One-Percent Warrior (2023, Yamaguchi Yudai)

The One-Percent in One-Percent Warrior’s title does not refer to the super-rich, but rather when someone transcends in their film-related martial arts excellence. The majority of the film is just a forty-minute action sequence with star Sakaguchi Tak roaming around an abandoned zinc factory—on its own little CGI island—and kicking various butt. A lot of it is the same butt. It was in the second or third big beat-down I realized all of the bad guys have their faces covered so they can keep getting beaten down.

But forty minutes isn’t a movie, so Warrior’s has a very complicated story tacked on.

The movie opens with documentary interview footage about how Sakaguchi’s such a badass; even though he’s just an action movie star, he can kick his special forces buddies’ asses too. He can dodge bullets. Sakaguchi doesn’t necessarily get a lot to do in the film—even when he’s got the big reveal, which I’ll dance around later—he doesn’t do a lot. But he manages to make the bullet dodging believable.

And he’s socially awkward enough you can believe it when he can’t hold a steady job. His latest gig is on a period piece where he very quickly mouths off too much and gets fired. On this particular job, however, he meets Fukuyama Kohei, who thinks Sakaguchi’s an action god. Fukuyama becomes Sakaguchi’s sidekick and trainee, listening to Sakaguchi talk about his martial arts and his dream of the perfect action film.

So much talking.

Fukuyama convinces Sakaguchi to try to get funding, which leads them to the abandoned zinc factory island. They’ve got to find a location, after all. There, they discover another film crew already scouting the same location. Before that scene even finishes, Warrior adds the next plot wrinkle—they’re both scouting a location where a dead mobster hid his cocaine and now one set of bad guys has brought the dead mobster’s daughter (Fukuda Rumika) to find it.

Except… there’s also another set of mobsters who want the cocaine, so they’re trying to kill those gangsters without hurting Fukuda. They’ve got other gangster’s daughter Harumi Kanon with them. Harumi’s a vicious killer, not naive like Fukuda, so there’s a whole juxtaposition thing.

Fukuyama will end up bonding with Fukuda, but there’s no payoff for it, which stinks because Fukuyama’s really likable in the scenes. It also stinks because it plays into the third act reveal, which part and parcel lifts one of the more famous movie twists from the twentieth century. While Warrior uses the twist just to get to stop the movie—it’s very low budget, and they do a lot with that budget, but there’s a limit, and they do hit it multiple times—but the twist also suggests there’s all sorts of character development they could’ve done but didn’t. Even within the constraints of the established format (the documentary interviews and so on).

It’s a real bummer because Warrior overcomes a turgid first act to actually get moving once the action starts. Sakaguchi can obviously do his job, but Fukuda, Harumi, Fukuyama—they all come through. Even the gangsters are solid. Warrior goes into the finale much stronger than expected, albeit because we’re worried about characters we may or may not need to be worried about, but still. Warrior’s second act rally is significant.

And then it all crashes down.

Bullitt (1968, Peter Yates)

Bullitt is from the period when Hollywood wasn’t calling the Mafia the Mafia yet—it’s “The Organization” here—and none of the mobsters had Italian names, but they are mostly Italian (heritage) actors. It’s especially funny because part of Bullitt’s conceit hangs on WASPs like up-and-coming senator Robert Vaughn not being able to tell Italians apart.

But that inability figures into Bullitt’s solution, which is beside the point. It’s such a nothing burger, the whole thing gets explained in two and a half lines as lead Steve McQueen and sidekick Don Gordon head off to the next set piece. Because while the film’s all about McQueen’s investigation, it’s about McQueen investigating. The film’s a character study of a hotshot San Francisco detective during one of his cases, and, despite the property damage, it might not even be one of his biggest cases. We don’t know. Vaughn wants him on the case because McQueen makes good press, but there’s never any press in the movie.

