lingo to fantasizing about being back in the jungle), with the radio-in-ear Scott being a close second. Older film lovers may notice Coleman Francis in a scuzzy role, which is amusing to consider when this might be the best film he ever appeared in where he is on screen (for longer than a couple of seconds) or behind the camera. As a whole, one would best consider this a decent companion piece to Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, both having their own methods of going through the road of sleaze and violence that can be the difference between one being a cult classic and the other just being a decent little flick to find in the margins for those who like what they saw from the mind (and eyes) of Russ Meyer.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.