Hit Man

 

Director Richard Linklater

Linklater on the set

Linklater with Glen Powell

Linklater directing a scene with Powell and Adria Arjona

Journalist Skip Hollandsworth

HIT MAN                   B+                                                                                                             USA  (115 mi)  2023  ‘Scope  d: Richard Linklater

What Johnson knows, perhaps better than anyone else, is the capability of people, given certain circumstances, to do absolutely savage things to each another.                                                  —Hit Man, Skip Hollandsworth from Texas Monthly, October 2001

While it’s not as funny as the outrageously hilarious Martin McDonagh hit man crime thriller In Bruges (2008), Linklater takes us back into the highly satiric, black comedy crime drama of Bernie (2011), which is largely a love letter to the East Texas region where Linklater grew up, based upon a Skip Hollandsworth article the director read in The Texas Monthly, January 1998, Midnight in the Garden of East Texas.  Hollandsworth, a crime journalist and editor of the magazine, again provided the source material for this film as well, very loosely based on his 2001 Texas Monthly article Hit Man about a man named Gary Johnson (who passed away in 2022), a psychology college professor who moonlighted for the Houston Police Department as a surveillance tech guy, transported here to the city of New Orleans for the movie, adding a few stylish twists, like a setting on Allen Toussaint Boulevard, for instance, complete with brief excerpts of vintage Big Easy songs, music that represents that festive state of mind of the city, as there’s a sly, tongue-in-cheek hilarity in play when Johnson turns into a fake hit man, with Linklater making one of the most joyously entertaining films of his career.  In the 60’s Johnson spent a year in Vietnam as a military policeman overseeing convoys, embarking on a domestic law enforcement career when he returned home, starting as a sheriff’s deputy in Louisiana in the 1970’s, performing undercover work related to drug busts.  His real interest, however, was teaching college psychology, moving to Houston in 1981, but was rejected in the psychology doctoral program, instead taking a job as an investigator for the district attorney’s office, going undercover when the police received a tip that a woman was plotting to kill her husband.  Dressed as a biker, using a fake name and identity, while wired for sound, he posed as a hit man for hire, getting the woman to confess to her intentions, making an arrest after receiving an initial down payment, where she was eventually sentenced to 80 years in prison, the first of literally hundreds of murder-for-hire sting operations (most turned out to be unfounded) that led to more than 60 arrests.  The surprising aspect is that most come from people with no criminal background, ordinary law-abiding citizens with no run-ins with the law, yet looking for a quick fix to eliminate the source of their frustrations, revealing an underbelly of pent-up anger that reflects the current state of a nation teetering on the edge of violence.  Linklater turns this into a hilarious screwball comedy costume drama, as Johnson, played by co-writer and co-producer Glen Powell from Everybody Wants Some !! (2016), expertly changes his personality and uses various disguises (à la Jerry Lewis) custom designed to cater to the interests of each specific client.  Powell is an Austin, Texas actor Linklater first started working with in FAST FOOD NATION (2006) when he was still in high school, but he lights up the screen here, exhibiting extreme confidence in being ruthless, displaying phenomenal range as an actor, yet also a knack for improvising on the spot, Hit Man - Official Clip (2024) Glen Powell, Adria Arjona | IGN ... YouTube (1:14), continually probing different levels of his character, where a montage of these scenes is typically followed by a dopey looking mug shot of the perpetrators after the arrest.     

