The Adventures of Ford Fairlane.

Review #2163: The Adventures of Ford Fairlane.

Cast: 

Andrew Dice Clay (Ford Fairlane), Wayne Newton (Julian Grendel), Priscilla Presley (Colleen Sutton), Lauren Holly (Jazz), Brandon Call (The Kid), Maddie Corman (Zuzu Petals), David Patrick Kelly (Sam the Sleaze Bag), Morris Day (Don Cleveland), Robert Englund (Smiley), Ed O'Neill (Lt. Amos), Gilbert Gottfried (Johnny Crunch), and Vince Neil (Bobby Black) Directed by Renny Harlin (#016 - Die Hard 2, #670 - Cliffhanger, #745 - A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master)

Review: 

"I just really commit to what I do as a performer. It's not about being misunderstood, I think my career took off at a time when the world was changing a lot. Women were really fighting for their rights, gays were coming out of the closet, so I was like a lightning rod for every group looking for publicity. And that's what really caused a lot of craziness in my life." - Andrew Dice Clay

Oh hell, I knew this was coming. When it comes to hearing about films with dubious reputations, one of the films that popped up every so often was this one, and perhaps for good reason. This was the first and perhaps only starring role for the one and only Andrew Dice Clay. Clay (who used his middle name for his stage name as opposed to "Silverstein") was born in Brooklyn and found a talent in entertaining from a young age.  He was actually a drummer when it came to entertaining as a teen before deciding to become a comedian, which saw him cite people such as Elvis Presley and Sylvester Stallone as influences. He went from impressions to a moniker known as, well, the "Diceman". This persona was known for his brash and raunchy sense of self (such as say, a performance at Rodney Dangerfield's club) that garnered attention and controversy. Raunchy nursery rhymes got him banned from MTV, for example. He did a handful of films and television during this time, most notably with supporting roles in Casual Sex? (1988) and Crime Story. Eventually he got his own HBO special, and it led to his own film here, which came in the wake of selling out Madison Square Garden in back-to-back nights. The film was based on characters as created by Rex Weiner, who had written a handful of stories published in serial form for New York Rocker and the LA Weekly. David Arnott, James Cappe, and Daniel Waters (remember Heathers? Or Hudson Hawk, which I should get back to someday...?) helped to write the film (evidently an early script exists here). Amidst all the fanfare and whatever you want to call controversy, the film was not a major hit with audiences. One year later, the concert film Dice Lives was released to little fanfare that comes from a NC-17 rating and a decision by Fox to not distribute the film because of their attempts to try and position Clay away from that aforementioned Diceman persona. He may never have become a big film presence, but Clay still plugs away at the comedy routine (older stuff had, well, nursery rhymes) with occasional appearances in film (A Star is Born (2018), for example). This film was directed by Renny Harlin, who was pretty busy as a director, because this film came out exactly one week after the release of his other effort for Fox in Die Hard 2, which apparently happened because Fox pushed the release date back (according to Waters, it was supposed to come out in May of 1990, as opposed to July, "to build Dice awareness…big mistake!" There probably is even more for one to discover about the film as a curiosity in the audio sense).

Do you yearn to know what lies beneath a film that name drops Art Mooney for a plot point to go with Clay narrating every now and then straight out of a silly noir and a koala puppet for some reason?  There is something there in this strange hodgepodge of a performance from Clay. Sure, the chunk of that is filled with obscenities, but I think it actually works out in his favor with such a loopy film that favors every tawdry cliche in the book. It is kind of amusing to watch this goof play around with clubs and chicks like they were clothes off the rack with a "playing hard to want" confidence. Outdated? Maybe, but it is that kind of outdatedness that seems strangely in-date when it comes to loud blowhards and even louder sense of self that reminds one of Elvis in the weirdest of ways (is it a coincidence that there is a Presley cast in the film?). His crudeness and reaction to some of his own one-liners amuse me in that weird way, what can I say? If anything, it should be even more over-the-top just to bash it over your head. Listening to a selection of material of Clay makes me realize that, well, some people really do just not know what "schtick" is (sure, there are things offensive to not let stick in conversation or in society, so good luck enforcing that beyond "mean words"). Shocking folks can't stay fresh forever, but good ol' ridiculous ideas in trying to make certain folks work as stars can never die out, you might say. Holly plays the "under-looked assistant presence" that you've seen in a few detective-schlock, but she is game for the whole thing in patience (to a point), so that works out. Same with Corman in goofball antics. You know, I'm actually not surprised to see Newton as the main threat, because he was actually pretty conniving in License to Kill (1989). There is some sort of hokum with the ranging plot about "the industry", but it is serviceable as a counter to Clay in the idea of silly dumb noirs, particularly since he basically stumbles and fumbles around more than anything. Gottfried is actually under-utilized here, which is amusing in context because Howard Stern was considered for this small role, and I can say that Gottfried's ribbing of Clay is desperately needed more in the film, particularly since his final scene is him acting out getting electrocuted. I think any film that gives O'Neill and Englund time to be silly (one gets to sing terribly and the other gets to be goofily creepy) is at least worth spending a few brain cells with - I play favorites, what can I say? As a whole, the movie isn't exactly the kind of thing you can hang as the great underrated classic or something that needed a boatload of sequels, but I would at least say the quality was better than one would have you to believe, particularly for those with the patience to sit through a grab-bag of corny lines and cliches. It is a vanity project that is a lightning rod for people who didn't like who Clay was as a comedian or found something odd in the idea of trying to make him a presence in films. Three decades later, in a climate filled with even more attempts at vanity projects and varying levels of schtick from comedians (real or imagined), I would say this is at the very least a decent one to check out. Maybe not "cult classic", but "fine" works out just the same.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Any Given Sunday.

