Archive for the ‘ actors ’ Category

Cage-Fest, Day 3: Peggy Sue Got Married

In preparation for — nay, in honor of — the upcoming premier of Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call in New Orleans, directed by Werner Herzog and starring the great performer Nicolas Cage, the Acme Video blog will be running a series of (at least) daily pieces on the entire Cage Oeuvre, with its startling highs and mystifying lows. It is one man’s tale… a chronicle of madness and obsession.

DAY 3: PEGGY SUE GOT MARRIED

The film that ended the professional relationship of Francis Ford Coppola and Nicolas Cage. Cage, who is nephew to Coppola and had worked with him previously on Rumble Fish and The Cotton Club (we’ll be getting to those films later), plays Kathleen Turner‘s main squeeze in this nostalgic, time-traveling, graceless attempt at 50’s-era high school romp. They call these films, “Dramedies,” I think — shorthand for a film that’s too lazy to be funny and too stupid to be dramatic. Maybe this was the beginning of the end for Coppola. Bear in mind, we’re not talking about the director of Apocalypse Now, here; we’re talking about the director of Jack.

That said, the film ended up being a solid box-office success for Coppola, his first since Apocalypse Now. In fact, a lot of people seem to like this movie (rated 88% “Fresh” (?!) on Rotten Tomatoes). Maybe it’s an age thing… But as someone who hadn’t bothered to ever watch this flick until just a few days ago, I can honestly say that this is one of the stupidest, clumsiest, most trite films I’ve ever seen (again, Jack comes to mind). The plot is so cumbersome and poorly constructed you can actually hear it creaking as it stumbles forward.

That is, unless Nic Cage is on the screen. Cast in the kind of role and in the kind of movie that normally would have called for a cocky, masculine performance, Cage instead distills his character into a supremely dopey Ken-doll with a pinched, hyper-nasal speaking voice. Cage has since admitted that he based the voice on that of Pokey from the Gumby Show; numerous accounts from the production claim that Coppola was extremely unhappy with the voice and wanted Cage out of the film completely. Somehow, Cage was able to convince him that the voice would work and he should be allowed to stay on. And apart from bringing a much-needed dose of sarcasm to a film that gags on its own earnestness, there’s a zany energy to Cage’s performance that does far greater justice to the spirit of youth than any of the other campy, ebullient turns by the film’s obviously over-age cast. He’s the only one who lets the audience in on the fun; the only one who seems to understand that if you really want to act like teenager, you have to act like a teenager.

This clip is kind of long; skip to 2:50 if you want to go straight to Cage.

Cage-Fest, Day 2

In preparation for — nay, in honor of — the upcoming premier of Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call in New Orleans, directed by Werner Herzog and starring the great performer Nicolas Cage, the Acme Video blog will be running a series of (at least) daily pieces on the entire Cage Oeuvre, with its startling highs and mystifying lows. It is one man’s tale… a chronicle of madness and obsession.

(So, there’s not gonna be any order to this thing. My only goal is to see them all. And to try and space out the good ones, so that I don’t have to watch, like, six Cage/Bruckheimer movies in a row. Any and all are encouraged to chime in in the comment section with thoughts, recommendations, dissenting opinions, etc. Today you get two stinkers for the price of one. Ever onward…)

DAY 2: MATCHSTICK MEN + BANGKOK DANGEROUS

I’ll ignore, for now, the question of what in God’s name has happened to Ridley Scott. But what a stiff, joyless film this is. Seriously, everybody was on autopilot for this one. None worse than Cage, who looks in this film like someone completely devoid of the joie de vivre that defines his best performances. Playing an obsessive-compulsive con-man, Cage’s character is nothing more than a collection of tics, twitches, and stutters; he over-acts his character’s quirks rather than give us anything of substance. There isn’t a single moment where he seems to be having any fun at all, which is the least he could’ve brought to a slick caper-film of this kind. Utterly forgettable.

Exhibit B is blockbuster Cage. Or at least, attempted blockbuster — this baby flopped at the box office (supposedly Cage’s own production company, Saturn Films, fronted most of the cost). There is very nearly no reason at all to see this film, though it is necessary viewing, for my purposes. He’s an assassin in Bangkok, lives only for himself, loves no one, will kill anyone and everyone who gets in his way, yadda yadda yadda. But dig his deaf-mute girlfriend, whom he primarily communicates with via pained facial expressions. This is Cage’s bread and butter — he’s a clown without makeup. None of these scenes were intended for comic relief, but… you take what you can get.

As we work our way through Cage-Fest together, I want you all to keep an eye out for some recurrent symbols in Cage’s work. There are a couple in particular that I’m interested in, but I’m still formulating my theories and I can’t say much as yet. But I’ll give you all a couple clues.

Clue #1: Cage’s hair. Be especially mindful of the style, and the direction in which it’s combed.

Clue #2: There are two Cages.

See you tomorrow.