Johnson is seen as a nerdy, introverted guy who simply doesn’t stand out, as he lives alone with a goldfish and two cats (Ego and Id), leading a quiet life, often seen bird watching or working in his garden, seemingly comfortable with who he is, as he reads Shakespeare, books on Carl Jung, and even Gandhi, with his neighbors reporting he’s always polite.  In his classroom, his philosophic teachings are about identity, weaving together lectures on Freud and Nietzsche and the nature of the self, questioning who you are and how you can transform yourself into a better version of yourself, encouraging them to get out of their shells and “live dangerously,” which is ironic as the students view him as this utterly conventional guy driving a Honda Civic, so completely forgettable that he’s nearly invisible, the complete opposite of a man of action.  His first marriage failed because he was just too boring, though he and his ex-wife continue to maintain a close friendship as they share common interests.  In the undercover work that he performs, he’s the guy sitting in the van ensuring that the mics work for surveillance, providing the necessary recording tapes that can be used in court.  But this all changes when Jasper (Austin Amello, also from Everybody Wants Some !!), the dirty undercover cop who is normally sent in on these operations, gets suspended for questionable on-duty behavior, as video of him pummeling teenagers has gone viral, showing no remorse afterwards, believing they deserved it, so Gary is essentially forced into the role of meeting with the suspect.  Rather than avoid responsibility or passively shirk from his duties, he immediately transforms into this edgy persona, calling himself Ron the hit man, willing to do whatever the situation calls for.  Of course, his job is to convince the suspect that he’s professionally qualified to discreetly handle the dirty work, setting their mind at ease, playing into their fantasies, as he’s simply the guy who can get things done.  His coworkers are shocked at what they hear, hard to believe it’s the same guy, as he expresses a vigorous sense of urgency, easily adopting the tough guy language each situation calls for, something that seemingly only happens in the movies.  Think Humphrey Bogart or Robert Mitchum, where they are smooth talkers who exude masculinity, willing to back up their threats or promises with results.  After a string of arrests, he’s the new police darling, the exact opposite of Jasper’s shortcomings, who’s an embarrassment to the force, while Ron is making them all look good.  Even when Jasper returns, he’s relegated to a supporting role, as Ron is just too good to be true and they don’t want to break his streak.  Jasper, of course, is pissed, and continually looks for an opportunity to undermine him, but Ron is a smooth operator who’s like a chameleon, as he simply transforms himself into whatever’s needed, telling them what they want to hear, talking the same language of his suspects, so relaxed and self-assured, blending perfectly into the scenery of a would-be hit man.  Even the students in his classroom notice the transformation, as he’s suddenly cool and captivating, where his newfound charisma becomes the talk of the school.  

The film goes off the rails when one suspect, a terrified woman caught up in an abusive marriage with an over-controlling husband she wants to escape from, is a former beauty queen, Madison (Adria Arjona), that Ron steers away from making her confession, actually convincing her to change her mind, urging her to leave her husband, to take the money and start a new life, a sympathetic switcheroo that immediately captures the attention of his coworkers, especially Jasper, who finds it such a rookie move, and so unprofessional.  But what stands out is the chemistry between them (“Chivalry may be dead, but I didn't kill it.”), as not long afterwards a steamy relationship ensues between them, which is the way she chooses to celebrate her newfound freedom, veering into the same territory as Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity (1944) or Lawrence Kasdan’s Body Heat (1981), where you keep waiting for the double cross.  Her intoxicating sexuality brings out the best in Ron, as she exudes the femme fatale sexuality in so many crime stories, where she may actually be role-playing herself, while Gary is equally surprised by the sudden machismo coming from Ron, making him do things he wouldn’t ordinarily do, yet both make a convincing couple as things get more complicated and dangerous.  When they accidently run into her ex-husband Ray (Evan Holtzman) on the street, a violent confrontation leads to immediate threats, causing Ron to pull out a gun and stick it in his face, causing him to back off, a move that positively thrills Madison, who claims no one has ever stuck up for her like that before, leading to more bedroom seduction titillation, entering even more murky waters as we go down the road of a film noir landscape.  However, when you look at Gary back in the precinct, he’s just an ordinary guy that could easily be mistaken as an office clerk, where nothing leads you to believe what he does for a living.  This split personality that results from his continued role-playing becomes part of his existential dilemma, amusingly expressed in his ongoing voiceover narration, as he’s trying to figure out who he actually is, wondering which version will prevail.  Pondering his own identity mirrors what he teaches in class, embracing what Jung describes as his “shadow side,” but the wigs, changing accents, and multiple identities he employs add an uncommon element to this film, as we never really know what to expect, with photos of real-world disguises used by Johnson shown over the final credits, making very clear what was made up, taking some surprising turns that he was to twist his way out of, like some mythical labrynthian puzzle.  Mixing crime, romance, and comedy, Linklater, one of the more influential directors of American independent cinema, always has such a keen sense of telling original stories in a touching and humorous way, and seems to be having a blast with this film, a throwback to the feelgood movies that Paul Newman and Robert Redford used to make, where he ends up channeling Frank Capra’s ARSENIC AND OLD LACE (1944), having an infectious quality that is hard not to like, doing what few films can do, blending intelligence with a clever flair for the absurd, told with a comic panache that is a constant delight.     

Medicine for Melancholy

Writer/director Barry Jenkins

MEDICINE FOR MELANCHOLY                         A-                                                              USA  (90 mi)  2008  d: Barry Jenkins   

San Francisco is now developing programs to correct blighted and congested conditions and to deal with an accumulation of housing that is continuously aging and deteriorating faster than it is being rehabilitated or replaced.  The study area contains an estimated 1008 residential structures, many of which are in various degrees of deterioration and are in need of rebuilding or replacement.  More than 50 percent of the structures are past middle age with an estimated average age of sixty-seven years.  It is this condition which results in neighborhood blight and calls for both major public improvement and private rehabilitation and reconstruction.