And we do see the occasional newspaper. Director Yates is hyper-focused on McQueen, though that focus doesn’t mean we get the full procedural. We don’t even see the resolution to the elaborate, exquisite car chase. Instead, we skip ahead to the next time McQueen’s going to do something idiosyncratic.

So, despite being (apparently) beloved by his fellow coppers, McQueen is very much not a regular cop. He hangs out with a happening crowd, dating British architect (I mean, she’s working on an architecture project) Jacqueline Bisset. She doesn’t know about his work life, and he likes to keep it that way. For good reason, it turns out. While there are probably a couple significant events in McQueen’s character’s work life covered in the film, the tack-on subplot about his girlfriend realizing he’s around poor people in poor places all day and not liking it seems the most consequential one.

Though, who knows, because the most relationship-building the film does for McQueen and Bisset has him being charming and then admiring. Otherwise, he’s a little busy with work.

The film opens with a gorgeous titles sequence (from Pablo Ferro Films) and expressive Lalo Schifrin music recounting a mob accountant getting away from goons in Chicago. In some ways, the titles set the tone for the film; in other ways, very much not. For instance, Schifrin’s score will barely figure in during the main action; Yates is far more interested in the diegetic sound; John K. Kean has the sound credit, with Duane Hansel, the uncredited sound editor. They do singular work. Bullitt’s got its share of genre and style innovations, but the sound design is on a whole other level.

However, the camerawork in the titles is similar to the rest of the film. Yates and cinematographer William A. Fraker alternate between vérité and precise movement. Yates likes his crane shots too, even limited ones indoors—lots of Bullitt is about watching people work and listening to the environment around them. More specifically, it’s about watching McQueen watch people work. The first major dramatic sequence in the second act involves ER doctor Georg Stanford Brown operating while McQueen (and eventually Vaughn) wait. Vaughn’s agitated, McQueen’s… seemingly not, seemingly reserved, but what’s under the surface? Yates points the camera at McQueen and inspects, which he’s already established as a motif in the first act (when McQueen’s admiring Bisset). Such good direction.

Until the third act, when Bullitt becomes a detached action thriller—with Yates, Fraker, editor Frank P. Keller, and the sound department all using previously established techniques on a giant set piece set at the airport—it’s all about watching McQueen’s face, his eyes, his breaths; waiting for him to act and react.

Other characters get similar inspection too. Usually, when dealing with McQueen or Vaughn, but also not: cabbie Robert Duvall takes it all in from the first scene in San Francisco, as the mob accountant turned witness works his way around town. Police captains Simon Oakland and Norman Fell both especially get to stare daggers while waiting on McQueen and Vaughn. But bad guys John Aprea and Bill Hickman watching McQueen (or, more accurately, his car) is maybe the most remarkable since Yates and Keller are implementing the technique in the middle of a car chase. Again, such good direction.

Most of the performances are outstanding. McQueen’s spell-binding; Oakland, Duvall, and Brown all have great moments. Vaughn’s a piece of shit politician, so he’s somewhat limited, but he’s real good at it. Similarly, Bisset’s a little too thin, but she’s fine. No time for love or architecture in Bullitt. Gordon’s a good sidekick and the occasional comic relief. He and McQueen have fantastic rapport, which makes their scenes work more than the dialogue.

The script—credited to Alan Trustman and Harry Kleiner, based on a Robert L. Fish’s novel not starring a character named Bullitt (and written under the pen name Robert L. Pike)—is terse and willfully obtuse at times. Bullitt feels like Yates and Keller, especially, made it in the editing studio, but who knows, maybe Trustman and Kleiner really did write it so remote. There are some great one-liners, though; it’s not overtly macho but enthusiastic about its procedural jargon–such a strange, transfixing combination.

Fraker’s photography is glorious and would be the easy technical standout if it weren’t for Keller’s peerless cutting.

The third act’s got a handful of problems, but Bullitt weathers them well thanks to McQueen, Yates, Keller, Fraker, and company. It’s a masterful piece of work.

