The Drop

THE DROP          B+         
USA  (106 mi)  2014  ‘Scope  d:  Michaël R. Roskam       Official site

Everybody has a past…There are some sins that you commit, that you can’t come back from, no matter how hard you try. 

—Bob Saginowski

Listen, listen, just take it easy.  Listen to me.  That is life.  That’s what it is.  People like me, coming along when you’re not looking. 

—Eric Deeds (Matthias Schoenaerts)

Only Roskam’s second film, following the international acclaim received with the bleak but riveting Belgian film 2012 Top Ten Films of the Year: #6 Bullhead (Rundskop) , which immediately caught the attention of Hollywood executives who invited him to make his second film in America, offering him the script of well-known screenwriter, Dennis Lehane, who penned Clint Eastwood’s MYSTIC RIVER (2003), Ben Affleck’s Gone Baby Gone (2007), and Martin Scorsese’s SHUTTER ISLAND (2010), not to mention several episodes of the popular television show The Wire (2004 – 08), so he is a proven commodity.  Working with Lehane’s short story Animal Rescue set in Boston, the filmmaker has assembled an extraordinary international cast and makes the most of it, transporting the film to a non-descript Brooklyn neighborhood where dirty money changes hands on a nightly basis.  The story centers around a neighborhood dive bar known as Cousin Marv’s, the name of the former owner, the late James Gandolfini in his final role, wearing a New York Jets hoodie, hanging Yankees and Giants posters on the walls, who lost his bar nearly a decade ago to Chechen gangsters, but continues to run the place, making regular payments to the mob, who make deals, investments, collect on bets won or lost, and at the end of the night the money has to end up somewhere, where the last stop along the way is a money drop funneling cash to organized crime in an underworld network of Brooklyn bars, where the location changes from day to day to keep the heat off of any one specific bar.  The noirish inner narration is provided by Marv’s street savvy bartender, Bob Saginowski, Tom Hardy from Locke (2013) channeling Brando’s Terry Malloy in Elia Kazan’s ON THE WATERFRONT (1954), where he’s a local kid from the neighborhood seemingly without much education, who doesn’t talk much but is a straight up guy, honest, hard working, and dependable, where Marv is his actual cousin, and the two have a familiar way of talking to one another as if they’ve known each other for years, which of course they have.  Nothing phases these two guys, as they’ve been through it all, but they’re a bit taken aback when a couple of punks wearing masks rob the place one night, taking $5000 of mob money out of the register.  A visit from Chovka (Michael Aronov) and his heavies wanting their money back doesn’t make them rest any easier, where they’re on the hook for the missing money.    

When an overly curious cop (John Ortiz) shows up sniffing around for clues, he recognizes Bob from seeing him at mass, but also that he hasn’t taken communion in over twenty years, suggesting his watchful eyes and ears are everywhere.  At about the same time, Bob discovers a wounded pit bull puppy abandoned in a trash can, where the home owner, Nadia (Noomi Rapace), invites him in and helps clean up the dog, where they become friends, of a sort, where both seem to be harboring a world of secrets, scarred and wounded souls themselves that are otherwise nearly completely disconnected from the rest of the world with no friends, no social life, no real prospects for the future, but go about their daily business in the light of day seemingly invisible to others.  These are the kinds of characters that inhabit Lehane stories, thieves, thugs, and hard guys, as he specializes in establishing authenticity in working class neighborhoods, where cinematically retaining his attention to detail is essential, filled with characters who are dark and moody, usually still haunted by disturbing incidents or horrible choices from their past, living lives of sin and redemption, where it’s not at all surprising to find some that are nearly doomed, as tragedy awaits their every step.  After Bob takes the dog home and tries to provide a normal and stable environment, he’s visited by an ominously dangerous figure, Eric Deeds, Matthias Schoenaerts from Bullhead (Rundskop) (2011) and Rust and Bone (De rouille et d'os) (2011), who likely inflicted the damage to both the dog and Nadia, whose brooding presence, and the knowledge that he likely killed one of Marv’s old customers, is a continuous threat.  Both men are lonesome characters defined by keeping things to themselves, hiding some sort of shady past, but have now apparently gone straight.  Bob’s connection to Nadia has been transforming, both for the dog and himself, but Eric wants them both back, threatening to inflict more damage on the dog if there is any trouble.  While Bob is busy dealing with the insane presence of Eric, reminiscent of the demented criminality of Peter Stormare in Fargo (1996), Marv has the mob to answer to, where this mysterious interplay in and out of a shadowy world provides tense and creepy atmosphere throughout.  The film is a pensive, darkly troubling slow burn of unfolding events, where the somber music by Marco Beltrami and Raf Keunen never interferes, remaining quietly atmospheric in the background, where the film accentuates the performances of the characters, trusting the depth and complexity they bring to the screen. 

