Film Review: HEIST (2001, David Mamet)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 109 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Gene Hackman, Danny DeVito, Rebecca Pidgeon (THE SPANISH PRISONER, STATE & MAIN), Sam Rockwell (MOON, THE GREEN MILE), Delroy Lindo (CROOKLYN, BROKEN ARROW), Ricky Jay (HOUSE OF GAMES, MAGNOLIA, DEADWOOD), Patti LuPone (Broadway star, WITNESS, DRIVING MISS DAISY). Written and directed by David Mamet (HOUSE OF GAMES, HOMICIDE, THE SPANISH PRISONER).
Tag-line: " It isn't love that makes the world go round."
Best one-liner: "My motherfucker is so cool, when he goes to bed, sheep count him." or maybe "Never liked the Swiss, they make them little clocks, these two cocksuckers come out of 'em with these little hammers, hit each other on the head. What kind of sick mentality is that?"

I thought I'd take a break from the countdown to make a few concise, mathematical observations about David Mamet's film, HEIST. I saw this film on the big screen upon its initial release, which, hard as it may be for me to comprehend, was in fact ten years ago. It's a taut little crime flick, populated with razor-sharp performers and rapid-fire dialogue. It's probably slightly more "fun," than the average Mamet flick as well (I mean, compared to, say, HOMICIDE or OLEANNA...). Ricky Jay gets a lot of deadpan one-liners,

In the Junta Juleil rulebook, Ricky Jay is one of the few people permitted to walk nonchalantly away from an explosion without drawing my ire.

Rebecca Pidgeon dons a lot of redunkulous diguises, including that of a "flannel-luvin' lesbian," Gene Hackman punctuates a lot of verbal exchanges with that 'mischievous old man laugh' he's been refining since the beginning of his career,

Delroy Lindo cultivates the idea that he has ice-water in his veins, Danny DeVito hoots and hollers like a mad ape (and punches the 'Pidge in the process– wait a minute, I like that!... I shall therefore refer to Rebecca Pidgeon as "The Pidge" from this day forward),

The Pidge smolders.

and Patti LuPone sneaks booze into her morning coffee. In short, it has a lot of character and is a damn good time.

Yet I make those notations having recently re-watched it. With the thousands of movies I'd digested between 2001-2011, until last night I could remember almost nothing about HEIST. I remembered the cast, and that there were double crosses and thieves and fast-paced witticisms, but largely I remembered that most of the film seemed to center around three ideas, or rather, three words: "fuck," "job," and "gold."

The reconstruction of the film in my head went something like this: "Fuck the gold job." –"Fuck the job!? Fuck the gold!" "Gold job fuck!" –"Job fuck gold!" "Gold fuck job!" –"Fuck gold fuck job, gold fuck!" And so on and so on.

FUCKING GOLD JOB FUCK!

So, upon revisiting HEIST, I decided to test these recollections against cold, hard statistics. (Now, as I continue, I would like to say that only Mamet and others of his literary caliber are allowed to get away with this sort of thing; there's a mighty fine line sometimes betwixt poetry and juvenilia.) I discovered this: in 109 minutes, there were thirty-two golds, fifty fucks, and fifty-one jobs. You may be disappointed in the tally, as it certainly doesn't approach the legendary films which go bananas with the f-word, for instance, but there's still more than one of those three words being uttered every minute, an even more impressive feat considering that there are many wordless, multi-minute heist sequences peppered throughout the film. But, in a way, my previous impression goes far in establishing the economy with which Mamet tells a story (and perhaps even Mamet's greater intentions). You see– this is indeed a movie about a job, some gold, and some people fucking each other over. Well-executed as it is, perhaps Mamet is making a comment on heist movies: as Godard said, all you need to make a movie is a girl and a gun; perhaps it follows that all you need to make a post-1990's heist movie is a job, some gold, and some f-bombs? And the Pidge. Mustn't forget the Pidge. (And I'll leave you with those pleasant thoughts of the Pidge before I begin analyzing post-Nixon obsessions with the gold standard in relation to HEIST!) Four stars.