CAGE-FEST!

nickcagecrazyeyesIn preparation for — nay, in honor of — the upcoming premier of Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call in New Orleans, directed by Werner Herzog and starring the great performer Nicolas Cage, the Acme Video blog will be running a series of (at least) daily pieces on the entire Cage Oeuvre, with its startling highs and mystifying lows. It is one man’s tale… a chronicle of madness and obsession.

DAY 1: VAMPIRE’S KISS

I begin with Vampire’s Kiss because, for the uninitiated, for the non-believers, for the haters and the nay-sayers, there is probably no better single testament to Nick Cage’s truly unique, entirely reckless, batshit-crazy brand of “acting.”  This is Cage’s Last Tango In Paris. His Aguirre, Wrath of God. His Silence Of The Lambs. If you crossed Marlon Brando, Klaus Kinski, and Hannibal Lecter you would end up with something close to Peter Loew, Cage’s utterly psychotic method-acting transformation from depressed-skirt-chasing-1980’s-literary-agent to control-freak-vampire-maniac-rapist.

One is tempted to use the phrase “a descent into madness,” but Vampire’s Kiss is more like a private tour of every wing of the nut-house. Loew is mad even at the film’s outset — a spastic, giggling, sexually-charged playboy, with women and money to burn and an awesomely Gothic Manhattan apartment. Cage adopted a strange, high-falutin, vaguely English accent for part, which comes and goes depending on his mood (and in one of several phenomenal scenes with his shrink, it actually becomes contagious; see the clip below). It’s just one of several crazy-as-a-fox decisions Cage makes, choices that would have been disastrous for a lesser actor — or at least one with smaller cajones. The fun really gets started once Loew gets his first vampire bite and begins his fitful, wildly uneven mutation into a blood-starved creature of the night. A fun enough premise in its own right, but both the film — and primarily, Cage — take so many stylistic left-turns that it’s not long before you’re feeling just as lost and desperate as Loew, wandering through Robert Bierman‘s fantastically cheerless Manhattan. Vampire’s Kiss then becomes a truly Kafkaesque fracturing of the Cage psyche. Donning a pair of old-person driving sunglasses, Cage’s movements become decidedly bat-like, as he leaps and flits around his office, screaming and twitching at his lowly assistant because of some completely insignificant file that’s gone missing. Much of the film is devoted to the manic-depressive head games Loew plays on this poor young woman (a perfectly mousy Maria Conchita Alonso) who fears — rightly — for her safety. Cage’s performance is truly one of the moodiest I’ve ever seen, and I mean that in the best possible sense: you can’t look away, and you never know what’s next. Few actors have ever mixed horror and comedy this well.

He eats a cockroach, people (in fact he ate three, one for each take). Gobbles it up. The final scene is an insane Cage-vs.-Cage riff, basically like watching a psychopath simultaneously prosecute and defend himself in a court of law. You MUST see this film.

Impossible to pick just one scene, but yeah… this one rules.

Steven Soderbergh, Meet Sasha Grey

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Steven Soderbergh would seem to have walked a pretty short, straight line from Sex, Lies, And Videotape – released way back when in 1989 — to The Girlfriend Experience. He has, once again, made a film which at first blush would seem to be explicitly about sex but which, viewers will find, shows nothing of the kind on screen. There is, of course, a great deal of talk on the subject, and The Girlfriend Experience being what it is, that talk is something slightly more explicit than in Sex, Lies… For those unfamiliar, The Girlfriend Experience stars Sasha Grey, who made a name for herself initially in hardcore-pornography, while name-dropping Jean-Luc Godard in interviews and displaying a penchant for masochism in her movies. In this film she plays an ultra-high-class call-girl, providing “the complete girlfriend experience” for her über-rich financial-district clients. And in typical Soderbergh style, the film is superbly edited, expertly shot, lushly colored… and colder than a witch tit. But mercifully, the casting of Grey turns about to be less a marketer’s wet-dream than an inspired, essential choice. She gives a surprising warmth to a role that doesn’t present too many obvious opportunities for drama or sentiment. And Soderbergh, who more often than not has struck me as kind of a wuss as a filmmaker, generally seems to have the good sense to stick with his star and the natural energy she carries with her. My biggest gripe would be that Soderbergh spends too much time with the various Wall Street meat-heads who are supposed have had their realities all shaken up by the “Great Recession.” Who the fuck cares? Some of this stuff will seem really dated in just a year’s time.

Kind of a bummer that this guy is what passes for a rebel in Hollywood these days, but I digress… The film is worth seeing, and Ms. Grey might just turn out to be the real deal. Whatever that is.

The Loveless

the lovelessdafoeFor the past couple weeks I’ve been slowly working my way through the work of director Kathryn Bigelow, whose latest film, The Hurt Locker, has been garnering major praise (I haven’t seen it myself). To be honest, her work left me fairly underwhelmed, but it wasn’t for lack of variety; she’s definitely not a director who works exclusively in just one or two genres. Have a look around Acme and see for yourself: she has a film each in Horror, Sci-Fi, Indy, War, and Juvee, plus three more in thriller (those three are easily the worst of the bunch: Blue Steel is Jamie Lee Curtis doing the female cop thing, with a god-awful Ron Silver as her crazed lover/nemesis; K-19: The Widowmaker is Harrison Ford doing his best Russian accent in the face of one of the most expensive independent films ever made — over $100 million, of which it failed to recoup even half; and then there’s Point Break, which needs no synopsis). All that being said, y’all should really check out her first feature-length, The Loveless.

