If you’re going to watch ‘companion piece’ movies then these two barking mad features are the ones for you.
The only thing really connecting them is the title, the film from 2009 the most loose ‘remake’ ever. Harvey Keitel goes Full-Harvey and Nicolas Cage goes Full-Cage. You can’t choose a winner. The films aren’t about plotting or themes; they are just an opportunity for the actor to do a Brando, go a wee bit nuts. And it’s a joy to watch. Stay off the drugs, people!
Somehow, Kietel and Cage both wound up in an appalling feature named National Treasure (2004), phoning it in in the worst way. They look bored shitless. As was I. But one has to pay the bills so I forgive them.
Lee Marvin had a bonkers year in 1967, this thriller and The Dirty Dozen representing the peak of his cult, not that your random audience member knew it at the time. They are a curious twosome as Point Blank appears a blueprint for a future style of film aesthetics and the Robert Aldrich ripper a throwback or definition of the classical form, if not in its then-graphic onscreen violence. It’s a watershed 52 weeks. I wasn’t alive back then, and thank fuck. But it looks eventful (just watch The Graduate).
What a seductive picture, and even the jarring time jumps work to reinforce the dreamy atmosphere of the film. The precise framing and use of colour, it LOOKS AMAZING (CAPS LOCK ALERT). The overlapping sound is pre-Robert Altman but betters those seminal works because it’s more than a silly afterthought or accident. There are scenes in this which require so little dialogue they may as well be Godard in a traffic jam. It’s an exercise in stylistics. You get this with first-time filmmakers or those in the early throes of the game – the bold choices, the going with the instinct. Peckinpah retained it almost to the end. Scorsese – the last man standing – still has it.
This is peak Tarantinto three decades before peak Tarantino. But without the feet obsession.
It’s also hilarious. Marvin has to be the coolest bloke to ever be off his tits. He retains throughout a semi-plastered hangdog expression and even in his quietest rage barely looks interested in proceedings. It’s all too easy for Marvin. All he wants is his cash but not even the corporate pyramid semi-responsible for his fate are even capable of doing the basics. Almost everyone in this movie is useless. It’s a life lesson.
Point Blank is a relic and a template.
P.S. There is no relation between this and Point Break (1991), which I watched a few weeks ago.
An introduction to Wang Chung could not be scripted, but here we all are. It’s such a great movie to the extent that I am impressed with the soundtrack; the music choices are usually embarrassing with these pictures and I suppose the ’80s are mostly like that. Manhunter (1986) springs to mind as an example, a film that approaches implosion through the worst possible jukebox selections.
This oozes seductive style, Los Angeles a sun-blitzed glossy furnace of cops and criminals. Friedkin has, in spite of his occasional forays into turkeys, always understood the need to carve out a credible world for the narrative and impose a vision on the environment. So few directors appear to care for how their movies look; they are merely the point-and-shoot variety. This bloke, though, has a handle on the material. And the detail without being overbearing.
And the car chase in the film is another rarity; like Friedkin’s own The French Connection (1971), it’s backed up by actual character motivation. Apparently, one of the most recent Fast & Furious … things raked in a billion. The production cast and crew shut down half of Edinburgh a few years back with their silly antics. It will no doubt make a fortune, yet To Live and Die in L.A. (1985) recouped a pittance.
The official narrative is that Get Shorty (1995) fits into the vanguard of that John Travolta mid-’90s comeback which lasted all the way until Battlefield Earth (2000). I’ve never seen the latter but hear it’s atrocious; it’s on my list.
Get Shorty is wildly entertaining, if not especially revelatory about its subject matter, nor does it offer anything new. It’s an exercise in style and the merits of characterisation, amusing without being particularly laugh-out-loud funny. Most of the fun derives from watching Chili Palmer charm his way into the movie business and outwit everyone else. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but appears to. There’s a lot to be said for that.
And Gene Hackman, once again, is superb. He really wasn’t (he’s apparently retired now) afraid to play the ‘loser type’ despite being your definition of the macho male. It’s almost uncomfortable witnessing his antics here, especially his attempts to play the hard man to Dennis Farina’s Miami mobster.
John Heard is something else in this show; he imbues corrupt cop Vin Makazian with so many layers you wish he was a regular. We are introduced to him pissing in a bush outside of a nursing home. That’s how you do it. He was nominated for an Emmy for this. He should have won it. He never really got the best career considering his talents. It’s another case of what might have been.
I was in my relative infancy when this shitstorm happened and I still struggle putting it together in 2021. In essence, a lot of greedy folk got very greedy and fucked the whole economic foundations of the world, and governments in almost every country – mostly your alleged left-wing or centre parties trying to get big business on their sides – let it happen.