While the short story was written ten years ago, Lehane expanded the screenplay for the making of the movie, and only afterwards wrote a short novel to support the film.  Opening with a group of men toasting a friend who died (or was murdered) ten years ago, a kid named Richie Whalen, aka Glory Days, where Marv offers free shots on the house, while muttering to Bob that these men “need to move on.”  Marv is a kind of gloomy character who will never be satisfied because life didn’t turn out the way he wanted, so he nitpicks and harps on every last little detail, believing life doesn’t offer anybody a chance.  When the mob money mysteriously arrives all covered in blood in a plastic sack, after a long pause awaiting the verdict, Chovka is satisfied with the results, announcing the biggest drop of the year will take place in the bar on Super Bowl Sunday.  Drenched in brooding atmosphere, the film is a parade of compelling characters that are continually underplayed throughout, where in the criminal world emotions are viewed as a weakness, so instead this is a minimalist film noir that continually explores the dark side of human nature.  Violence in this film is continually alluded to, but comes infrequently, yet the effect can be startling, where lives are spinning in the balance, as Roskam does an excellent job drawing the audience into this bleak yet lurid world, inhabited by such world-weary figures.  As Eric, who is little more than a thug, puts pressure on Bob to return his dog, he decides to take ten grand for the dog as his final offer, due by the next day.  When Bob protests that some stranger can’t just walk into somebody’s life and expect ten grand, Eric has the perfect answer that may as well be the theme of the film, “Listen, listen, just take it easy.  Listen to me.  That is life.  That’s what it is.  People like me, coming along when you’re not looking.”  True enough, this is a film that plays with the audience’s expectations, that dangles possibilities out there like a carrot on a stick and then goes in another direction, as the real beauty of the film is figuring out what lays underneath the surface, where people dwell on the past, but not always on what you think, as often it’s different than what they tell you, offering a smokescreen to hide the real truth.  Roskam has the audience guessing as to the true nature of each of these characters, where the grizzled performances are among the year’s best, especially Tom Hardy, who literally transforms himself into the role, the kind of part Harvey Keitel would play in the Scorsese movies, as despite the seedy world that surrounds him, he never wants to move far from the moral center, even as he deals with such brutally dark extremes, where mob guys are capable of anything.  The story has a savage center, where the beast is in man, yet so is the possibility of redemption. 

The Hustler

THE HUSTLER           A                     
USA  (134 mi)  1961  ‘Scope  d:  Robert Rossen

No bar, no pinball machines, no bowling alleys, just pool... nothing else. This is Ames, mister.        —cashier (Gordon B. Clarke)    

One of the outstanding films of the 60’s, the kind of American classic they just don’t make any more, perhaps modeled after Marlon Brando as Terry Mallow, a guy with mixed emotions and a tormented soul, with dreams of becoming a championship boxer in Elia Kazan’s ON THE WATERFRONT (1954), but the seedy side of the sport gets in the way.  While the general consensus for the greatest sports movies ever made tend to thrive on schmaltz and sentimentality, where the names Hoosiers (1986) or MIRACLE (2004) spring to mind, but nothing comes close to the searing realism of this film where winning at all costs is the name of the game, no matter the price, one of the bleaker psychological expressions of an athlete’s interior struggles.  Few films depict the dark side of sports as blisteringly truthful as this one, where faded hopes and broken dreams must be crushed in order to overcome the pain of having lost everything.  It’s a gritty and bittersweet journey expressed through magnificent black-and-white cinematography shot by Eugen Schüfftan, a master class in lighting and ‘Scope framing, where winning is not redemptive and cannot replace the value of what’s lost, actually making winning a losing proposition.  Told with a downbeat tone and a jazzy score from Kenyon Hopkins, much of the film takes place in the smoky confines of a pool hall where with the technical help of 14-time world billiards champion Willie Mosconi, the action literally pops off the screen and the room comes alive, especially the opening 40-minutes of the film which are simply enthralling.  Paul Newman is “Fast Eddie” Felson in a performance that arguably represents the peak of his career, showing an intensity that can't be found anywhere else in the actor’s lifetime, working the small-time pool rooms as he makes his way across the country from Oakland to New York, where when he finally reaches the pool palace that is the renown Ames Billiard Academy in Manhattan, home of the best player in the world, the resplendent Jackie Gleason as Minnesota Fats, also known as the Fat Man, a term affectionately used in the presence of royalty.  To Eddie, the room is quiet as a church, a sacred mecca to men in his trade, but to his partner Charlie Burns (Myron McCormick) who’s accompanied him on his cross-country trek, “Looks more like a morgue to me. Those tables are the slabs they lay the stiffs on.”

