Glengarry Glen Ross

Glengarry Glen Ross

1992

Director: James Foley

Starring: Jack Lemmon, Al Pacino, Kevin Spacey, Ed Harris, Alan Arkin, Jonathan Pryce

Oh, David Mamet.  Mamet brings to mind certain things for me.  Words, and lots of them.  But certain words, repeated over and over again, not for their meaning but because of how they sound.  Mamet is all about rhythm and sounds, rolling the words around in your mouth before speaking them, relishing how the syllables are formed.  Plot is not the point (well, not as much as usual).  Hell, characters aren’t even the point.  It’s about the words.

Four men who sell shitty real estate to chump buyers out of a New York office are told by management (Spacey and Alec Baldwin in a cameo) that they are now entered into a competition for their jobs: the winner gets a car, the loser gets fired.  Shelley Levene (Lemmon) is growing increasingly desperate; it’s been too long since he’s had a hot streak.  Moss (Harris) utterly resents the contest for their livelihoods, and rants to Aaronow (Arkin).  Roma (Pacino) is on a hot streak, though, so he’s sitting pretty… until their office gets robbed and the leads, the good leads, the Glengarry leads, are missing.

  

Does Glengarry Glen Ross have the most talented cast of all time?  Yes.  OK, it’s probably impossible to identify something like that, but Glengarry Glen Ross is definitely top five.  Lemmon, Pacino, Spacey, Harris, Arkin, Pryce, Baldwin – holy fuck.  To me, this, combined with Mamet’s dialogue, are the big two reasons to watch this movie.  These are actors who are not only talented, but on the top of their game.  No one phones in a performance in Glengarry Glen Ross, even in the supporting roles.  Each one is phenomenal, managing to create a fully rounded character, pushed to their limits.  No one is in a rut, no one is complacent, everyone is fully keyed in and committed.  Lemmon is so good, so sad sack, so desperate, so at the end of his rope.  Pacino does an amazing job of playing what is clearly a Mamet-created character, so careful in how he speaks, so syncopated in his conversation.  Spacey as the boss is fantastic as he walks the line between weak-spined corporate puppet and genuinely dark and bitter character.  With Spacey, you never wholly know where the character stands in the film, but that’s a good thing because he is then unpredictable.  When he coldly turns a character away, it’s shocking in its cruelty, because he never hinted at it before. 

Really, the cast here is an embarrassment of riches.  Jesus, what a cast.

  

The dialogue, oh the dialogue.  There are certainly moments of what I would call “normal” dialogue, but also plenty of those utterly unique Mamet exchanges.  My favorite, and perhaps most distinct snippets, were those between Aaronow and Moss as Moss complains over and over and Aaronow agrees somewhat sycophantically.  The repetition sounds like a rat-a-tat-tat, like the rain on the roof of the car.  I love the stuttering in Mamet dialogue because it’s wholly on purpose.  It reminds me of a percussion drum line, every word in its exact right place, every syllable on purpose, every pause intentional, combining to make some novel melody that doesn’t sound quite like the symphony, but is intriguing nonetheless.  The actors and how they speak these lines, that is why you should watch Glengarry Glen Ross.

I like the noir atmosphere of the film.  It’s almost constantly raining in the first half of the film when the central conceit is introduced.  It’s nighttime, and we saw lots of sinister crimson reds and depressing blues.  The second half of the film looks significantly less noir, with a lighter day casting sunlight into the office.  It’s an interesting change, perhaps following Shelley Levine’s character arc.  In the first night, when Shelley is incredibly desperate and can’t catch a break, everything looks dark and bleak.  But the next morning, after the robbery, Shelley has made a sale he is excited about, and everything lightens up. 

Ultimately, while I really enjoy what I mentioned above, the entire premise of Glengarry Glen Ross keeps me at arm’s length from loving the film.  I abhor that sense of cutthroat competition that Glengarry Glen Ross is all about.  When I was in high school, as a clarinetist, I tasted of that competition.  The world of classical music is ferocious in its ridiculously high standards, and I knew it.  I knew that I had to be the best in order to have any chance at all of making it, and I also knew that although I was good, I was hardly the best (one of the best in my state, perhaps, but not the best overall).  And I reached a decision about why I was playing the clarinet – because I loved it, not because I wanted to compete.  So I knew I would not make it my career, I never wanted to make it my career, I did not want that tyrannical competition in my life.  Conversely, one of the things I love so much about where I work, where I teach, is that the teachers I work with are so utterly uncompetitive.  We share, we collaborate, we openly help one another out.  There is no sense of hoarding; if I come up with a new idea for an activity, I consult my colleagues for help because I know with them, the idea will be even better.  I hate – HATE – the premise of Glengarry Glen Ross.  It makes my stomach turn.  It’s actively something I avoid in my life.  It pits person against person, friend against friend, tearing people down and pulling apart relationships.  No thank you.  I feel so uncomfortable watching this film that I just can’t enjoy it.  It’s too hard.  It’s TOO bitter.  It makes me so ridiculously uncomfortable.  I’m sure others don’t have this type of problem with the film, but it’s a bit of a deal-breaker for me.