The setting is clearly Lehman Brothers but I think it’s a bit too kind on them as there are folk in this, boardroom members, with consciences, albeit they still tow the line. It’s riveting drama, a movie with such tense exchanges they are gripping even if you don’t understand what the characters are referring to. You’d need a glossary at times if it weren’t for the Zachary Quinto character who thankfully acts as a conduit to the financial layman amongst us.
There are few histrionics, mainly just rational, coldly logical decisions based on the almighty $ and it’s chilling. You get the scene with the cleaner in the lift oblivious to how the blokes in the foreground are about to crash the system and somewhere down the line she is going to get shafted, i.e., end up paying for it, yet she did her job. It’s never polemical in the Oliver Stone sense, and it isn’t a stylistically razzmatazz event. And it’s Kevin Spacey’s last great film role. He is pure Spacey here and I’m not going to get into the legal stuff because I … will, like all filmgoers, never know the facts. But it’s a shame he departed.
Trying to relate this to a reality I can understand: this Irishman living in the States and his rant for the ages.
Shockingly (for me as I’ve catalogued most of these ’80s classics) I’d never seen this until last week. It could be made today, that’s how ‘undated’ it is. What an experience – genuinely a hoot and wholly relatable. We’ve all been stuck next to some annoying blabbermouth on what seems like a never-ending journey into the abyss. And who can’t relate to a transportation fiasco.
It’s also a subtle portrayal of class, the difficulties of breaking barriers, and ultimately and reluctantly working together to get where you need to be. A life lesson! This should be screened at office training days or something.
One scene came out of nowhere in its profanity, and it’s quite the spectacle seeing Steve Martin finally crack. He wasn’t going to intimate that rental agent, but he did a wonderful job in articulating the pain of dealing these sorts.
I saw this in the cinema when it came out and thought it amusing but couldn’t quite articulate why. Now I get it: you’re just laughing at these ‘characters’ and how stupid they are. I don’t find it funny to laugh at this. Almost every scene is an extended shot of our aloof protagonist doing something unusual and not being aware of it. That’s about it. Another one of these self-consciously ‘quirky’ movies about absolutely nothing – celebrating geekdom is not a subject matter – that goes quite literally nowhere. And I hate Jamiroquai.
This movie had so much potential; during its production I was sincerely anticipating the greatest motion picture event … ever. Upon first viewing I desperately wanted to love it but couldn’t help but make a mental note of everything about the shitter which vexed me. There was something seriously wrong with this movie.
It is pointlessly and relentlessly weird, depicting 1860s New York as something out of a comic book. I’m sure the experience of living in what was by all accounts a cesspit approximating a cartoon strip at times, but it simply can’t have been as baroque as the ludicrous fancy dress show on display in GONY.
The movie has this irritating tendency for revelling in micro details about stuff that has zilch to do with the overall narrative, as if it’s half history lesson and half entertainment. I see no reason for the Manhattan draft riots to be treated with such gravity. This is the only Scorsese film in which he appears overwhelmed by the material, which I find completely baffling as it’s about New York, crime, and religion, his cinema oeuvre.
Weirdly (again), it is bereft of energy. It feels like a painful Baz Luhrmann film, the cinematography and editing just jarring – insert bonkers Speedy Gonzales shot here, a rapid cut there. Even the voice-over is draining. And it ends with a U2 song and a shot of the Twin Towers. Is this MTV?
And why even insert Cameron Diaz in this? Her ‘accent’ (or whatever) is diabolical, as is Leo’s. The latter appears way out of his depth, evidently awed by the full-method Daniel Day-Lewis. I must also confess that I think it’s the great Day-Lewis’ worst ever performance. He’s just comedy, nothing else; I can’t take him seriously any time he gets … serious.
Sadly, I keep giving the film a chance every few years. The only parellel I can think of is when you open the fridge expecting a different result from when you opened it 30 minutes prior.
I finally signed up for the Netflix 30-day free trial – just for Scorsese. The three-and-a-half hour running time was well worth the two nauseating minutes it took to register. Bloody hell is it sublime. Scorsese pulls out all the stops in his … Scorseseness, yet the movie is something more than a swansong to the gangster epics that have served him so well.
De-ageing VFX.
Elegiac, somber, the last half-hour is a strong contender for most tragic epilogue of the 2010s. It reminded me a bit of Once Upon a Time in America (1984) but without the sprawling romanticism shaped mainly by Ennio Morricone’s iconic score. De Niro here gives his best performance since Heat (1995), which is understandable since he’s spent two decades being Dirty Grandpa or Paul Vitti or tormenting a pratfalling Ben Stiller.
More importantly, Joe Pesci is back and he is majestic. You need to see him in this. You need to see this film.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 