Rossen and William Carroll co-wrote the brilliant screenplay, adapted from the Walter Tevis novel, where three of his six novels have been turned into movies, including THE HUSTLER (1962), the follow-up THE COLOR OF MONEY (1986), and the sci-fi movie The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976).  Rossen was charged by the House Un-American Activities Committee as a former member of the Communist Party and after refusing to testify he was initially blacklisted by the Hollywood studios, but when he was called back he named 57 people as current or former Communists in order to revive his career.  Had he not cooperated, one seriously doubts whether this film would ever have been made. Certainly the pervasive tone of cynicism and bitterness running throughout the film may have originated with his disillusionment from those McCarthy hearings.  Rossen’s films reflect his sympathies for the working man, where ambition and a drive for success are common themes, where the hero is undone by flaws in his character and an often exploitive work environment, occasionally basing his screenplays on real subjects.  While Minnesota Fats is a fictional character from the book, real life professional pool player Rudolf Wanderone Jr., known as “New York Fats,” always claimed the character was based on himself, turning his momentary fame into book deals and television appearances, including a series of highly publicized matches with Willie Mosconi, who plays the character Willie in the film, also seen is professional boxer Jake LaMotta, the subject of Martin Scorsese’s RAGING BULL (1980), playing a bartender, while an uncredited Blue Washington, a black actor from the early Hollywood Silent era, plays the limping pool attendant at Ames.  Of noted significance, both Newman, who trained intently for the performance, and Gleason, already an accomplished player, perform their own pool shots, while several Mosconi-aided specialty shots were added for effect.  But the dingy atmosphere, the grime and stench of the poolroom, with 24 hour marathon games going all day and night, are perfectly captured by Rossen, especially the raw emotion of the moment where players are in their element.  Newman portrays Felson as a complicated character who thrives on the adrenaline rush, riding the tide where he runs the table with ease, cocky and confident, seemingly unbeatable, but then something happens, or a remark gets under his skin and starts to gnaw at him, literally eating him alive where he dies a little bit with each lost game.  He’s a compulsive gambler who doesn’t know when to quit, riding huge winning streaks to giant cash holdings, but then is just as apt to lose it all in a downward tailspin.  While the poolroom is the apparent setting, the film is more about the internal trappings of obsession, what you have to sacrifice in your life to win, and what defines a man who is searching just as hard to discover his own long lost character as he is for victories.  This moral interior struggle, which is the same for anyone, is the real heart and soul of the film.  Newman's iconic performance paved the way for the rebel anti-heroes of the 60’s and even the 70’s, flawed and tormented characters that would lead to the likes of Warren Beatty’s Bonnie and Clyde (1967), Jack Nicholson’s Five Easy Pieces (1970), Al Pacino’s Dog Day Afternoon (1975), and Robert De Niro’s Taxi Driver (1976).    