Glengarry Glen Ross is definitely unique in its talented cast, pattering dialogue, and over the top bitter premise.  Frankly, though, the premise is too bitter for me to swallow easily.  It’s a very good film, absolutely, but it can’t sit too well with me.  It’s one of those rough things where I know this is a good movie, I just have no interest in ever watching it again.

Arbitrary Rating: 7/10

Romper Stomper

Romper Stomper

1992

Director: Geoffrey Wright

Starring: Russell Crowe, Daniel Pollock, Jacqueline McKenzie

Romper Stomper is many things, but one thing it is not is apologetic.  “Unflinching.”  “Gritty”  “Intense.”  Yes, yes, and yes.  It’s also rather unpleasant.  That’s not a bad thing per se, but the scant 90 minutes that you spend with this movie will not be the happiest of your life.   It’s perhaps most famous as the film that put Russell Crowe on the map, and although I’m not the biggest Russell Crowe fan in the world, it’s easy to see why he became a star after his turn here.  What I ultimately take from Romper Stomper, though, is a bromance flick found in a rather unexpected place.

Hando (Crowe) is the de facto leader of a group of neo-Nazi skinheads living in Melbourne.  Davey (Pollock) is his best mate and right hand man.  Enraged at what they perceive to be an encroaching Vietnamese population, the gang enacts brutal retribution on local Asian innocents.  Epileptic and drug-addicted waif Gabe (McKenzie) catches Hando’s eye, and she begins accompanying the gang on their beatings.  One day, the Asians start to fight back against the gang in a brutally lethal manner, and this triggers the slow disintegration of the group that plays out for the rest of the film.  Eventually, we are left only with Hando, Davey, and Gabe, and the inevitable violent love triangle.

Hando's insane.  Seriously.  Insane.

There is a lot of hate in this movie.  Hi, it’s about neo-Nazis.  You can’t expect heaping loads of tolerance and love.  Even knowing this in advance, it’s still very hard for me to stomach this type of cruel bigotry.  Hando’s gang is as brutal as a bunch of thugs can get without guns.  Watching them beat the crap out of random people for no sane reason at all is a challenge.  But much in the same way that A Clockwork Orange starts with several ruthlessly cold fights then shifts its focus, Romper Stomper does as well.  (In fact, there are many parallels between these two films.)  After a long and chaotic fight where the Asian community fights back and fights back hard, the skinheads are no longer all-powerful.  They are beaten, bloody, and they have been forced into a humiliating retreat.  For me, it helped me to watch the rest of the film knowing that this group was not invincible.  Knowing that such hateful speech and cruel, unnecessary actions would ultimately have to be paid for made the bitter pill a little easier to swallow.  There is still controversy to this day as to whether this film glorified the skinheads or was a testimonial against them.  I see nothing about any kind of glory in this movie; it is particularly unglamorous. 

After the turning point fight, the movie changes its momentum.  The gang is on the run and they are breaking down.  The story shifts from being about skinheads to being about Hando, Davey, and Gabe.  This is a much more typical and common movie story – two guys and one girl – but I was intrigued and invested in it.  What really helps to set apart this particular love triangle, because criminy we’ve seen a billion love triangles before, is that it plays up all three angles of the triangle instead of just two.  This is not merely a story about Gabe and Hando versus Gabe and Davey.  Hando and Davey’s relationship is just as important, if not more so, than either of their interactions with Gabe.  Skinheads are hardly gentle people, but watching Hando put a makeshift pillow under Davey’s head when Davey is passed out drunk is surprising in its kindness.  Hando kisses Davey several times, and Davey seems to be the only one in the group who can exert any sort of control over Hando.  Hando may be having sex with Gabe, but he loves Davey.  Even Gabe herself notes to Davey, “Hando doesn’t act like he likes me.  He likes you, though, doesn’t he.”  Indeed, when I first smelled the triangle in the air of the film, I wasn’t entirely certain if it was because Davey wanted Gabe for himself, or whether Davey wanted Hando for himself. 

 

How strongly is the male love angle played up in Romper Stomper?  Well, I’ll put it this way.  In an extended home invasion sequence (another massively huge tip of the hat to A Clockwork Orange there), the piece of classical music heard in the background is Bizet’s “Au fond du temple saint” from the opera The Pearl Fishers.  “Au fond du temple saint” is one of the more famous pieces from all of opera.  It’s a duet between a tenor and a baritone, and in it, the two men sing about how they both fell in love with the same priestess, but that they decided to give up their love of her because of their friendship with one another.  This song was not chosen randomly.  Any piece of classical music may have sufficed, but no, Wright picks one that specifically mirrors the plight of Hando, Davey, and Gabe.  This is total and full-on bromance, albeit of the psychotic variety.