Resident Alien (2021) s02e08 – Alien Dinner Party

Well. Here I thought this episode was the season finale. It’s not. It’s the end of “Resident Alien: Season Two: Part One.” Another eight episodes are coming later. Things make a little more sense (though they may have introduced more in this episode than they can resolve in another eight). The episode ends on a big cliffhanger, with all sorts of future connotations, after an episode where everything’s got different connotations for the future. Starting with the first scene, which introduces another alien species on Earth, seemingly protecting aliens from Linda Hamilton’s evil general.

Though maybe not, based on some of the later revelations in the episode.

Some developments are even more impressive with the episode not being the finale. They got a lot done in eight episodes, giving numerous cast members full arcs. Much of the episode involves Levi Fiehler and Meredith Garretson getting annoyed with one another at Alan Tudyk’s impromptu surprise birthday party. Tudyk and Sara Tomko are just back from a trip to New York, with an (unbeknownst to them) hatching alien egg in tow.

Garretson’s freaking out about a possible pregnancy, with Alice Wetterlund her only confidant. Unfortunately, Wetterlund’s keeping some secrets from Garretson about her and Fiehler. It’s a very complicated, very volatile situation, even without an alien baby due any minute. Plus, Gracelyn Awad Rinke has just discovered Judah Prehn probably got the town doctor kidnapped by Hamilton and wants to rush and tell Tomko. Only it’s not safe to go outside.

Deputy Elizabeth Bowen also gets an arc about her alien encounter memories, which she gets to share with her newly introduced (to the show) husband, Trevor Carroll. No doubt, it’s set up for a “Season Two: Part Two” subplot, but when you think it’s the finale, it just seems like some nice character development for Bowen. Sheriff Corey Reynolds gets something similar, finally working through his grieving over a dead partner. Though Reynolds is mostly around for the one-liners. He’s hilarious and seemingly the only guest who’s fully aware Fiehler’s got ulterior motives for throwing the bash, which doesn’t even end up being important because there’s so much other stuff.

And not just with Fiehler and Garretson.

It’s a very, very full episode—Tudyk’s got an entire alien baby care arc, and then Tomko has a small but significant one with daughter Kaylayla Raine.

Claudia Yarmy’s direction is solid; she gives the actors enough time and space, taking advantage of the background to keep other plots moving, and the jokes coming. Reynolds has a few times he’s just behind the main action telling jokes. I’m not sure the show’s ever brought the whole cast together before—there are ten adults plus two kids. And Diana Bang has a great, short bit as Rinke and Prehn’s babysitter.

Show creator Chris Sheridan gets the script credit. He does well with so much going on in a short present action (a few hours at most).

I had fully prepared myself for “Resident Alien” to lose its renewal chicken. The acting’s way too good in a way too peculiar show. But knowing it’s just on a mid-season hiatus? I can just appreciate its considerable successes (Tomko’s particularly great this episode) and eagerly await its return.

Resident Alien (2021) s02e07 – Escape from New York

Once again, I've failed to keep up with episodes per season on shows this year, and it turns out this episode is the penultimate one for "Resident Alien: Season Two," which makes a lot of sense. If the season were running ten episodes, it'd be a little strange to introduce so many new plot threads with three episodes to go.

Though maybe if it were running thirteen, there might be time. And with just one more, they can position the show for season three, something they really didn't get to do with season one's finale.

The episode concludes Alan Tudyk and Sara Tomko's trip to New York City (which looks more like Vancouver this episode than last time), with two big surprises. One came as even more of a surprise because I thought they were just adapting the comic arc, but they are not; they're upping the "Alien" ante. The other surprise is a phenomenal moment, with the show acknowledging it's hurrying some things and then taking the time to make things count.

After resolving Tudyk tripping on acid, Tudyk and Tomko's arc leads to some nice character bits in Central Park (or whatever it's called in Vancouver) and then is mostly action. They've got to find out what other alien's human companion Maxim Roy knows before woman-in-black Mandell Maughan kills them, plus there are some New York thugs following them, thinking Tudyk's still the human Tudyk. Lots of action.