With victory so close he could taste it, Eddie revels in the illusory moment of invincibility, all liquored up and preening like a peacock instead of staying in the moment, where Eddie’s descent into defeat is monumental, losing it all, literally collapsing from exhaustion when he realizes it’s over.  In this dazed stupor of letting it all get away, he spends the night in a bus station where he meets another ship drifting in the night at a coffee shop, Piper Laurie as Sarah Packard, another bleary-eyed, disillusioned soul who spends too much of her time drinking, mostly to avoid facing the truth about her own pathetic existence.  Both from the school of hard knocks who have to learn the hard way, the two play house for a bit, while he recovers what’s left of his wounded pride, but eventually he feels the itch to get back into the game, letting his pent-up pride and vanity get the better of him by wiping a guy off the table and letting him know it, which only gets his thumbs broke in a decrepit warehouse district that doesn’t take kindly to pool hustlers.  Sarah nurses him back to health and falls in love with him in the process, where there’s a beautiful scene of the two of them having a picnic overlooking a river where Eddie explains the feeling he gets when everything is going right and he knows he can’t lose, where he can make shots nobody’s ever made before, which is a zone athletes can all relate to, as they’ve been there before, where everything just falls into place, as if by fate.  The beauty of this moment is the audience has already seen this with their own eyes in the earlier poolhall sequences, bookended later in the film with this dazzling poolhall montage The Hustler Final Pool Game HD - YouTube (1:28).  Despite her declarations of love, this barely registers with Eddie, as all he wants to do is get back into the game, swallowing his pride and turning instead to one of the most vile and ferocious portraits of power and blind ambition, George C. Scott as high stakes gambler and manager Bert Gordon, one of the more thoroughly despicable characters he’s ever played, not that far removed from Lee J. Cobb’s ruthlessly corrupt union boss in ON THE WATERFRONT.  Gordon is all about the money, where he’ll step over anybody who stands in his way, showcasing Eddie like he would a prize-winning racehorse.  Scott was so upset he didn’t win an Oscar for this performance that he denounced the Academy and refused to accept his Best Actor award in PATTON (1970).  But it’s Rossen who finds the cinema magic, beautifully blending all the swirling tragic and heartbreaking elements, perfectly edited by a young Dede Allen, ending not with resounding victory or glory, as everyone dreams of, but with intense grief and a quiet, bewildering dismay.  Is this what winning looks like?  Described by Roger Ebert (Chicago Sun-Times [Roger Ebert]) as “one of those films where scenes have such psychic weight that they grow in our memories,” this is one of the great character studies where the secondary performers are as memorable as the leads, offering depths of emotion rarely seen anywhere, among the most unforgettable performances ever captured in American film.  

The Beat That My Heart Skipped (De battre mon coeur s'est arête)

THE BEAT THAT MY HEART SKIPPED 

(De battre mon coeur s'est arête)         B+                  

France  (108 mi)  2005  d:  Jacques Audiard

There’s a monkey on my back

A French update on James Toback’s 1978 debut film FINGERS, a film considered by Jonathan Rosenbaum as little more than “macho braggadocio,” however, the hyper-kinetic style alone in this updated version rocks, mixing the in-your-face, cinéma vérité, hand-held camera work of Stéphane Fontaine with the immediacy of French New Wave quick cut editing, where the attention span is a mere few seconds, creating a nervous tension in the way the film is presented that matches the mood of the lead character, Romain Duris, who could be the poster child for the word angst, a sensitive thug who plays techno-rock on his headset, thumping away with his fingers to the beat, including the wrenching sounds of The Kills “Monkey 23” The Kills - Monkey 23 - YouTube (3:02).  He’s the son of a deceased classical pianist and an overweight, over-indulgent slumlord father, Niels Arestup, who could be a stand-in for Toback, whose mannerisms resemble late Brando.  He takes care of the dirty family business for Dad, retrieving, by any means necessary, the hard to collect overdue rent, usually through an improvisational violent assault that includes a near death experience. He collaborates with a couple other dirtbags-in-suits who specialize in get rich quick real estate schemes, also including a mix of Mafioso-style legalese and plenty of muscle, stopping to have an affair with the alluring wife (Aure Atika) of one of his best friends, who he usually sees when he brings his friend home drunk, making sure the Toback influenced sex and violence explode off the screen. 

Duris, however, has another interest on the side—his continued interest in being a classical pianist, which leads him to an audition later in the month, which requires intensive training.  He hires a recent émigré from China (Linh Dan Pham) who speaks Chinese, Vietnamese, and a little English, but no French.  Perfect.  Their scenes together are among the best in the entire film, as he has an explosive temper that he has to keep under wraps, and achieving an emotionally controlled pianistic perfection is no easy feat.  Their communication together, each speaking their own language or watching their body language or hearing their quiet silences, is a revelation in this film that features the recurring universe and behavior of thugs.  The contradiction here is too apparent, as he uses his hands to bash people’s skulls in, yet they’re also required to obtain a musical state of grace.  It was impossible not to think of what happened to Fast Eddie Felson in THE HUSTLER (1961).  Duris, however, pulls this off, seemingly a bit of a psychotic, nearly always with a slight grin on his face, who shows us on more than one occasion how quickly he can think on his feet, so the internal wheels are always churning, but he also quietly and respectfully has a cup of tea with his piano teacher, revealing a calmness after the storm.  The story is always a bit implausible, but the realization of a man torn between two distinctly polar opposite worlds is both internally and externally raw, edgy and well-conceived.

Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid

PAT GARRETT & BILLY THE KID              A-                   

USA  (106 mi)  1973  ‘Scope  d:  Sam Peckinpah              

1988 restored version (122 mi)             2005 DVD Special Edition (115 mi)

There are various cuts of this film, the original at 106 minutes which was drastically cut by the studios, a 1988 restored version which adds 15 minutes, and a 2005 Special Edition DVD that cuts half of the added minutes.  By all accounts, the 1988 restored version is the way to go, but a recent theater screening turned out to be the 115 minute Special Edition version which cuts some actors out of the movie completely, edits out certain lines as well while re-structuring various scenes.  Peckinpah’s last western feels like a somber death march, a mournful, poetic elegy to an end of an era where the values that men stood by were slowly disappearing along with their freedoms, replaced by the will of a few rich and powerful men who ruled the territory, monetarily and politically, putting an entirely new restricted face of commerce on what used to be wide open spaces and the land of the free.  The applicable metaphor, which is mentioned in the film, is their utter disgust at men who would fence in the West, in this case, cattle barons.  Set in New Mexico in 1881, James Coburn, in what is easily the performance of his career, chucks that career-defining hustler’s grin for a solemn frown as Pat Garrett, a world weary former gunslinger turned lawman, a man who rode with Billy the Kid in some capacity in their past, who opens the film riding into town visiting the Kid, a very young and clean shaven Kris Kristofferson, warning him to get out of the territory, as in 5 days he’ll become a lawman sworn to get rid of him, cleaning up the state, making it safer for bankers and cattle owners and prospective business ventures.  Even earlier, before the opening credits, there is a Black and White sequence of Garrett himself getting gunned down, an event that happens some 30 years into the future, certainly a foreshadowing of ominous things to come, and an interesting use of differing time periods where the death of both are mysteriously but inevitably linked together.    

The first 45 minutes of the film are simply extraordinary, featuring the music by Bob Dylan, whose name is credited above the title of the film and who also appears in a small role, where the mixture of sepia and Black and White from the opening set the tone for some astonishing use of ‘Scope by cinematographer John Coquillon, capturing the essential brightness of the empty desert landscape in early morning, but also the extreme light at dusk, where one of the more brilliant shots is seeing a rider on a horse on the far shore of a river get buried in the dark shadows, but a clear and vivid silhouetted reflection can be seen in the water as he rides across the entire length of the screen.  Two of the opening set pieces are riveting, among the best in the film, the taking of Billy alive and his subsequent jailhouse break out, which is unlike anything seen before or since.  After his memorable escape, someone brings him a horse which immediately throws him, an unusual commentary since it happens in front of a gawking crowd on Main Street right in front of the hangman’s execution site they are constructing.  From that point on, Garrett is on a mission to appoint involuntary deputies to help go after him, avoiding until the end the one place he’s most likely to be, instead visiting a litany of ornery characters throughout the vast territory who are never introduced but seem to have a history together, whose faces are synonymous with westerns, who simply appear out of thin air, where virtually every sequence is built around inevitable killings, compiling a high body count by the end, even for Peckinpah.  These secondary characters are essential, however, as they provide the emotional heft of the film, starting out with Slim Pickens and his rifle toting wife Katy Jurado, carrying bullets in her breast, both of whom appeared in Marlon Brando’s ONE-EYED JACKS (1961) a decade earlier, who silently express with their eyes everything we need to know about the murderous and endlessly bleak landscape.  

