Posse (1993)

Review #2180: Posse.

Cast: 

Mario Van Peebles (Jesse Lee), Stephen Baldwin (Jimmy J. "Little J" Teeters), Billy Zane (Colonel Graham), Tone-Lōc (Angel), Melvin Van Peebles (Joe "Papa Joe"), Tom Lister Jr (Obobo), Big Daddy Kane ("Father Time"), Reginald VelJohnson (Preston), Blair Underwood (Sheriff Carver), Isaac Hayes (Cable), Charles Lane ("Weezie"), Robert Hooks (David "King David" Lee), Richard Jordan (Sheriff Bates), Pam Grier (Phoebe), Nipsey Russell (Snopes), Paul Bartel (Mayor Bigwood), Salli Richardson (Lana), and Woody Strode (The Storyteller) Directed by Mario Van Peebles (#1978 - New Jack City)

Review: 

Oh sure, "revisionist Western" isn't exactly the newest thing for the 1990s, but, hey, I dig action Westerns or ones with interesting ensembles, and I had this film in mind for last February, so screw it. This was the second film directed by Mario Van Peebles, following the resounding success of New Jack City (1991), and it perhaps makes sense to make a big spectacle Western film and have yourself as the star. Hell, if Eastwood or Poitier can do it...anyway, the film was written by rookie screenwriters Sy Richardson and Dario Scardapane. The film was a modest hit with audiences at the time, at least on a reported budget of $3 million. Strode, who had previously been featured in a variety of Westerns alongside documentaries such as Black Rodeo (1972), is featured for parts in the beginning and end, which also includes a clip from Once Upon a Time in the West (1968) to go with clips from older black cowboys such as The Bronze Buckaroo (1939). Of course, like Buck and the Preacher, it never hurts to have something to jog interest in actual historical things, such as with Buffalo Soldiers, the U.S. Army regiments consisting of African Americans that served on the frontier for the latter years of the 19th century and early 20th century. In 1997, Van Peebles wrote and starred in a made-for-TV/video film called Los Locos, which was directed by Jean-Marc Vallée (director of future films such as Dallas Buyers Club), which was billed in some places as "Posse Rides Again", even though it really isn't related to this film. Van Peebles has kept busy over the years in directing (sometimes in television), whether that involves television or his latest film, which appropriately or not, is titled Outlaw Posse (2024).

It is a frantic film that seems like a tribute to the energetic Spaghetti Westerns along with blaxploitation features, which means one has a film that sometimes looks like it is going to collapse under its overwhelming nature. Is it overproduced and underdeveloped in characters? Maybe, but if you throw a bunch of likeable folks and a few cute moments together, then why not? What, one has to say they are a serious Western in order to be thought of as such? Fun indulgence when it comes to spinning a "town defense" story generally wins most of the time. This is a film with dueling narratives of "revenge and perseverance" that flashes off for start and end of 111 minutes with a bit of flabbiness in the middle. The persistent flashbacks remind me of High Plains Drifter (1973), which I can see as both interesting and slightly overproduced by the time one sees a sepia tone sequence involving folks you know are responsible again (which is where you see Hooks at any point of the film). The strong silent type works fine for Van Peebles, because in a film of generally familiar roles, he doesn't strain himself one bit, unless one finds macho posturing to be some sort of bad thing (one isn't exactly expecting a comedy Western like Blazing Saddles). Of the folks around him in the "posse", probably Baldwin does best when it comes to conniving relief, although Kane's relaxed composure is close at hand. If one accepts the array of appearances that might as well be cameos, it is fine to see folks like Hayes appear briefly (and yes, one does get a scene or so with father and son of Van Peebles, which I would expect for indulgences). Zane chomps the screen from time to time in general skullduggery that is totally in line with a fun Western outlook (complete with eyepatch and ridiculous final scene), while Jordan (in his penultimate film role prior to his death in 1993) strikes at the heart of venom and malice that is also fair to appreciate in acting. As a whole, the film is frenzied and probably a bit slipshod when it comes to doing anything particularly new with the genre, but I appreciate the attempt to make a black cowboy film on one's own terms. It was fun enough to watch once and get a few kicks out of the execution of action, and it might work out just as well for you if one is the mindset for what it is selling. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Usual Suspects.

Review #1508: The Usual Suspects.

Cast: 
Stephen Baldwin (Michael McManus), Gabriel Byrne (Dean Keaton), Benicio del Toro (Fred Fenster), Kevin Pollak (Todd Hockney), Kevin Spacey (Roger "Verbal" Kint), Chazz Palminteri (Dave Kujan), Pete Postlethwaite (Kobayashi), Suzy Amis (Edie Finneran), Giancarlo Esposito (Jack Baer), and Dan Hedaya (Sergeant Jeff Rabin) Produced and Directed by Bryan Singer (#008 - X-Men, #010 - X2, #584 - X-Men: Days of Future Past, and #1077 - Superman Returns)

Review: 
"I believe that as a writer and a director, you're only providing the skeleton of a character, and you're hiring actors to fill it out."