Things back in small mountain town Colorado are slower but with similarly significant developments. Alice Wetterlund and Meredith Garretson have a girl jock character arc together; Wetterlund gets off her duff and gets back to the gym, where she runs into Garretson. Now, Garretson's unaware Wetterlund spent last episode on a bonding arc with Garretson's husband, Levi Fiehler. As Garretson muses about her marriage in this episode, Wetterlund's got some relevant information she can't share.

Luckily they can still bond over exercising.

Considering the other arc involves sheriff Corey Reynolds deciding he's made a mistake with a murder investigation and might be entirely up-ending the show (it includes him getting some detective novels, which are straight out of the comic), Wetterlund and Garretson's character arc is this episode's most ambitious, but also smallest swing; especially since Tomko doesn't end up with much to do. She's entirely support for Tudyk after a certain point.

She's got a couple terrific scenes. There's a lot of strong acting in this episode, especially Tudyk, whose absurd comedy moments are phenomenal, and Gary Farmer. Farmer gets a bonding scene with Reynolds where Farmer monologues a war story, and it's incredible. Oh, and then Diana Bang—the nurse at the town clinic who's been getting more and great material this season—has an awesome scene with Fiehler.

Good direction from Claudia Yarmy; she gives the actors time and room, never slowing down the action but never rushing anyone either.

Not knowing the season was almost over saved me worrying about it not being renewed (until now, anyway), but I really hope they get at least one more. With a bigger order too. Eight episodes—albeit an obviously Covid-19 lockdown limiting season—isn't enough, not with this cast.

All Rise (2019) s02e13 – Love’s Illusions

Let me get the big reveals out of the way.

Starting with Simone Missick’s husband not having moved out to L.A. yet, even though once again it seemed like it was about to happen. Instead she’s going back to work and hiring a babysitter to look after the newborn.

We also get to meet Lindsey Gort’s hidden husband (she’s still getting a divorce because, even though she hasn’t openly forgiven Wilson Bethel for locking lips—briefly and actually she did kiss him, we saw it on the show—with law partner Ryan Michelle Bathe). Josh Henderson plays the husband. It’s a cop out reveal.

Then there’s J. Alex Brinson. This episode he and Bethel find out what’s going on with the list of ostensibly dirty sheriff’s deputies names on it—and Brinson’s—and he’s got to make some choices with it. Does he make the right choice? No one knows, possibly not even the viewer, because CBS hasn’t renewed “All Rise” yet.

We get a couple other “to be continued” plot threads, like what’s Jessica Camacho going to do in her love triangle with Brinson and Shalim Ortiz and then Lindsay Mendez and Marg Helgenberger’s weird arc about an abusive mom friend of Helgenberger’s. The latter’s got more potential, because it seems like it’s going to be a big character development thing for her and the show’s established she does all right with more material.

The A plot is Missick’s first case back, which is about a teen (Ashley Jones) in trouble for swatting a cyber-boyfriend, only some random guy (Larry Sullivan) ends up shot because cops will unarmed white people if there aren’t any BIPOC around. Gort’s trying the case and tries to exploit Missick carrying about social justice, leading to a very weird scene where Missick basically tells Bethel his girlfriend’s shit and he has to agree.

Jones is bad, Gort’s okay (I don’t think we’ve ever seen her try a case with this much meat to it before), and the case itself is engaging. So good A plot.

Briana Belser gets the script credit, Claudia Yarmy directs. Belser’s writing on the court stuff is the best, the relationship stuff the worst, the workaday stuff in between. Yarmy’s decent, but the social distanced scenes get tiring inside. Outside they’re okay. Inside… it’s like watching actors’ monologues cut together.