This was Willem Dafoe’s first film, playing the young leader of a biker gang on their way to Daytona who get waylaid in a small, Podunk southern town. I haven’t seen too many films — especially low-budget, independent films — that have gotten the ’50s biker-flick look so right, and Bigelow deserves major credit for that. The bikes, the cars, the costumes and the sets — everything looks exactly as it should, and it’s all topped off with a totally kickass rockabilly score with original stuff from Robert Gordon and John Lurie. But this isn’t just your typical biker-gang-wreaks-havoc flick, as Bigelow punctuates the film with all manner of disconcerting images: from the boredom and malaise on the faces of the local help, to the vaguely-illegal oil business run by town’s antagonistic alpha-male, to the punchy, nervous atmosphere of the bar in the film’s final scene. Working with just a few set pieces, the photography is thoughtful and consistently original, and Bigelow does a wonderful job of insinuating a great deal about the pain of characters’ lives without beating you over the head with any of it. Dafoe’s performance is the real stunner — and even more so given his age and inexperience. Watching him, it’s hard not to draw comparisons to Brando’s early stuff, as he plays the role with a remarkable softness that belies the intensity of his character. Young ‘uns only familiar with the man from his Spiderman role would do well to seek this one out.

The DQ

One of my all-time favorite cinematic moments.

Gran Torino – Clint’s Ode To A Changing America

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The Ford Gran Torino was among the last American muscle cars produced in the 1971-1975 decline of Detroit factory performance cars. From about 1957-1970, American companies designed and built many particularly beautiful and fast cars. Corvette, Mustang, GTO, Challenger, AMX, Camaro, Firebird, Barracuda, to name a few. Originally conceived for racing purposes, these cars were later developed for street use, and were marketed specifically to the young using very powerful advertising tools like movies,television and magazines. The resulting street culture was dangerous and short lived in some ways, but today is a huge subculture involving young and old alike. Restoring, showing and collecting these cars is now the industry, kept alive by enthusiasts who undoubtedly feel these cars represent who they are or want to be.

1970 marked a definite shift away from the pursuit of faster and more outrageous cars for street purposes. Safety issues and manufacturing costs played a part, but mostly the new decade was shaping up to be hard economically for America. The country plunged into a record recession caused mainly by the reckless Vietnam War. Sound familiar? After 1973 there were shortages of fuel due to upheaval in the global oil industry and soon the focus was on energy efficiency. U.S. companies persisted in the marketing of muscle though, but increasingly failed in both design and execution. The 1972 Gran Torino is a perfect example. It was an ugly, terrible car by most muscle car standards. Now, though, in an age when cars are SO boring, the car of the movie may have some retro appeal, but it is the symbolic nature of this particular beast in the 2008 Clint Eastwood masterpiece Gran Torino that is more powerful.

The name Gran Torino comes from the Italian city of Turin, or Torino. It is the capital of the Italian automobile industry, headquarters for Fiat, Alfa Romeo and Lancia, just as Detroit has been the home of the big three American companies Ford, GM and Chrysler. The car was actually more of a standard level of automobile, a replacement in name and design for the mid-level Fairlane line that Ford had. Like they had for about a decade, the companies would offer a performance model at the high end of their lines with special engines and added sport features. These were always limited production cars, the most costly, and supposedly the best the companies had to offer. In 1972, Ford putting a big V-8 and some stripes and mags on a bloated family car and calling it Gran Torino was a lame attempt at preserving muscle car prestige. It signaled the end of an era and the tough times that lay ahead.

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It is an interesting choice of car and title for a film about a bitter man near the end of his life, struggling with the scars of his past and his relationship with the world around him. Clint’s character Walt Kowalski is one of the last of an old breed in a relentlessly changing world. He is a retired Detroit auto worker and Korean War veteran. A widower, he sits alone and stares with hatred at the world around him, especially his neighbors next door, a family of Hmong. His view of them is shaped by his past, the enemies he fought and killed in Korea. To him they are just more “gooks” and he’s bitter that his neighborhood has gone to shit and he blames them. When a gang tries to recruit the young boy next door, Kowalski will be drawn into their lives and be called to action, unwillingly at first. Through helping to boy and his family, he comes to know them and realizes that he has much to give, including the symbol of his youth.

He’s had the Gran Torino in his garage since it rolled off the line in 1972, and it has a special significance for him because among other things he actually worked on the assembly of the car. To him it’s a mean green street machine, an expression of his character that he preserved and cared for, a reminder of how things used to be in his life. This film is an ode to that past, and to ours as Americans, and a sort of poem to deal with the last century as we move into the next.