Review #1523: Any Given Sunday.

Cast: 
Al Pacino (Tony D'Amato), Cameron Diaz (Christina Pagniacci), Dennis Quaid (Jack 'Cap' Rooney), James Woods (Dr. Harvey Mandrake), Jamie Foxx (Willie Beamen), LL Cool J (Julian Washington), Matthew Modine (Dr. Ollie Powers), Jim Brown (Montezuma Monroe), Lawrence Taylor (Luther 'Shark' Lavay), Bill Bellamy (Jimmy Sanderson), Andrew Bryniarski (Patrick 'Madman' Kelly), Lela Rochon (Vanessa Struthers), Lauren Holly (Cindy Rooney), Ann-Margret (Margaret Pagniacci), Aaron Eckhart (Nick Crozier) Directed by Oliver Stone (#095 - Wall Street, #1090 - Platoon, and #1265 - Natural Born Killers)

Review: 
"I love intelligent films that come at you fast. I don't have attention deficit disorder, my mind moves fast. There's a lot to deal with in my films. We had so many facts to go through, so the governing style was flash, cut, flash, repeat."

One needs to see a bit of distinct vision every now and then from a director, and Oliver Stone closed out his 20th century with another distinct focus in football. He had been a student at Yale University before doing service in Vietnam first through teaching students English in Saigon to wiping Merchant Marine ships to dropping out of Yale and enlisting in the United States Army. He went into New York University after that and graduated with a film degree in 1971. He made his first film as a director with the cheapie Seizure (1974) before getting the chance to write Midnight Express (1978), which resulted in an Academy Award for his script despite inaccuracies of the depiction of the real-life prison story. The Hand (1981) followed for Stone as a director, but the five years between this and his next was crucial, since he wrote Conan the Barbarian (1982) and Scarface (1983) in that time. He rocketed to further prominence with Platoon (1986) that kept him busy over the prevailing years, with this being his 15th as director/writer. He has touched subjects such as war with Salvador (1986), biopics with The Doors (1991), to crime with Natural Born Killers (1994), all seeming distinct in their provocative nature by Stone.

I wonder if Stone wanted to make the ultimate football film. What we have here is truly a hodgepodge of clichés and assumptions you can have in a sports film, right from an upstart rookie becoming a star and then needing to not become consumed in arrogance, a wearied wise coach (perhaps like Tom Landry?), action montages, and even having actual athletes as stars (of which there are several notable ones of the past like Lawrence Taylor or Johnny Unitas). Stone had first expressed an interest in a football project with an early 1980s script about an old linebacker he wrote in mind for Charles Bronson. Years later, he met journalist Richard Weiner. He had developed a script with former player Jamie Williams about a black quarterback. This would be combined with scripts done by John Logan and Daniel Pyne alongside inspiration from You're Okay, It's Just a Bruise by Robert Huzienga Jr (former team physician of the Los Angeles Raiders detailing player injuries); Stone and Logan would get screenplay credit while Pyne and Logan got story and Weiner and Williams were consultants. This frenzy also applies to editing, since there are four listed as part of the film. Stone clearly was under the mindset that football was somehow like war, particularly with how it marched on as a team together as opposed to individual only, while also seeing the other sides of football life (like the pain and egos). On a basic level, I would say that this is a decent movie, wrapped with making an involving film packing an ensemble worthy of carrying most of its weight that Stone wants to put on them on and off the field that can be fairly entertaining. Of course it also is considerably lengthy at 162 minutes (157 for the director's cut, in which twelve minutes were cut for pacing while adding six minutes of other scenes) with a self-importance like no other in its presentation of football players as the modern gladiator (complete with a brief flash of Ben-Hur to drive home the point) with all of the excesses that come from Stone's view on the matter. It is firmly a film of the 1990s in all the right and weird ways, one that I chuck a smile at when it stops doing flashes of editing and focuses on just the basics.

Pacino does quite well with the material required in garnering a leader one could rally around in all of the moods required, whether that involves weary loneliness or stubborn dominance that seems fairly convincing in rally curiosity. Diaz matches him in cleverness that never seems like a doorstep to forget about, a figure of new-school arrogance that does seem quite amusing. Quaid does fine with a man on his last leg of fame (and perhaps health) - respectable without being drowned in pity. Woods doesn't have too much to really do, but he is quite a conniving figure behind the lines that has one really good scene to munch on involving him being caught in a lie about the health of the players. Foxx (picked after Sean Combs lost the role apparently because he couldn't throw a football) captures the bravado of a rising star and all that comes with it in good detail, whether that involves brimming confidence or sparring words with anyone. Others such as Cool J and Taylor make the best of their time on screen in charm and coarse acting that resonate the siding of the football action in its business and excess. It can't quite keep every thread going without being a bit lost, but at least its numerous showing of games do look fairly convincing (hits and all) within a fictionalized football league (in the year 2001 no less). It still has a punch when it comes to the TV-infected sensationalism and other various topics, and it definitely seems willing enough to want to inspire a thought without bashing your head with it. On the whole, it lumbers to points about football gladiators and its exploitation a bit too much, but it does work itself enough to win out in the end.

Next Time: We venture into the 21st century.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.