As Garrett wanders through the vast expanse of the territory, it’s obvious he’s not in any hurry, that he’s simply setting the tone for his mission by announcing his intentions across the state.  The Kid as well shows no sign of panic or alarm, as the film loses much of its initial vigor and sense of expectation and instead seems to meander slowly to its inevitable conclusion.  Unlike Brando’s film, based on the same Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid source material, The Authentic Death of Hendry Jones by Charles Neider, who inverts the story making the Kid the killer, another infurioratingly downbeat western where a maniacal lawman (Karl Malden) seeks public glorification by building a reputation of killing or humiliating a notorious outlaw (Brando), similar to Gene Hackman’s Sheriff “Little Bill” in Clint Eastwood’s UNFORGIVEN (1992), sadistic lawmen who will resort to murder as a way of enforcing the law, Garrett seeks no public affirmation and asks for no special compensation, and is instead driven by a complex code of honor that is already outdated, like the end of the samurai era, and he wearily knows it, where the routine of killing has become a rotten job doing the bidding of others who are more ruthless and brutally despicable than the so-called outlaw.  While there may have been a motivation at the outset, as the Kid broke out of his jail and he sought revenge, but by the end, after the passage of time, all that is surprisingly meaningless, as what he’s asked to do is kill a friend, man to man, someone he respects perhaps above all others, especially those who are paying him to do it.  This hint of anguish and regret affects every move he makes as he eventually closes in, actually waiting patiently outside the Kid’s window as Kristofferson is making love to his eventual wife Rita Coolidge, another sign of obvious affection and respect.  But this is a story of a destroyed friendship, one who remains a free spirit until the end and another who is encumbered by age, duty, and responsibilities, who disappointingly accepts compromise and domesticity, all of which adds to an alcoholic portrait of bitterness and scorn, contemptuous of the vile men he works for and the short-sighted interests of lawmen who seek the same aim, thinking a kill may somehow bring them glory.  For Garrett, fulfilling his duty leaves a pathetic emptiness, dulling any hopes that the future offers any glimpse of righteousness or respectability.    

The Left-Handed Gun

William Henry McCarty, Jr. aka:  William Bonney, aka:  Billy the Kid (1880)

THE LEFT-HANDED GUN      C+                

USA  (102 mi)  1958  d:  Arthur Penn

A society has its mirror in its outcasts.           —Arthur Penn

A romanticized and sympathetic portrayal of one of American’s iconic outlaws, William Henry McCarty, Jr. aka:  William Bonney, aka:  Billy the Kid, whose legend has been lionized into mythical status through exaggerated newspaper accounts and dime store novels, becoming one of the great figures of the American West.   While there are more than a dozen movie versions of his story, most are fairly second rate accounts of his life, where even the title of this film has been discounted as myth, suggesting the real Billy the Kid was right-handed, but for nearly a century wrongly thought of as left-handed from an archival photograph that was originally viewed through a reversed mirror image.  More interesting accounts of the Kid's story both come from the same source, The Authentic Death of Hendry Jones, a 1956 novel by Charles Neider, used in both Brando’s ONE EYED JACKS (1961) and Sam Peckinpah’s PAT GARRETT & BILLY THE KID (1973), where Peckinpah actually worked as one of the screenwriters on Brando’s film.  Both of those films use a more naturalistic style, though in Brando’s film, he’s hunted down by a maniacal lawman seeking public glorification by killing a notorious outlaw, while in Peckinpah’s he’s regrettably shot down by his best friend, initially seen as an act of revenge for breaking out of jail, but eventually seen as a hollow and meaningless act.  This film, written by Gore Vidal, was originally a 1955 made-for TV movie called The Death of Billy the Kid, expanded by screenwriter Leslie Stevens for a feature length film, using the same lead actor in each, Paul Newman.  Penn’s account turns the Kid into a martyr figure, a common portrait seen throughout Newman’s storied career, especially during the 60’s, THE HUSTLER (1961), HOMBRE (1967), and COOL HAND LUKE (1967).

This is Arthur Penn’s first film, made than a decade before his most infamous outlaw movie, BONNIE AND CLYDE (1967), where one common factor in each is the director’s love for outsiderism and actor Denver Pyle, depicted as a bellicose lawman in each.  Newman’s acting is overly theatrical, typical of the times, where there wasn’t much difference between the histrionics and largesse of stage performances and those before a movie camera.  It was largely the 60’s influence of European films and Jack Nicholson whose understated portrayal in FIVE EASY PIECES (1970) altered the standard, though the existential realism of the Penn performances in MICKY ONE (1965) and BONNIE AND CLYDE certainly helped pave the way.  Newman’s role was originally scripted for James Dean, where the misunderstood feelings of alienation and personal torment are present, where it’s clear the character is curious, but illiterate and uneducated, where from the outset he seems to be lost (wandering without a horse), aimlessly running away from his difficult past.  He hooks up with a cattle drive on their way to Lincoln, becoming something of a hot-headed boy apprentice to his gentleman boss, Tunstall (Colin Keith-Johnston), known as "The Englishman," who affectionately takes him under his wing.  When a crooked sheriff shoots the unarmed Tunstall down in cold blood, the Kid vows revenge, soon joined by two partners in crime, Charlie (James Congdon) and Tom (James Best), though when together, these boys act like mere adolescents.  It’s the speed of the Kid’s gun that brings them quick notoriety, killing the sheriff and one of his partners, quickly idealized in pulp novels that became instant best sellers.  Relatively unknown during his lifetime, his legendary reputation, whose exploits were exaggerated after his death, turned him into a folk hero.   