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020, Cathy Yan)

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) is a Margot Robbie vehicle, which is excellent, because Robbie’s great and the filmmaking, particularly on Robbie’s scenes, is outstanding. Retitling it the Fantabulous Emancipation of Harley Quinn would be the best move; the Birds of Prey are going to be a bonus, with all your favorite side characters teaming up with the potential for a sequel. Or at least a great “team” epilogue scene. But it’s all about Robbie. Robbie and, to a lesser extent, Ewan McGregor, who gets to play a fantastic villain here.

The film opens with an animated recap of Robbie’s Harley Quinn, which—in addition to being kind of cute and establishing the film’s cartoonish nature immediately—means the film doesn’t have to use any actual footage from Robbie’s previous outing, Suicide Squad, much less the cursed image of Jared Leto’s Joker. And it sets up Robbie’s narration; the narration continues after the opening, walking the audience through the plot, albeit with less exposition than in the opening titles sequence. Robbie’s contemporaneous narration usually establishes one of the supporting players’ backstories in relation to the crime story and gives Fantabulous a noir feel. Director Yan shoots it like one too, with the supporting cast all assuming the showy character actor parts of old without being character actors. Instead, Yan and Prey just waits for the character to resonate enough through presence, then expands them. The film’s got a phenomenal sense of timing, both for the character arcs and the action. The film’s a crime story about a tween pickpocket (Ella Jay Basco) who picks the wrong pocket and gets into a bunch of trouble. She gets some badass defenders who try to get her out of that trouble while also inspiring her to do something better with her life.

Though not exactly. Because Birds of Prey is very much about the bullshit women have to tolerate just to survive. Robbie’s been a cannibal madman’s concubine, if you want to go with comic book Joker, or… shudder… Jared Leto’s, if you want to go with movie Joker. Cop Rosie Perez has watched the men she works with take credit for her work for her entire career. Club singer turned crime boss driver Jurnee Smollett-Bell is on survival mode, though Smollett-Bell’s got the thinnest backstory; the film’s not fair to most of its supporting cast; Birds gives them enough to shine but only just. Like Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s Mafia orphan turned “cross bow killer,” who assassinates the mobsters who killed her family so long ago. Winstead turns out being great, but it takes a while. She’s kind of comic relief cameoing leading up to it. It’s unfair because Smollett-Bell’s introduction, a performance of It’s a Man’s World, is one of the film’s best sequences.

Fantabulous has a lot of sequences on that list, however. The entire first act and most of the second are these expertly executed and edited adventures for Robbie, with frequent check-ins on villain McGregor and cop Perez. No one gets to do anything on their own except Robbie, McGregor, and Perez in Birds. Smollett-Bell never runs her own scene and, despite being a lone avenger, Winstead doesn’t get to either. Ditto Basco. It’s Robbie’s movie, with some great stuff for McGregor and Perez—once it’s clear McGregor and Perez are actually going to be able to give excellent performances, Birds of Prey’s gradually solidifying ground immediately turns concrete. McGregor, Yan, and screenwriter Christina Hodson get a truly great villain going here. The strangest part of Fantabulous, between McGregor’s New Wave gangster antics and Robbie doing crime and fighting thugs in the streets of Gotham, is how much it feels like a realization of the DC Batman movies going back to the beginning. Well, not Adam West, but Tim Burton and Joel Schumacher. Birds of Prey’s got an actual good sense of humor about itself. It lets itself have fun and stretch to get to certain jokes. The truly terrifying moments in the film make up for it. It’s not just McGregor’s arrogant, privileged sadism, it’s him having even more dangerous sidekick Chris Messina. Because Messina knowingly eggs McGregor on. And they come into the movie cutting people’s faces off so there’s the imagination is rightly spinning.

Throw in Yan, cinematographer Matthew Libatique, production designer K.K. Barrett, and costumer designer Erin Benach’s “reality,” which sort of toughens up a cop comedy to the point where you can have Robbie and Winstead’s costumed antics and not have it break character. Yan and Libatique open with a great scene of urban destruction; it’s very realistically rendered. As the film introduces more and more outlandish elements, the visual tone stays constant. It’s not until the end Birds breaks out the obviously CGI landscapes, at which point Yan and company have earned the leeway. It’s a bit of a cartoon anyway, right?