From about 1972 to present we have witnessed the downhill slide of the American auto industry as international competition (specifically Japan’s Big Three – Honda, Toyota and Nissan) took hold of the market with better and more efficient products. Most recently, to the amazement of American consumers and auto workers alike, it’s as if the U.S. industry has finally gone careening like a giant idiotic boulder down a huge mountainside with no brakes and certainly no will to reverse course. General Motors, once the world-dominating auto company, has just gone out of business, leaving its employees marooned. Chrysler and Ford may soon follow. Failure to make better products and to embrace new technologies is to blame, as is most certainly collusion with the oil industry. We are seeing the total collapse of an industry through reluctance to move in a responsible, forward-thinking way.  Since seeing this film at a snowy winter midnight screening, it has resonated more and more to me as a timely and poignant powerhouse of a movie.

It should be said that I have been a fan of Clint Eastwood the actor all my life, even in the cheesy films like Every Which Way But Loose (“Right turn, Clyde!….”) and the weaker recent ones like Bloodwork. I guess I’ll watch him in anything. He’s always been a favorite action hero. More recently, specifically since Unforgiven, I have watched all of his directorial films and witnessed a great progression and range of material. Starting in 1971, using skills he learned from director Don Siegel over the course of making five films together, he began directing on his own. Play Misty For Me is a powerful little thriller made on a small budget and no paycheck for Clint. It was a fairly successful start and is a real favorite of mine since I first saw it on a TV rerun in 1976. Since then, he’s directed great Westerns like Pale Rider and Unforgiven, excellent period dramas like Bird, a film about Charlie Parker, and The Bridges of Madison County, as well as top notch hits like Mystic River and Million Dollar Baby. In 2008 he had two films completed – Changeling, an underrated and chilling period thriller, and Gran Torino, a film that could be a capstone. He has hinted in recent interviews that it may be his last role as an actor. I hope not, but if that is true, he’s ended a long career triumphantly.

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The screenplay was written by Nick Schenk, surprisingly not a Hollywood insider but rather a first-timer who wrote the story sitting in a bar with friends in Minneapolis. Supposedly, material for the story developed over many years, from encounters with veterans he’d met on different jobs and Hmong people he worked with during a stint at a VHS factory in Bloomington, Minnesota. A blue collar guy, Schenk was interested in the plight of war vets and factory workers, but learning about the Hmong propelled the story in a new direction. The story of the mountain people of Laos, displaced during the Vietnam war and migrating from refugee camps in Thailand to the U.S. impressed him, and those he met revealed to him the fact of many Hmong who were recruited and fought alongside U.S. soldiers against the North Vietnamese. Details of their cultural traditions and family life also became known, and he came up with the scenario of Kowalski being drawn out of his isolation and prejudice through helping this family next door. The boy and his sister face tough problems, and Kowalski is the guy righting wrongs all through the story, both for them and himself.

When Clint got the screenplay, he decided to produce and direct it without any changes but for location. It would be set and shot in Michigan instead of Minnesota as Schenk intended. The story of Kowalski’s transcendence from hate for the world and his neighbors to redemption is classic and compelling, and watching Clint as Kowalski, it’s as if he’s infused all the best from his past roles to make this one indelible. It’s as personal as it gets in many ways, carrying a weighty message about ways of dealing with problems, understanding and sharing. By meeting his challenge and taking responsibility Kowalski is redeemed, in the process presenting a more realistic kind of hero, with more depth and certainly more human. It’s all there, some humor included, but this time the Dirty Harry style violent revenge is cleverly reworked so that Kowalski can make the ultimate sacrifice for people he once mistook for old enemies.

As the credits roll, Clint can be heard singing his ode Gran Torino, a gravelly, ghostly voice from beyond. It’s the final signature on the film, and while it’s sad, there is a feeling you get that as bad as things can be, life in this world is what you make of it. Time will march on, changes will happen, and if there’s a good reason to look at the past, it’s to guide us into the future and not live with old mistakes.

Speaking of Mitchum – Get out your VCR

farewell_my_lovelyAs mentioned in my piece on The Friends of Eddie Coyle, Robert Mitchum was in another noir in 1975 called Farewell, My Lovely. So far no DVD release has come for this overlooked film from the cycle of 70’s noirs.  It’s a color film version of the Raymond Chandler potboiler, set in 1941 L.A.  Mitchum plays private eye Philip Marlowe, of course, but the supporting cast is excellent also, including Harry Dean Stanton, Charlotte Rampling and Sylvia Miles.

Directed by Dick Richards, a former Life photographer, the film is an updating to 70’s realism of an old story from the days of the dark, sinister dream-world noir style. The period L.A. of this film stands out much more than it would in earlier films, and feels much more lifelike. The noir lighting style is employed, but here in dazzling reds and shadows of all colors, for the first time you get a sense of things as they looked for real. Neon signs jump out of the night, and sidewalks are washed in color. Broad daylight is, well, broad daylight. Refreshing.