Like Truffaut’s THE BRIDE WORE BLACK (1968), the Kid has no rest until he can gun down the other two that still remain at-large who were involved with Tunstall’s murder. There are certain story elements that simply get lost, like what happened to all the cattle, as we never see them again, or who became the next sheriff, as we see several men wearing badges afterwards.  Instead, the Kid and his two partners recuperate from injuries and hang out in Mexico where they meet Pat Garrett (John Dehner), another former outlaw who is attempting to settle down there and even get married, where he makes the Kid steadfastly promise there’ll be no trouble at the wedding.  But when he violates that pledge, creating a bloody disturbance on the street, causing mayhem on his wedding day, Garrett grows furious, reverses the roles and vows to hunt the Kid down.  This back and forth of outlaw justice, inseparable from the supposed court appointed civilized justice, creates a moral vacuum, where justice prevails only at the end of a gun.  In an attempt to make the Kid a sympathetic character, he never initiates any of the action, but is always seen as personally trying to implement that non-existent justice of the land, as otherwise the real killers get away scot free.  But in his obsession to carry out this revengeful deed, he loses sight of the world around him, where he interferes with larger political implications, such as the Lincoln County War, a lengthy feud of Kid-included gunfighter killings which instead get confusingly lost and fictionalized in this movie version.  While the director oversimplifies Christian metaphors, such as a man dying with his arms outstretched in the form of a cross, or using a newspaperman as a betraying Judas, the film is at least an attempt to break away from the reliance upon Western myths and misconceptions, but in doing so creates an overly contrived, black and white moral universe where the Kid’s humanity-at-all-costs approach supersedes authenticity or any effort at uncovering the real truth.   

The Yards

THE YARDS                  A                 

USA  (115 mi)  1999  ‘Scope  d:  James Gray

Like an offshoot from THE GODFATHER (1972), using a tense and beautifully realized naturalism with an equally impressive cast, this searingly intense story remains Gray’s best work exposing the behind-the-scenes corruption where various well connected families vie for control and power from the lucrative contracts awarded to provide repairs of the New York City subway system.  The director’s own father worked for a company that supplied parts and needed services for the New York subway, adding an autobiographical touch of authenticity to this story written by Matt Reeves and the director.  It is this close, intimate glimpse that gives the film its power, basically the story of two best friends, a young Joaquin Phoenix as Willie, an on-the-edge character in over his head, as usual, and Mark Wahlberg as Leo, fresh out of prison on car heists, where he apparently took the fall for the rest of the gang.  Shot by Harris Savides who subsequently became Gus van Sant’s cinematographer, the film opens with a welcome home party for Leo awash in warm golden tones with glowing faces accentuated by candlelight, where the restless mood showcases what’s best about James Gray films, where the everpresent food and din of voices underscores a growing sense of underlying urgency.  As Leo greets his mother, Ellen Burstyn, his aunt, Faye Dunaway, and cousin, a stunningly gorgeous dark haired Charlize Theron as Erica, the energy carries them to a nightclub where Willie wants to show off his girlfriend Erica in a dance sequence bathed in red, which grows ecstatic to the gyrating, rhythmic music of Bellini - Samba De Janeiro - YouTube  (2:48), which matches the frenetic mood of Willie who quickly gets in a jealous fight when a guy tries dancing with his girl.  From the outset, territorial boundaries are set, like neighborhoods or families or contracts, where men are willing to do battle in order to protect these invisible lines, where the perception is this is all they’ve got.      