The third act’s not great. Birds just doesn’t have an ending. Instead of just stopping, the film wraps everything it can together and hopes the cast can pull it off. The cast and some excellent fight choreography, which is geared for eventual laughs not ouches, succeed.

But the point of the movie isn’t the fight, the missing diamond, the girl power… it’s Robbie. And for the great showcase Fantabulous gives Robbie, it doesn’t give her enough. The part’s not there. Because to put the part there… you couldn’t have the entertaining action comedy. Or at least the jokes wouldn’t land in the same way. So it’s not a good ending but it’s a reluctant fine. It does work. It just doesn’t excel and when you’ve spent ninety minutes watching everything excel, something not excelling is a smash on the breaks.

So me being upset about Robbie not getting a better character study aside, Fantabulous is a thorough success. Yan, Robbie, and McGregor are the major standouts—though Yan’s crew all deserves major acknowledgement, especially the costume and production designs, the photography, the editing. I have no memory of Daniel Pemberton’s score, but the soundtrack’s great and, whatever Pemberton does works.

Oh. And the now infamous sandwich scene. It’s remarkable. The film often is.

All Rise (2019) s01e18 – The Tale of Three Arraignments

I think I know “All Rise” continuity better than the writers because when they introduce previously unmentioned Third Musketeer Ryan Michelle Bathe (she went to law school with Simone Missick and Wilson Bethel), they bend the backstory about Missick and Bethel knowing each other as kids. Or they don’t completely break it—Missick and Bethel meeting up after undergrad at the same law school could work, though him then (apparently) dating Bathe, who—physical description-wise—is identical to Missick… It has a certain feel to it.

Bathe’s back in town to start a new law firm and she wants both Missick and Bethel to join her. It was their childish law school dream. And both Missick and Bethel are in enough of a state to consider it. Marg Helgenberger’s punishing Missick for not forgiving her white feminism—like, gently punishing, being an obvious jerk but not a Machiavellian villain—and Reggie Lee’s doing something similar to Bethel. Will the Dynamic Duo join forces and become the Terrific Trio?

Only the show never pushes it too hard. “All Rise” is a mostly happy place where Jessica Camacho—who’s got an obnoxious romance subplot with J. Alex Brinson this episode, just exasperating, also has a hashtag Girl Power story arc involving Bathe and now steadily recurring prosecutor Suzanne Cryer. Camancho’s client, Raven Bowens, is being pimped by Greg Tarzan Davis and Camacho wants to do something about it, involving Cryer, but then Davis hires Bathe and Camacho gets her involved. Then Bathe gets Missick involved, who then gets Helgenberger involved and basically it’s a very positive change thanks to women working together moment.

And Bowens is great.

It’s not a great plot and isn’t particularly compelling outside Bowens’s performance and it takes them a while to spotlight her, instead giving it to Camacho in the run-up, but the acting’s solid from the regulars, excellent from Bowens, and there’s a sincerity to it. It’s making the system work for victims.

There’s some more with Missick’s husband, Todd Williams, and the creepy campaign adviser guy, Nicholas Christopher, who apparently Missick’s supposed to have chemistry with but doesn’t because Christopher always seems like a creep. Williams’s got a nothing part; he doesn’t try to showboat it, he just plays it and goes on his way. Christopher tries to showboat and invades the scenes. It’s really weird and unfortunate, as pretty much everything involving Missick and romance is a drag.

She’s much better hanging out with Bathe and Bethel in her off time.

It’s not one of the better episodes, not one of the worse—Bathe’s a fine supporting player to recur… but doesn’t the show have to start worrying about renewal at this point. Oh, episode eighteen… we’re definitely in the renewal pageantry portion of the season—all right, let’s see what they’ve got.