Polanski‘s Chinatown, Altman‘s Long Goodbye, Penn‘s Night Moves, Kulik‘s Shamus and Benton‘s Late Show are the other stand-out films of the 70’s that revisit the 40’s private eye film and reinterpret it for their own time. The 40’s paranoia becomes 70’s cynicism and the made in studio picture becomes a location feature. All are very successful and worthwhile films, but Farewell is somehow the most perfect balance of style and revision, and is made more poignant by the presence of the aging Mitchum, who seems  a more world-weary version of Marlowe than he would as a younger man.

big sleep picHe also appears as Marlowe in Michael Winner‘s 1978 The Big Sleep, an all-too-flawed remake of the nearly perfect 1945 Howard Hawks film of the same name with Bogie and Bacall. Winner’s film is mostly forgettable but for Mitchum, who tries his best but is undone by the director’s ineptitude and the film’s overdone approach to updating, so far as to set the film in England with an overly-jazzy score. Worth mentioning on this subject of The Big Sleep, the 1973 Buzz Kulik film Shamus, starring Burt Reynolds as private eye Shamus McCoy, has a great homage to the Hawks original. It’s a replay of the scene where Bogart stakes out the shop across the way and “whiles” away the afternoon with a nice young lady and a pocket bottle of rye, except no whiskey and much more sleazy talk. Really fun.

Both Mitchum films are in the non-DVD limboland, but Acme Video, the only place that cares, has them available for you to watch on cassette, so dust off your VCR.

The Sublime Weirdness of David Carradine: A Retrospective

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Reports from Bangkok, Thailand, June 3, 2009 announced that David Carradine, beloved star of Kung Fu and most recently Kill Bill 1 & 2 was found dead. The circumstances are yet to be revealed, but it was said at first that it was possibly suicide, as he was found hanged in his hotel room. Rumors also have it that possibly it may have involved some type of auto-erotic activity. More on that as it develops. Weird maybe, but somehow I was not shocked. The strange death of an actor who was great at strange, an always enigmatic yet thought-provoking and somehow very real guy.

His iconic wandering character Caine on Kung Fu, is a great and well-known example. Best described by Sam Jackson in Quentin Tarantino‘s Pulp Fiction, Caine “just walked the earth- havin’ adventures ‘an shit”. As a boy Caine, a white orphan, trained as a Shaolin monk and learned the art of Kung Fu. On the show he was a foreigner alone and wandering the wild west of yesteryear and having encounters which often required him to defend himself with his awesome skills. It was a character he totally inhabited. It wasn’t him being extreme, but rather natural,to the consternation of many of the show’s producers. According to Brandon Cruz, formerly a child actor on the show, he would show up to the set in a cloud of dust driving his beat up Studebaker, in wardrobe, mostly his own clothes, in character and barefoot. Cupping a joint, he’d look around and say,”OK, what are we doing?” For three seasons, this was Carradine’s main job in acting, a grueling run which wore him out and eventually led to the ending of the show when he quit. He was a big but reluctant TV star by then. If you grew up in the 70’s like me, you saw Kung Fu on prime time from 1972-1975. It was a sensational show, beautifully shot and with exaggerated slow-motion martial arts action sequences. There were many guest appearances on the show by familiar actors like John Saxon and William Shatner, and some just starting out like little Jodie Foster in a particularly memorable episode. Topps even put out trading cards of the show and then parodied those with the Wacky Packages line of cards, hugely a part of pop culture at that time. Kids often had the Kung Fu lunchbox with Carradine on the lid. Young and old, people loved the show and the character.

David Carradine GrasshopperThe show reflected the 70’s craze for Zen and the mystical/spiritual nature of things. Keep in mind that people were generally unfamiliar with Asian culture. It was just the beginning of a long exploration. A breakthrough, really, considering the long history of wartime hostilities with various Asian nations. In typical TV fashion of the times, Carradine played an ethnically Chinese character but was Caucasian. Many ethnic actors were considered and turned down, even Bruce Lee. It was a wise choice in the long run to cast Carradine, as the challenge brought out his true talent. His unorthodox methods and the subtleties of his face and physique enabled him to pull it off in a fantastic way. Initially there was resistance from Asian cast members, but David’s personality and ability came to the fore and people realized it was a hit show. The producers and designers also paid much attention to getting the most authentic details down. The rest is history. The door was opened for a flood of martial arts genre material to be produced and shown to American audiences, and now the genre is firmly a part of mainstream film culture.

Over the years, I’ve been struck by several of his other more offbeat portrayals, especially brief cameos. In Robert Altman‘s 1973 film The Long Goodbye, an updated noir with Elliot Gould as a wisecracking 1970’s Phillip Marlowe, Carradine shows up as a fellow jailbird when Marlowe is brought in by the cops. Carradine plays a guy apparently jailed for dope possession. He rambles on in ad-lib fashion,”You know, they don’t have murderers and rapists in here anymore. You know what they got in here? People who smoke marijuana. They’ve got people in here for possession…..possession of noses…. gonads…. possession of …life. It’s a weird world….someday all the pigs will be in here and all the people are gonna be out there.” To which Marlowe responds,” You can bet on that. Just remember Dave, you’re not in here- it’s just your body. See ya when you get out.”