—Leonard S. Mosias from the San Francisco Redevelopment Agency, Residential Rehabilitation Survey Western Edition Area 2, July 1962 (poster on the wall with giant lettering LIES placed over it)

This American indie film written and directed by a first time black filmmaker bears an astounding similarity in style and tone to Cassavetes’ first film Shadows (1959), made nearly half a century ago simultaneous to the era of the French New Wave, probably considered by now as ancient history.  However the intelligent, free-wheeling, improvisational style and the stellar black and white (with occasional sepia tones) photography by James Laxton reflect the luminous beauty of San Francisco, suggesting a rush of energy that befits any modern age.  But in the intimate manner of Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset  (2004), the centerpiece of the film has to be the extraordinarily naturalistic performances of the two leads, Micah (Wyatt Cenac) and Jo (Tracey Heggins), two young black adults in their 20’s who awkwardly meet the morning after a one-night stand at a party.  Initially having little, if anything, to say to each another, there’s a clever development where they slowly warm to one another, yet much of this is defined by long wordless stretches.  For instance, in a visit to the Museum of the African Dispora (MOAD), they tour the museum over a 5-minute period of screen time without speaking a single word, pausing several times, allowing the exhibit to seamlessly blend into the film, emphasized by long takes and the slow pace of the shots, suggesting we are all connected in ways that are part of an unspeakable past.  As they wander through the city, they also pass by a housing rights committee meeting taking place in a storefront, where the actual housing activists play themselves, reminding voters that politicians, including a longstanding mayor, never speak the words rent control, yet they’re all connected to a brutal history of “Negro removal,” the actual effect of urban renewal, while they’re continuing to push poor people out of the city at an alarming rate, making room for a more upscale class to move in.  Lost in the city’s push for gentrification are many of the things people love most about the city, suggesting the character of the city is changing.  When Micah envisions how “few of us there actually are,” Jo doesn’t really want to have that conversation, choosing to see individuals as individuals first, and not as members of an ethnic group, where the film captures the ebbs and flows of their experience.  A peculiar aspect of the film is how it’s continually seen through a white perspective, despite the central focus on two black characters.  We learn Jo has a wealthy white boyfriend, while Micah’s former girlfriend was white, while both are involved in an independent art and cultural scene dominated by white people, as Jo’s boyfriend is a museum curator, while Micah is connected to San Francisco’s indie music scene that is almost exclusively white, Medicine for Melancholy Soundtrack (13 tracks).  This mirrors the prevailing view of Barry Jenkins as an independent filmmaker, a field dominated by whites.  One of the earliest scenes is watching Micah peer out the large windows, finding himself inside a luxurious house in an affluent white neighborhood.  As they take a cab, they don’t really connect, finding themselves at a loss for words, but she accidentally leaves her wallet, with Micah tracking her down afterwards.  A major question the film asks is whether the end of the film is really the end, or actually a new beginning?  What’s most impressive is the very ease of their dialogue, how believable they are as these two characters, offering a degree of warmth and intelligence rarely seen in television or films, using the city of San Francisco as a backdrop to the film, with Micah openly hating the city while loving the beauty of it, the hills, the fog, suggesting beauty should have nothing to do with privilege, “It just is, and you shouldn’t have to be upper middle class to be a part of that.”

