Hooper.

Review #2011: Hooper.

Cast: 

Burt Reynolds (Sonny Hooper), Sally Field (Gwen Doyle), Jan-Michael Vincent (Delmore "Ski" Shidski), Brian Keith (Jocko Doyle), Robert Klein (Roger Deal), John Marley (Max Berns), James Best (Cully), Alfie Wise (Tony), Adam West (himself), and Terry Bradshaw (Brawler) Directed by Hal Needham (#033 - Smokey and the Bandit, #034 - The Cannonball Run, and #945 - Smokey and the Bandit II)

Review: 

The stuntman does not get enough respect, if you think about it. They work hard in a profession where the danger can be apparent for any type of stunt, especially in the old days (Shark (1969) saw a stuntman get attacked and killed by a great white shark and then the producers put the footage in the film and change the title to reflect that...and that film had Reynolds as star). Yakima Canutt was the first stuntman to win an Academy Award, you know, being awarded an honorary one in 1967; it was he who performed the famous drop stunt in Stagecoach (1939). Of course, I mention this because of the fact that I am talking about a movie made by a former stuntman in Hal Needham with a star in Reynolds that was known for doing his own stunts. It was the second film in the career of Needham, who I'm sure we all know and well from Smokey and the Bandit, released one year prior to this film in 1977. The original basis for the film was set in 1975 with Lamont Johnson (best known for TV productions more than his films, which included The Last American Hero (1973)) slated to direct it for Warner Bros., but delays related to the dispute over the original title (The Stuntman) eventually led to Needham becoming involved (incidentally, that film that caused the name dispute, named The Stunt Man, was released in 1980). The screenplay was done by Thomas Rickman and Bill Kerby, while the story was done by Walt Green and Walter S. Herndon. This was the second film with Needham and Reynolds, who were such good friends with each other that it served as one of the inspirations for the dynamic in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019). After the film, Needham would direct seven further feature films (with a handful of TV productions, but we are only talking about his run that ended with Rad in 1986), four of which had Reynolds as a star, albeit with mixed returns.

The following organizations are listed in the credits: the Stuntmen’s Association of Motion Pictures, Inc., Black Stuntmen’s Association of Hollywood, Stuntwomen’s Association, Society of Professional Stuntwomen and Stunts Unlimited. It is definitely a movie made by someone that wants to show perspective in the stuntman in all of the strange ways possible: fun, if not painful when handled incorrectly. At his best, Reynolds had the charisma to make whatever he said come off with wonderful timing, and for the most part, it is true here in a film that is probably more charming than funny, a good ole' boy movie that one is already familiar with if they like stuff such as W.W. and the Dixie Dancekings (1975) or Smokey and the Bandit. But beneath the humor is a movie that has one thing stick out among the stunts: everything is but a fleeting moment, and it always helps to take care of oneself when something of us (whether that involves a profession of risk-taking or say, being a teacher) reaches its end. So yes, it is a movie that hones what Needham seems to like most in filmmaking when it comes to staging crashes in quality spectacle while having the backdrop of moviemaking drama that would be right at home with something like, say, Souls for Sale (1923). Reynolds is self-deprecating and self-aware enough to make charm count double more than if it was a random actor told to play the role to generic macho levels. Inside the freewheeling spirit of a man who cracks jokes with a younger presence meant to take the place of guys like him is someone who has to grasp with just what he is going to do at the moment where everything he cares about goes in a flash being more than just "away in the distance". So yes, beyond the timely instances of people playing games on the highway and having goofball barfights to go with rocket cars is a movie that has the semblance of caring about the stunt person with some sort of heart on its sleeve. Reynolds, who would know more than anyone about having to learn for years what it really meant to be an presence in demand, handles things in the purest sense of charm, is what I am saying. Sure, the dynamic between him and Field is probably not as involving as their last pair-up in a film (the aforementioned Bandit), but they are still ideal in the winning sense of looking like people you would believe could share a room together without straining for words. Vincent is not so much a hotshot newcomer as an inevitability, one who seems totally fine with the idea of seeking the thrill of stunt performance to make himself a name in a town that will use him as they please until the end (if you think about it, Reynolds trying to make his mark with Vincent as basically living the last part of his dream through him seems familiar to those who like to live their fantasy through an actor they see in film). Evidently, the character Klein plays is based on Peter Bogdanovich, who directed Reynolds in At Long Last Love (1975) and Nickelodeon (1976), and Needham worked on the latter film as a stunt double for Reynolds. There is a story that Needham told once about a planned stunt where he would fall through a tree and Bogdanovich asked if he could go any higher, with Needham responding with "I can go as high as you like. You just have to keep adding zeroes to the number on that cheque." Needless to say, it is evident where Klein is coming from as the heel, and he does fine with it. Keith and his old rascal persona makes for engaging support when it comes to seeing how age treats the old hellraisers, while Best (a regular presence in television and film for a handful of decades) provides an amiable dynamic in parts with Reynolds. The film labors itself to relative familiarity by the time you are at the end of its 99 minute runtime, but there are plenty of familiar films that turn out pretty good because of the showmanship displayed in making it seem fitting to watch without waving away what you could see coming (in other words, a punch in the face is only as fun as how much it seems earned to watch play out). If the aforementioned Bandit film was like a deep-fried entree, Hooper is basically dessert, one that has a suitable conviction of showmanship to go with a few charming moments for classic Reynolds fun, which means one's enjoyment of it will basically ride on how much they roll with the stunts that Needham and company wish to pull off.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Faces.