Previous to this turn, he’s in Martin Scorsese‘s first studio film as a director, Boxcar Bertha. The film, produced by Roger Corman, and as such a quickie low budget special, was a depression-era story of Bertha Thompson, a true-life wanderer and ne’er do well and Big Bill Shelly, a union organizer, who become outlaws together. It was another entry into the new genre opened up by the success of Bonnie and Clyde of depression crime stories, except the Corman touch meant exploitative sex and violence for the drive-in crowd. Carradine and Barbara Hershey, real-life lovers during this time, turn in performances that not only float this movie but make it more memorable than it would have been for sure. Added was the the capable and already interesting camera work and direction of Scorsese. (John Cassavetes, when Scorsese showed him the film, told Martin never to do a project like that again, that he was too talented and should do films of things that were important to him). The character of Bill meets a weird end, being crucified Christ-like to the side of a boxcar and sent hurdling down the tracks, an example for all to see. On the one hand, a message to all who would “talk union talk”, or be on the wrong side of the law. On the other, a Scorsese Christ-image for the audience to consider, a wider message about us as humans and how we treat each other. Carradine portrays each facet of Bill earnestly, as if he again inhabits the character. He seems natural even through the bizarre conclusion. More on killing Bill later.

Right after this film, Carradine again worked with Scorsese, this time a small and strange role in Mean Streets, a violent film of small-time gangsters in 1970’s Little Italy New York. It is Scorsese’s first personal feature length film. In it, Carradine is a drunk in a shirt and tie at the bar where the main characters, Charlie and Johnny Boy, played by Harvey Keitel and Robert De Niro, hang out. After pulling himself off his barstool and hoisting himself onto the bartop, writhing and mumbling incoherently, he gets down and weaves his way toward the Men’s room, overturning chairs as he goes. The object of scorn by the main wise guys, he is referred to as something out of Season of the Witch (an in-joke referring to the original title of Mean Streets). Then Scorsese cuts to Carradine slumped over a urinal trying to remain upright. A long-haired assassin enters and shoots him three times in the back. Does he simply die? No, he lunges for the guy, out of the men’s room, back out into the bar, smashing things and struggling to choke his assassin. He gets dragged further, then blasted again, this time from the front, and winds up in a heap outside the bar and exhales his last just before the bar sign and jukebox are extinguished as a foil for the soon-to-arrive cops.  With barely a line, Carradine is again an enigmatic presence. We’ll never know why he’s killed or who he is even, but it’s for sure that this sort of thing is a regular if bizarre ocurrence in the Mean Streets part of town. Why Carradine? It’s obvious- he just IS that guy on screen. When you need an enigma, you call on one.

After the success of Kung Fu and the aforementioned notable roles, he seems to have disappeared into sub-mediocrity with several schlock films including the always entertaining Death Race 2000 . A futuristic road warrior named Frankenstein, he battles his nemesis Machine Gun Joe (Sylvester Stallone). A companion movie followed later, called Deathsport, in which Carradine plays Kaz, this time a Desert Ranger 1000 years into the future, battling enemies on his Deathcycle. An added attraction in the Corman formula here is Playboy bunny/actress Claudia Jennings. These have to be seen to be believed, and are mentioned here for those who may need a good trashy double feature for some delirious 2 a.m. viewing sometime.

The most major role of his career at this point came when Tim Buckley, Hal Ashby‘s first choice to play Woody Guthrie in his film Bound For Glory died, leaving the role available. Again cast as second choice, he showed up owning his character and the film is a true gem, although not totally a straight biopic of Guthrie but more of a trip through a few of the the depression years with David Carradine as Woody. The film was nominated for Academy Awards, but faced stiff competition that year from Taxi Driver, All The President’s Men, Network and Rocky, which took Best Picture. Director Hal Ashby would return later with a nomination for Coming Home in 1978, but would lose to The Deer Hunter. Carradine would be overlooked, but would continue in film for years.

In 1977, he worked with the great Swedish director Ingmar Bergman in The Serpent’s Egg, in which he plays Abel Rosenberg, a trapeze artist in 1923 Berlin. It was a big budget Bergman film in which the director was re-creating the atmospheric German cinema of the 20’s. A dark and psychological thriller, also very lavish and Cabaret-like, it was very involved, and was a different experience both for the director and his actors. The large sets and vast numbers of extras were challenging for Bergman, used to smaller productions which focused on characters.

Interviewed for the DVD release of the film, Carradine reflected positively on his performance and working with Bergman to a degree. He seemed to think the director wanted his outer mystique more than inner complexity, which worked pretty well for the type of film it was. He really was awed by working with Liv Ullmann, who remarked that David was somewhat out of his element working with Bergman. The film stands as a solid part of the Bergman works, and did very well financially. Carradine looked at it as his most artistic film experience up to that point although it got him no further in the Hollywood scene. He quotes a conversation he had with the iconoclastic director Alejandro Jodorowsky (El Topo, Holy Mountain, Santa Sangre) in which he says, “David, sometimes you need to choose between power and….eternity.” As an actor, Carradine felt that power was less important, and the eternal nature of a character was the essence of his art.