It's easy to make a film people remember when you have assembled a script worth thinking about. Christopher McQuarrie spent his first few years out of high school (spent with classmate Singer) doing some traveling and work in a boarding school and a detective agency. His first foray into film came with Public Access (which he co-wrote with Singer) in 1993, which he co-wrote with Singer and Michael Feit Dougan. The film did win some attention from critics (such as with the Sundance Film Festival), but it ultimately did not find much of an audience to play to. The thing that sparked interest in writing the film came about from seeing a title of a Spy magazine column that was "The Usual Suspects" (which also happens to be a classic line from Casablanca), and a casual conversation about doing a film with that title led later on to Singer asking if he could write a film for him with that in mind (since there was interest by investors interested in their last work for a $3 million project). McQuarrie, working at a law firm at the time, found inspiration in a small white room that looked like one used for interrogation, with this springing to mind a character who talks too much; names for some of the characters would come from stuff revolving around McQuarrie in his workplace, such as the interrogator (named for a office manager at the firm) and even Keyser Söze (although the last name was changed from real life).

The most interesting parts of the film involve those little moments of interaction between the core cast that we follow along with in its story, more so in the first half than the second. It is Byrne who we gravitate to in terms of interest, one who just grabs at you with a flickering intensity that certain inspires a certain kind of imagination as to what he really is, since he is the figure we see in the midst of events that had started the film anyway. Baldwin follows along with useful pacing that is quick on the trigger in high-temperedness. Del Toro does fine with a share of eccentricity that lends curiosity for what really seems to be a plain character on paper. Pollak proves worthy of a few cheeky smiles in short fused-temperament, while Palminteri proves a worthy one to contrast against the core group of seediness with coarse charm. Spacey is the key to plenty in the film, since he is the one we are listening to and viewing within the background of the perspective, and he does a fairly decent job in unassuming nature, useful to the film is what it shows without seeming like an extra presence, verbalizing himself with effective weaving.

You know those movies that people say they would like for you to see in how it plays out? There are some films that people can really, really get into, ones that can lend plenty of discussion for how something "just works", something far more than what one could assume from a noir mystery and so on and so on. Honestly, the one sticking point for me when it comes to this film is that I wish it was better than I expected. What was there to expect? The climax at the end isn't exactly spoiler-free from pop culture, but it generally does help to not read too much into an ending for a film before you watch it anyway (look, either Keyser Söze will be revealed to us in the end as either someone already established or he won't be at all, it isn't exactly more than a binary choice). The film relies on this twist because of its perspective that it wants to tell within its confines of a story that perhaps works for numerous viewings, one might say (it has been described as Double Indemnity meets Rashomon). Well, that doesn't really work if you don't find its shaggy dog kind of storytelling that particularly highly to begin with, a big trick to play on the audiences. The cast ultimately plays into part of how this film falls into what I like to call the "five stages of movie classic disappointment" (in which one does when they are faced with a movie people like but you don't, which obviously differs from the inverse of normal movie disappointment, namely in paragraphs). In this never-tested method, they would represent denial, in that I am believing that because they do pretty well, I cling to the idea that this really will be a great film. Anger (or in this case, frustration, because who really gets mad at being tricked by a film?) presumably kicks in right around when the story starts to teeter a bit too long in making me keep caring to the inevitable stop. Bargaining comes around in the whiny voice of consciousness that argues that wants me to compromise (in other words, not just immediately say this film isn't quite right without a little bit of digging) and think of it as "good, but not quite perfect" because maybe the climax really will prove itself. This leads to that fourth stage of depression (disappointment), where I just sit through the motions of how it really chooses to go the way it goes and sighing all the way, with that fifth stage standing right there practically mocking me when I finish that last train of thought.

This isn't to say I hated the film, because I actually did find it okay in making a fair piece of curiosity with a few highlights within conventional folks made fair through the actors (such as the scene where they all have to say a line in a police lineup), but in my view its magic trick leaves me feeling indifferent rather than astonishment. Pull that tablecloth from under the table all you want, but that doesn't make it a cool trick if I can see the way you "did it" coming.  Conventional can seem old hat and tired, but you know what was better in its portrayal of details and chase in the same year that this came out? Coincidence or not, that film is Seven (1995), which also happened to feature Spacey in a key role. Why stop there? Why not just chuck along a better film in dealing with stringed-together storytelling in Reservoir Dogs (1992)? Look, sometimes a film just doesn't have the reaching power it thinks it does, and that just falls to the perspective of the person who just saw it, and I just thought it was okay. I can understand the accolades and praise it received from certain audiences (which included an Academy Award for its screenplay, beating films of that year such as Braveheart and Toy Story) while also reaching the final stage of movie-classic-disappointment-grief: Acceptance that it just isn't completely what I think of when I think of a classic, and I move on to the next one.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.