In order to make up for the troubles he’s caused his mother, Leo intends to go straight, but all he knows are the ways of the streets, where he immediately falls back into the same crowd that got him into trouble in the first place.  He goes to see his uncle Frank, brilliantly played by James Caan as if he was the reincarnation of Sonny Corleone given a new chance at life, the guy who now runs the railway contracts, where he explains “If it's on a train or a subway, we make it or we fix it.”  But Frank is hesitant to involve his nephew in the dirty business and tries to steer him straight, but Willie who works for Frank will have none of that, believing there’s plenty of cash to go around, so he starts involving Leo in some of the petty graft, which involves the police, train employees and the local politicians, where it appears everyone is on the take.  Since this well-oiled system is so entrenched in local business practices, who is Leo to suggest it’s wrong?  This is perfectly underscored at a family dinner, where Frank is surprised Leo’s working with Willie, who is basically his bag man, the guy who pays off all the bribes and keeps everyone happy, but he accepts the situation when the women at the table start wondering what’s wrong with Leo working with Willie, since they’re such good friends?  Rather than a typical crime drama where the bad guys are clearly identified by their gun toting violence, this gets underneath the workings of a civilized society where everything is operating under the natural order of business, and when it’s family, everyone looks out for everyone else’s interests.  The character of Frank is actually inspired by Gray’s own father who was involved in a train racketeering scandal from the 80’s.   

This is an exceptional crime film that underplays and nearly eliminates macho dialogue but does place most of the interior scenes in dimly lit rooms that are nearly engulfed in shadows, where Phoenix especially wears the darkness around him like a garment, where his haunting close ups have an especially eerie feel to them.  Howard Shore chooses very sparingly to use grave, ultra dramatic music, adapting the dark and gloomy mood of Saturn from Gustav Holst’s The Planets. Based on the title, it’s inevitable that the most significant scene in the film takes place in the railroad yards, where Willie and a small group routinely damage railroad cars, which steers repair business to Frank, so he brings along Leo, thinking what harm can come of it?  But all hell breaks loose when a yardmaster refuses to play along, which sends everything spiraling out of control.  Leo gets fingered for something he didn’t do and he’s forced to go into hiding, once more taking the rap.  But on parole, he’s not afforded a second chance, so he either has to come clean or disappear.  The brain trust of the family operation works overtime on this one, as rather than someone they can simply get rid of, this is one of their own.  The moral lines are drawn, but everyone is in a quandary.  There’s a calm intelligence and seductive beauty to the way this movie is filmed, right down to the plentiful family meals, the accuracy of the speech inflections, the backroom negotiations playing out at supposedly public meetings, and the use of seedy locations, where Wahlberg’s role is reminiscent of Brando in ON THE WATERFRONT (1954), but he plays it with more quiet reserve, continually expanding his emotional range.  Erica has a spectacularly moving sequence with her stepfather Frank which could literally be an outtake from THE GODFATHER, while sisters Burstyn and Dunaway provide family cohesion with trust and believability.  The performances throughout are simply masterful and cannot be underestimated, as this has the despairing air and undignified feel of people being trapped by the system.

A NOTE OF WARNING - -  it should be pointed out that this film was originally shot in 'Scope, yet the Blu-Ray DVD releases have inexplicably been released in a 1:78 aspect ratio, compromising the look of the film, where the cinematography is one of the more stunning aspects of the film.  Quoting from this Amazon review written by purplefigment:

 

Buyer Beware.. The Yards [Blu-ray] from Echo Bridge Entertainment:

This is a product review for 'The Yards' Blu-ray release by Echo Bridge Entertainment.

Heads up that this 'The Yards' [Blu-ray] release (and additionally the 'The Yards' / 'The Lookout' (Miramax Double Feature) [Blu-ray]) from Echo Bridge Entertainment is heavily compromised (as are most everything released from their Miramax/Dimension Films partnership so far).

- It has been modified to fit your screen (because modified full screen releases were the best ideas from the VHS/DVD days) with 1.78:1 aspect ratio instead of its original intended 2.39:1 aspect ratio and of below average quality even then.

- It has had its audio mix downgraded from its original 5.1 track to 2.0.

- It is missing the extras that were available on its previous DVD release.

Consider the previous Director's Cut Miramax Collector's Series DVD release (never a good sign when the DVD equals or surpasses a Blu-ray release in areas), The Yards - Director's Cut (Miramax Collector's Series). That DVD release is in its intended aspect ratio, 5.1 audio track and contains numerous extras.