Among the better date movies, this relaxed and low-key film follows the next 24 hours of their lives, condensed to segments that are shot pretty close to real time, that have a relaxed and at times romantic air about them despite the fact she’s already in a relationship, where there isn’t a hint of condescension or artificiality, yet their moods veer all over the place, sometimes hot, sometimes cold.  To its credit, the film doesn’t feature any snarky intelligence of trying to over impress or be too hip, where a first time director might be inclined to overwrite certain scenes, looking for a way to stand out.  Instead the film largely impresses with its sense of restraint and good taste matching the personalities of the characters who show a surprising degree of respect for one another.  Where the film doesn’t go is into the deep emotional terrain, more fertile Cassavetes territory, where gut-wrenching drama (Gena Rowlands) lights up the screen.  These are different kinds of characters who aren’t about to plunge headlong into broken heart territory as they’ve only just met, instead they scratch the surface searching for a variety of interests, pretty much checking each other out all day long, having playful moments together while also taking seriously matters like race, where they both see their identity from completely different vantage points, gentrification, disparities in wealth and displacement of the poor, where he claims blacks comprise only 7% of the city’s population, suggesting she’s probably the only black person living in the Marina district, but also kidding around about music and personal tastes, while also finding time to simply relate together, featuring inventive musical choices throughout.  Taking a walk through the Yerba Buena Gardens, the camera pans and tracks their movement to the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial, entitled Revelation, featuring a large waterfall tucked behind stone blocks for seating, where there is a tunnel walkway behind with photographs and famous quotations, with the film allowing plenty of space for contemplation.  The film literally shatters any conception of a monolithic “black” point of view, as the divergent viewpoints that divide the two of them couldn’t be more pervasive, examining the effects of their unique differences, yet there’s a personal dynamic that continues to pull them together.  Perhaps most surprising is a visit to an all-white indie dance club, as there’s an everchanging sensory experience that each feeds off, continually providing nuance and shades to their cultural and racial consciousness, which seems continuously in flux.  Yet there’s an openness to this film that invites viewer participation and challenge, as the two characters explore hidden corners of the city while also finding themselves in an albeit brief love affair, finding inspiration from the Claire Denis film VENDREDI SOIR (2002), an impressionistic, near wordless film that follows two lovers meeting by chance in a brief encounter that accentuates the present, driven purely by desire, turning into a tone poem of visual texture, exploring the interplay between light and shadow mixed with sound, borrowing a Dickon Hinchliffe musical track Le Rallye from the film, Medicine for Melancholy (2008) - 'This is a one night stand' YouTube (3:55).  But Jenkins adds emotional complexity to his two characters, where romanticism coincides with black identity, dealing very directly with race, with young people having to navigate their way around a social environment heavily shaped by segregation and racism, with the audience sharing in their search for black love, something that’s been growing between them, like a meeting of lost souls.   

Shadowed by cultural, historical, and spacial tensions, one of the earliest after-party scenes shows the two of them walking over a hill to get to a breakfast café in the nearby Noe Valley section of the city, offering panoramic views of the entire city, a view that contrasts mightily with Micah’s miniscule Tenderloin studio apartment, where the bed takes up nearly all the living space.  However, the poster on the wall in his apartment links the film to the politics of urban renewal and gentrification at the heart of James Baldwin’s historic visit to San Francisco in the spring of 1963, producing an obscure, rarely seen historical documentary, Richard O. Moore’s TAKE THIS HAMMER (1964), James Baldwin: TAKE THIS HAMMER: -1963 YouTube (1:03:16), where he angrily exposes the “polished veneer” of San Francisco as a liberal cosmopolitan city, revealing how systematic racism that has long pervaded in this country was also driving and sustaining a deeply segregated city.  Jenkins revisits the same urban terrain, creating an abstract mosaic of black and white, remaining a study of contrasts, framing new questions about cultural experience, extending far beyond simple classifications, yet both remain elusive in the minds of viewers.  The film questions what it means to be black, whether being defined by race is in any way limiting, while the carefully chosen musical soundtrack defies “the black experience,” normally grounded in R & B or hip-hop culture, rooted in the cultural politics of Civil Rights, feeling more like a musical travelogue through the white indie film experience, yet it drives the film, assuming the role of tonal narrator, making this uniquely different.  When one speaks of freedom, the euphoric liberal all-inclusive view contrasts mightily with a black perspective, where freedom always comes with a heavy price.  Still, Jo questions the need for the poster critiquing the redevelopment plans in San Francisco, suggesting that’s not something he’ll easily forget, with Micah believing it’s not so much about forgetting as remembering, feeling the need to remind himself every day as a necessary means of survival, remembering the many communities that have been lost, where his species is slowly becoming extinct.  The conversation flows around the historical relevance of memory, a point not easily articulated, as the black identity is constructed upon the backs of others who came before, where a modern emphasis is on paying homage, though not everyone agrees, as some simply want to live their lives unencumbered by history.  This is not a movie that’s going to blow anyone away with action sequences or escapist entertainment, preferring a more thoughtful approach featuring ideas and energy over action, both high and low, not afraid to leave spaces unfilled, accentuating intimacy and vulnerability, using words, gestures, looks, wit, risk, charm, listening to what the other person says while also accentuating moments where they simply want to let loose, loving every minute of being alive where the loud, pulsating beat drives the film.  Initially released at the South by Southwest Fest, it also played at San Francisco (audience favorite of course) and Philadelphia before playing at Telluride.  Had it played at Sundance, it might have generated the kind of interest BALLAST (2008) and other award winners have, but you never know, since this indie style of filmmaking simply isn't being made much anymore, one of the reasons to truly treasure seeing it.  This is a real diamond in the rough, though, a small film with big ideas and large aspirations, surprisingly heartfelt and relevant, yet always down to earth, placing these characters within the realm of people we know, perhaps even ourselves.