All Rise (2019) s01e11 – The Joy From Oz

Does the Los Angeles court really have a bring your kids to work day? I’m less engaged with the dramatics of “All Rise,” which has Wilson Bethel hemming and hawing over whether or not to help dad Tony Denison with his upcoming trial or just abandon him and Simone Missick having to defend herself as a judge to her current and former peers, whose problem with her is basically she’s a Black woman but “All Rise” doesn’t have the stones to say it, than with the incidentals of the courthouse they’re creating. Chief Justice Marg Helgenberger deciding her most important duty is to make sure visiting kids have the best time on their trip is… very weird. And very silly (they stage a mock trial based around Wizard of Oz, sadly it’s for the kids and not smartly written). But Helgenberger’s awesome at being silly. She’s been fine on the show before, good even, but never so much fun.

But while she’s being fun in a C plot, Missick and Bethel are just trying to get through the episode. It starts with everyone going crazy for the cookies at the District Attorney’s holiday party, which seems like utter nonsense. A bunch of harried adults geeked out a couple cookies (because they’re not irresponsibly snacking of course). “All Rise” dares the viewer to take it too seriously.

Anyway, Bethel’s arc is all about how some crook rats out his boss and it turns out to be because of a family thing and so it inspires Bethel not to abandon Tony Denison, even though at the end of last episode Bethel was ready to quit his job and become a defense attorney. There’s also a white guy redemption thing to it. Meanwhile, Missick’s got to defend herself against asinine allegations—she apparently embarrasses attorneys in her courtroom when they’re shady or incompetent—while Rocket Romano (or whatever Paul McCrane’s conservative white judge but not racist conservative TV nonsense conservative) shoots her withering looks. It’s got a predictable end.

Missick gets a big speech about how she’s going to judge the way she’s going to judge and it’s… fine. It’s not well-written, it’s certainly not well-directed (Claudia Yarmy’s direction is best described as annoying), but Missick gets through it. See, she’s got the hashtag woke courtroom and everyone—except the white prosecutors (save Bethel of course)—thinks there finally needs to be a hashtag woke courtroom. Not sure why no one else could do it but whatever. It’s just sad Missick’s stuck on such an obvious, middling network drama instead of actually getting to act on something.

The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973, Peter Yates)

The Friends of Eddie Coyle is an amusing, intentionally misleading title. Eddie Coyle (Robert Mitchum) doesn’t have any friends. He has various criminal contacts he sees on a regular basis, but he doesn’t consider any of them friends. Mitchum’s a down-on-luck small-time crook who’s about to go away for a couple years. He didn’t rat, which just makes Peter Boyle–who set up the crappy job for Mitchum–even more of a jerk for teasing Mitchum about his impending doom.

Mitchum just wants to stay out so his family doesn’t have to go on welfare. It could be a tragic story, but Mitchum’s not really the focus of the film. Instead, it’s fairly even divvied between The Friends.

Boyle works at a bar where the criminals hang out and he spies on them for federal agent Richard Jordan. Mitchum also tips off Jordan on occasion. Jordan’s merciless without being cruel. He goes out of his way not to be cruel, just merciless.

Then there’s the other half of The Friends. Alex Rocco and Joe Santos are bank robbers. Mitchum supplies their guns, buying them from Steven Keats. Keats is a relative newcomer to gun dealing and a lot of the film follows him and his methodical approach to his trade. Rocco and Santos’s bank heists are similarly elaborate. Yates likes the procedural scenes. Pat Jaffe’s editing on these sequences is exquisite; they lacks dramatic weight, but they’re still masterfully executed.

Some of the problem with Friends’s dramatic weight is, frankly, Dave Grusin’s boppy score. The style might be contemporarily appropriate, but it still needs to fit the action and carry the drama. The score’s usually silly in procedural scenes and it’s fine. It doesn’t get in the way. But then when the film needs Grusin to carry some dramatic weight? Especially during the problematic third act. By then, the film’s given up on a consistent narrative rhythm and Grusin’s got to move scenes forward. The music needs to do something special. It needs to payoff.