When Bruce Lee died suddenly in 1973, he left more than a few loose ends. In the late 60’s he was talking to James Coburn (just one of his celebrity martial arts students) about a story idea for a movie called The Silent Flute. Bruce would play the character of a master who guides and inspires a young unorthodox fighter who would be challenged three times on his quest to attain the Book of All Knowledge. The flute of the Master could only be heard by the one facing the trials, hence the title. Coburn was on board for a part and as a producer, but the film was slightly ahead of its time and could not get backing despite some inside track connections through Coburn. Just before his death, Coburn had been working to get the film green lit, and called Lee in Hong Kong to give him good news when it finally looked good. Lee, a huge star by then, told him, “You can’t afford me now”. The film was put in limbo.

A few years later, rights to the story were acquired by director Richard Moore and writer Sterling Siliphant, who won an Academy award for his script for In The Heat of The Night. Carradine was summoned and expressed a big interest right away, and they began to flesh it out. Carradine would play four roles in the picture –  the Flute-playing Master, the Monkey-Man, Zetan, or the possessor of the Book, and Death. The film was shot on amazing locations in Israel’s mountains and deserts. The Silent Flute, or Circle Of Iron as it was called upon release finally in 1978, is a classic. Despite some flaws in casting and the obvious lack of Bruce Lee, whose action scenes one can only imagine would have been better, Carradine felt that it was his best and very favorite film and it does have a mystical side which stands out and makes the film retain much of the original intention. He actually grew, harvested, and carved the bamboo which became the Silent Flute of the picture. Some memorable lines include, “One year ago I took a vow of silence.” “When did you break it?” “Now. Why are you following me?” And, “A fish saved my life once.” “How?” “I ate him.”  It is a must see film of Carradine’s and is also referenced later in Tarantino’s Kill Bill 1 & 2

The 80’s brought about a few bright spots in his career, more notably his role in The Long Riders (1980), a return to westerns for him, in which he plays Cole Younger, eldest of the three Youngers that rode with Jesse James. The film is a solid western directed by Walter Hill, and all three Carradine brothers and both Keach brothers, both Quaids and both Guests are also in it. It’s familiar territory for Carradine, who began his acting career with small roles in many westerns and western themed TV shows (Wagon Train, The Virginian, Gunsmoke). The highlights include Carradine fighting yet another foe, a knife fight at arms length, measured by a piece of cloth clenched in the teeth of both fighters.

Q-The Winged Serpent, a Larry Cohen film (much more on him later on this blog), came out in 1982, in which Carradine plays a New York detective. This time, he is the straight man (as much as he can be), but in un-typical fashion for this type of monster movie, the cop investigates the true nature of what he’s dealing with- a huge flying serpent from Aztec legend living in a nest atop the Chrysler building. Q swoops down and munches on the unsuspecting New Yorkers and various topless sunbathers. The fact of Carradine doing this film shows his ability to embrace the weirdness and jump in there and give it all he’s got. He fits in as a perfect presence in this, one of the essential Larry Cohen horror movies and one of the great cult movies ever.

In 1983, Carradine finished his one and only film as director, Americana. It was begun in 1973 and financed with his own money, and took the full ten years to complete. He plays the central character, a Vietnam vet returning home to a small town in Kansas. Like the Caine character, he is quiet and mysterious, and goes about fixing up an old carousel while suffering much resistance and scorn from the townspeople. It is a huge and somewhat heavy metaphor for his life. Carradine is really hitting a stride with this character, even if the film is flawed and out of time. If only the film could have come out in 1973, it would have found its audience. By 1983, Reagan was in the White House (wow, John Fogerty was right…) and Vietnam was being rehashed and rewritten over and over with very mixed results. Americana was never given a chance to screen widely but stands out now a solid entry into the existential cinema of the 70’s that was more authentic and represented a independent voice. Seeing this film is very difficult due to scarcity of tape releases and a very poor dvd release long out of print. Thanks to Rhino though, for caring enough to put that dvd out. Hopefully some responsible film person will get the rights to this and fix it up for a posthumous new release.

The rest of the decade was certainly busy for Carradine, mostly TV material, including the North and  South civil war mini-series, and Kung Fu The Movie, a return to the Caine character. Into the ’90’s he worked constantly, but had mostly minor roles, many forgettable. In 1992, he made an appearance in a great little-known film called Roadside Prophets. It was a road movie starring John Doe of the band X and Ad-Rock, or Adam Horovitz of the Beastie Boys. The two were wanderers on the road to El Dorado, in this case a casino in Nevada, riding motorcycles across country and encountering various prophetic weirdos and truth tellers along the way. Of course, they come to a clearing looking for a place to stay, and there is David Carradine, or Othello Jones, sitting on the porch of his trailer in a tux singin’ a lil’ ditty. They partake of the hash pipe and sit down to a fancy dinner and discuss the sixties, Nixon, Reagan and Roman gladiators. It’s a great sidebar in a mystical road adventure, once again propelled into the sublime by Carradine.