Review #1428: Faces.

Cast: 
John Marley (Richard Forst), Gena Rowlands (Jeannie Rapp), Lynn Carlin (Maria Forst), Seymour Cassel (Chet), Fred Draper (Freddie Draper), Val Avery (Jim McCarthy), Dorothy Gulliver (Florence), Joanne Moore Jordan (Louise Draper), Darlene Conley (Billy Mae) Written and Directed by John Cassavetes.

Review:
"My films are expressive of a culture that has had the possibility of attaining material fulfillment while at the same time finding itself unable to accomplish the simple business of conducting human lives. We have been sold a bill of goods as a substitute for life. What is needed is reassurance in human emotions; a re-evaluation of our emotional capacities.”

We all know important independence can be in life. It can also be important when it comes to film as well, which proves to be the case with actor and director-writer John Cassavetes, a pioneer of independent cinema. The son of Greek immigrants, he had graduated from the Academy of Dramatic Arts (New York) in 1950 and soon began acting in theater with small bits in film and television following not long after, with works such as The Night Holds Terror (1955) and Edge of the City (1957). He was a proponent of an alternative to method acting through his own workshop that he did in New York City. It was during an appearance on the radio show Night People (hosted by Jean Shepherd) to promote the latter film that he pondered over if someone could make a film about ordinary people (without all the Hollywood business interference). Funds from listeners of the show (which apparently totaled to over $2,000) along with raiding funds from family and friends led him to have a chance to make what he wanted. Over time, he would use funds garnered from acting gigs (with notable performances in films such as The Dirty Dozen (1967) and Rosemary's Baby (1968)) to help fund his films, not wanting to compromise his vision from producers who might have wanted to shift a project to something more "commercial" (although he did do a few films with involvement or distribution with studios, such as the two films before Faces in Two Late Blues and A Child is Waiting). He cultivated his films from his experiences with an fiercely independent streak who once stated that the only person less important than the director on a film set was a talent agent, since he felt a director should create their own material for their films. He was characterized for allowing a manner of improvisation for his actors through their delivery and interpretation of their character, which would shape the story (as opposed to the other way around). Ultimately, he would direct twelve films in a span of 27 years from Shadows (shot in 1957, previewed the following year and then reworked for release in 1959) to Big Trouble (1986, which he disowned) before his death in 1989 at the age of 59. One of his scripts would eventually be adapted into a film after his death with She's So Delovely (1997), directed by his son Nick (the first of Cassavetes' three children to turn to directing).

For this film (his fourth), he spent over six months with filming (most notably filming in the house of his mother-in-law alongside his own) and then three years to edit. The film runs at 130 minutes, but it had existed in numerous forms prior to general release, including an initial cut of six that reduced to four before a preview screening of a three hour version, and a 147 minute version was deposited for preservation at the Library of Congress.  One thing that is for certain is that the film is an interesting look upon communication and how few we really talk to each other. What one thought about communication when it comes to how passive and desperate we are to connect with our loved ones back in 1968 still resonates with how we are now, with Cassavetes managing to make an honest film that sets its own path of casual venom in examining communication with rawness. It can be an uncomfortable sit at times, lingering with conversations on their own terms that can test the patience at times but ultimately work itself out to discussion and curiosity worth having. Marley and Rowlands lead this ensemble (with five of the main six having starred in at least one Cassavetes film before this one) to curious heights, leading one's curiosity with a bit of sadness to it all, whether that means a working man trying to escape his empty love-life in a capable Marley (a character actor with plenty of film/TV credits) or a wiry and knowing performance from Rowlands (an actress of over six decades in film, stage, and television known for collaborations in her husband Cassavetes' films) that serves to drive the film's look at desperation to feel something with someone. Carlin, the secretary-turned-actress makes for a fair debut that captures a hollowed-out person of marriage with subtlety. Cassel shines in carefreeness that pulls you in when he shows himself to try and warm up the presence of desperation without becoming a caricature to laugh at. In the end, this is a bleak movie, but it is one that has a place for doing so on its own terms for its story and for its actors that shows the reflection on the mirror of the 1960s without flinching or making an easy out. It might not be for everybody, but it certainly has a place in inspiring curiosity for those who want something a bit different from the usual fare.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.