It doesn’t.

Paul Monash’s script maybe could be better. The Friends are usually humanized in way to not make them seem bad. Even Keats, who’s only onscreen when he’s being a creep, gets humanized. But not Peter Boyle. He’s just a bad guy. Mitchum’s top-billed, plays the title character, and he practically could get an “and” credit. If it weren’t for the bank robber subplot, the film would go from being about Keats to being about Boyle and Jordan. Monash gets through it, maybe trying a little hard on the Boston criminal vocabulary, which often makes expository dialogue clunk. It’s just clear there’s got to be a better way to do this story. Monash’s script doesn’t crack it.

Yates’s direction is good. Best on procedural stuff because he too can’t figure out how to maintain consistent distance from the characters. Even though he’s second-billed and does more than Mitchum, the film’s not comfortable relying on Boyle. Instead it goes to Jordan, who’s good and all, he’s just not compelling.

Mitchum’s great. Keats’s great. Rocco and Santos are good. They don’t have a lot to do. Jordan’s good. Boyle’s good. With Boyle, there’s a definite disconnect between how Boyle’s doing the performance and how Yates’s shooting it. Boyle needs to be spellbinding. He’s not. He’s just good.

And, similarly, The Friends of Eddie Coyle is good. With some unfortunate qualifications.

This post is part of the “It Takes a Thief” Blogathon hosted by Debbie of Moon in Gemini.

John and Mary (1969, Peter Yates)

Dustin Hoffman and Mia Farrow are John and Mary, respectively, and they’ve just woken up after spending the night together. They met at a singles bar. Is it going to be a one night stand or is it going to be something more?

Both come with some baggage, though of different varieties. Farrow’s last serious relationship was with a married politican (Michael Tolan); they spent a lot of their time hiding from his family. Hoffman, on the other hand, had a model ex-girlfriend (Sunny Griffin) who moved in with him and wasn’t a good cook. Seeing as Hoffman’s a neat freak and a control freak, it didn’t work out.

John Mortimer’s screenplay uses a handful of techniques to fill in the backstory. For a while, there’s narration from both Hoffman and Farrow–the film takes place over a day, with the narration mostly taking place in the morning–then there are flashbacks (featuring Tolan and Griffin) and daydreams. Director Yates plays with how the flashbacks and daydreams relate to the present action–he and Mortimer end up using them to generate confusion to cause suspense for the viewer, which is effective enough… only it’s a little cheap.

Despite excellent cinematography from Gayne Rescher and production design from John Robert Lloyd–most of the present action takes place in Hoffman’s apartment, with the flashbacks (and daydreams) expanding to New York City–Yates doesn’t have a tempo for any of it. Farrow’s more compelling than Hoffman, but not because of her writing or because of how Yates directs her; she’s sympathetic. From the start, Hoffman’s a jerk. And as the film peels back the onion, he gets jerkier as things progress.

Yates and Mortimer lean the film’s entire weight on the effectiveness of third act reveals, only all those reveals are with the time shift gimmicks. There aren’t any character development reveals. Sure, it’s only a day, but Hoffman and Farrow’s performances don’t gain anything from all the flashback exposition. That particular failing is more Mortimer’s fault than Yates’s, however.

Though if Yates had come up with better–read, any–integration of the film’s various moving parts, he’d probably have been able to compensate.

Instead, John and Mary gets by thanks to Farrow and Hoffman’s performances. She’s got a better character, turns in a better performance. He’s Dustin Hoffman, he’s got some inherent likability–even if the film does sledgehammer away at it, particularly in the first act. When he does get big moments in the script, no one really knows what to do with them. They’re all kind of trite; someone–Yates, Mortimer, or Hoffman–needs to have a handle on the character. None do. Yet Hoffman is still able to get through. He wouldn’t be able to without Farrow.

John and Mary’s not bad. It’s just not successful. Yates is way too blasé about the whole thing.