The 90’s also brought about yet another re-hash of Kung Fu, called The Legend Continues. From 1993 to 1997 the show ran, and featured an updating for the ’90’s as Caine’s son Peter is introduced, a big city cop joined by Caine fighting off crime and evil. Fight sequences were the focus for the newer audience, rather than the earlier philosophizing. It is certainly entertaining, but Carradine seems past it at times, and perhaps is starting to show his age.

Although he kept busy with constant TV and minor film stuff into the new century, most of it was obscure and it looked as if he would fade away finally. And then….Warren Beatty, Quentin Tarantino’s first choice to be this Bill character in his new Grindhouse ode to Hong Kong martial arts pictures, seemed not to “get” what the movie was about. He was “fired”, or let go from negotiations. Meanwhile, Carradine had heard about this project and wanted to do it, but was out of the loop. He packed up and headed back to town from his horse ranch and “showed up” wherever Tarantino would be. First at the premiere of Jackie Brown, which revived the careers of both Pam Grier and Robert Forster, and then several other events where Tarantino could be engaged in film talk. At the moment of he and Beatty’s bust, Quentin’s light bulb went off, and he decided that Carradine would make so much more sense as Bill, and having told Carradine they would work together, he knew it would be a go. Kill Bill Parts 1 & 2 was ON.

billandbbAt 67 years old and a bit out of shape, Carradine worked out and got himself into the role. He was excited, invigorated. He dusted off the Silent Flute and got a Hanzo sword.  His actual appearance in the film doesn’t happen until part 2, but when he makes the scene, it’s typical Tarantino, where everything old becomes new again. In a black and white scene, Carradine is sitting on the porch of an adobe chapel in the middle of a forsaken dusty place outside of El Paso, playing….THE Flute. Inside, Uma Thurman, playing Beatrix Kiddo, a.k.a. Black Mamba, is about to get married after quitting the gang. She comes out upon hearing the tune, and asks why he’s there. Bill, in black, is there to kill her. It is a stunning moment on screen and off, as those familiar with Carradine’s connection to this material realize he’s back, and this time it’s gonna be BAD!

The iconic image of Bill from this film would be the most successful thing he would ever do on screen. Off screen, he’d appear in similar garb to Bill from the movie, as if he’d found the image so very comfortable, or was it that Bill was not so far off from the man? He even worked the bad-boy image for a while, appearing drunk in public at a screening of Bound for Glory during which he made quite a nuisance of himself. Although he worked as constantly as before following the Tarantino show, Carradine remained ever-enigmatic, with long grey hair and his shrunken-head complexion and bulging eyes. One of his very last screen appearances was no surprise, a character confined to a wheelchair in an episode of  the medical TV-drama Mental. A clip of this strange performance is included here. In Thailand, he was working on a French action film eerily titled “Stretch“. No clips of this are as yet available, but perhaps down the line we will get to see the final performance of this figure who will be missed but remembered always for his portrayals that inspire us to think, or at least scratch our heads and wonder.

sons of lee marvin

lee-marvinThere purportedly exists a “secret” society, founded by the filmmaker Jim Jarmusch, called The Sons Of Lee Marvin. Rumors abound as to the club’s official roster and raison d’être. Tom Waits and John Lurie (who currently grace this site’s header) are widely believed to be members, along with (possibly) Nick Cave, Iggy Pop, Thurston Moore, Josh Brolin and Neil Young. The sole criterion for admission is said to be that one must bear some kind of physical resemblance to the actor Lee Marvin himself. For my money, the resemblance is fairly strong for all of the above names, but do a Google image search and judge for yourself.

Of course, several of the club’s members have a professional history with Jarmusch, which can’t have hurt the case for their candidacy. Both John Lurie and Tom Waits have worked on several of Jarmusch’s films, including Stranger Than Paradise (Lurie), Down By Law (Lurie and Waits), Mystery Train (Waits), Night On Earth (Waits), Coffee And Cigarettes (Waits). And Waits acted opposite Iggy Pop in one of Coffee And Cigarettes‘s better segments, (Pop also has an awesomely fucked-up, flippant, cross-dressing turn in Jarmusch’s masterpiece, Dead Man (which Neil Young scored)). Jarmusch’s Year Of The Horse documentary on Neil & Crazy Horse is pretty great, too. Where Nick Cave, Thurston Moore and Josh Brolin fit in to this web isn’t immediately clear, though each of them is certainly familiar with the film industry.

For his part, Marvin acted in dozens of movies and TV shows throughout his career, Gorky Park, Prime Cut and Cat Ballou (for which he won an Oscar) among them. Come by the store and ask Ralph if he can recommend some others.