Additionally, the performances of all three players in the triangle are very strong.  Russell Crowe as Hando embraces his inner psychotic, playing him with a frighteningly quiet power.  The characters I fear the most are those who do not shout and make lots of unnecessary noise, and this is Hando.  Crowe is great in Hando’s physicality.  Again, it’s easy to see why this movie was the first step in propelling him to stardom.  As for Davey, Pollock is all shyness and unassuming gentle nature.  He’s even likeable!  Well, as much as a skinhead could be.  Pollock manages to play the harder role of the quiet sidekick who secretly, and maybe even unknowingly, wields power over the leader.  As the girl who comes between them, McKenzie is the Australian drug-addled gang version of a manic pixie dream girl.  I like that McKenzie gives Gabe her own strength, making her no one’s victim and not in need of any man to take care of her.  I like the touch of Gabe’s wardrobe changing as she became more entrenched in Hando’s gang; she goes from girlie frocks to a military style sweater and boots, but then back to her original frock when she strikes out again on her own.

  

Perhaps the reason this triangle works so well on screen is because, unnerving as it may sound, there were apparently real life parallels.  While filming, McKenzie and Pollock were romantically involved.  For his part, Crowe had made a film prior to this with Pollock (Proof) so the two had clearly worked together before and formed a bond.  Sadly – very sadly – Pollock, himself a heroin addict, committed suicide weeks after Romper Stomper wrapped filming by throwing himself under a train.  Russell Crowe’s band wrote a song about it, called “The Night That Davey Hit the Train.”  This kind of awful true story gives the tale that’s played out in Romper Stomper an extra dose of tragic pathos.  

The sound choices are very good.  The score is full of very hollow effects, lots of echoes, and a great deal of sounds that remind me of metal on metal.  It gives the film a vicious, biting feeling, but also one that underlines the emotional emptiness of the skinhead lifestyle.  The only thing most of the gang members feel is blind hate.  What sort of existence is that, to be compelled by such an empty feeling? 

It took two days and two viewings of Romper Stomper for me to finally decide where I stand on it.  Watching the first half is difficult, because that is when the neo-Nazi skinhead mentality is presented most fully, and neo-Nazi skinhead philosophy is not pleasant.  However, I think the triangle of Hando, Davey, and Gabe that takes center stage in the second half is one of the most intriguing, intense, and oddly enough, emotionally compelling relationships I’ve seen in some time.  The final beach scene is one that sticks to my ribs, infects my brain, and refuses to let me forget it. 

Hando and Davey: psychotic skinhead bromance, for real, yo.  Hando + Davey 4-eva.

   

Arbitrary Rating: 8/10.  As distasteful as it first seemed to me, I really like this one.  It’s not pleasant, oh no, but it’s intense and compelling.

Strictly Ballroom and Happy Birthday to ME!

In honor of my birthday today *yay me for continuing to live* I am posting a review of a film that I downright love, adore, and cherish.  I would review it even if it WEREN'T in the 1001 Movies book, but it just so happens to grace the pages.

Strictly Ballroom
1992
Director: Baz Luhrmann
Starring: Paul Mercurio, Tara Morice

You have seen this movie before. If you’re a stereotypical dude, you’ve seen Strictly Ballroom as any and all sports “plucky player/team rises the ranks and defeats the odds” film. If you’re a stereotypical chick, you’ve probably seen Dirty Dancing. And Strictly Ballroom, when you boil it down, IS Dirty Dancing.

But but but… there is so much more to Strictly Ballroom than generalizing the plot structure.

Which makes me say NOW that unless you’ve seen Strictly Ballroom, you have no idea what this movie is all about.

In terms of story, you’ve probably figured out the pattern by now. Scott Hastings (Mercurio) is a young ballroom dancer destined for greatness in the Australian Dance Federation, but an insistence on branching out and dancing HIS ORIGINAL MOVES *shock, horror!* find him constantly disqualified and in want of a partner. Enter frumpy, frizzy, bespectacled Fran (Morice), a beginner who agrees to dance original moves with Scott. CAN HE EVER TRAIN HER IN TIME TO COMPETE AT THE BIG CHAMPIONSHIP THREE WEEKS FROM NOW?!?!?

Unforgiven

Unforgiven
1992
Director: Clint Eastwood
Starring: Clint Eastwood, Gene Hackman, Morgan Freeman, Frances Fisher, Richard Harris

Clint Eastwood made a lot of westerns in his career. His is a face that is forever linked with the genre. Unforgiven plays like a swan song; indeed, thus far, it’s the last western Eastwood made. It feels like Eastwood is thanking the genre for what westerns have done for him as he gracefully exits stage left.

A cowboy attacks a prostitute with a knife, cutting up her face. This prompts the madam at the brothel, Strawberry Alice (Fisher), to call for the man’s blood. The sheriff in town, Little Bill (Hackman), decides on a much more sedate punishment, prompting Alice to offer reward money. First to town comes outlaw English Bob (Harris), who is promptly dealt with by Little Bill. But the money also tempts William Munny (Eastwood) out of retirement, along with his friend Ned Logan (Freeman), leading to the inevitable showdown.