-Sean Gill

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Film Review: THE BLOOD OF HEROES (1989, David Webb Peoples)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 90 minutes.
Tag-line: "When juggers play there is only one way to live - THE HARD WAY!"
Notable Cast or Crew: Rutger Hauer, Joan Chen, Vincent D'Onofrio, Delroy Lindo, Richard Norton (GYMKATA, dual roles in THE OCTAGON), Max Fairchild (MAD MAX 1 & 2), Anna Katarina (THE GAME, OMEGA DOOM). Written and directed by David Webb Peoples (BLADE RUNNER, LEVIATHAN, SOLDIER, LADYHAWKE, TWELVE MONKEYS, UNFORGIVEN, THE DAY AFTER TRINITY). Again, I really don't know why Peoples isn't a household name.
Best one-liner: " I don't like brutality. I like heroics. I like the blood of heroes."
AKA: SALUTE OF THE JUGGER. Right on!

Rutger Hauer, meet Joan Chen. Now a lot of people might know, say, that Rutger Hauer and somebody like Brion James have worked together four times, but the fact that he and TWIN PEAKS darling Joan Chen have appeared in four films together, ranging from 1989 (THE BLOOD OF HEROES) to 2010 (TONIGHT AT NOON) came to me as a bit of a shock. They're like the latter-day 20th Century Sci-Fi Hepburn and Tracy. Well, kind of. And that's not even the most puzzling facet of Mr. Hauer's career- that honor may well belong to his slideshow-esque appearance in the RAMBO III video game (1989) when he had nothing to do with any RAMBO film... Anyway, THE BLOOD OF HEROES:

"People no longer remembered the Golden Age of the 20th Century. They didn't remember the miraculous technology or the cruel wars that followed. They didn't remember when Juggers first played The Game or how it came to be played with a dog skull..."

Now, for being a movie which, even on DVD, has been given all the tender loving care of a faded, murky, full-screen battered VHS, THE BLOOD OF HEROES is shockingly classy. One of the first things to set it apart from its fourth-rate, MAD MAX-inspired brethren is an enchanting, mystical score by Todd Bokelheide (HEARTS OF DARKNESS: A FILMMAKER'S APOCALYPSE, BALLETS RUSSES). Kind of like post-civilization Bernard Herrmann, the work is punctuated by primal drums and creative, peculiar percussion. It's an epic, intriguing, and mysterious soundtrack, and that's just the sort of thing this film requires- it's easy for your skeptical mind to take the film seriously when, on some level, your gut already is.

Now the aesthetic here is definitely on the same page as MAD MAX- BEYOND THUNDERDOME (not to mention that it was filmed in Australia and features MAD MAX actors like Max Fairchild, and can I say 'Max' any more in this sentence?), and it's blood, sand, leather, corroded metal, and burlap sacks -to the max. Our story follows a team of impoverished Juggers as they fight their way through the rust belt bush leagues and on to the tournament of the 'Nine Cities'- the last vestige of wealth and culture- where bluebloods have hoarded supplies, amassed wealth, and buttressed their fortune with underground walls and towers to keep out the common rabble- unless, of course, they're prepared to compete at bloodsports for the richies' silk-stockinged amusement.

And, basically, in a barren, poverty-stricken world, Jugging is your only shot at upward mobility.

But the big question here, which I'm sure that you're finding yourself asking yourself is– WHAT IS JUGGING? Well, I'll tell you to the best of my ability. Okay. Two big dudes smack the shit out of each other with big hammer lookin' things- (think lacrosse sticks made from barbed wire?). Then a couple of other dudes whip razor chains at each other as more guys clobber each other with hooks and try to pin each other down. Then we got two diminutive running-back types (called 'qwiks') who pummel and thrash their way to the 'ball'- a dog skull- and then try to make it past each other and this chaotic shitstorm of hooks and chains and bludgeons and triumphantly thrust the dog skull onto a spike in the ground.

YAHHH

Then you win. Meanwhile, some jag-off is tossing stones against a gong or a piece of sheet metal, timing the whole thing.

The longer you last, the more impressive Juggers you are. Then the Juggers bond afterward. The winners get to keep the dog skull, and sometimes the hosting town buys them a round of drinks. No hard feelings. Everybody's gotta earn a living.

If you're a fan of these sorts of films like I clearly am, you can see that the possibilities for heroics, brutality, and sheer ridiculousness are sky high. This is my kind of sports movie.


More THE SEVENTH SEAL than THE KARATE KID, actually.

Rutger Hauer, as 'Sallow,' leads our heroic band of dust bowl gladiators.

He used to play in the Nine Cities, but now he's a washed-up P.O.S. with a bum eye, a bad attitude, and a lotta regrets. His squad includes 'Young Gar' (Vincent D'Onofrio), the screw-up kid with a heap of raw talent:

'Big Cimber' (Anna Katarina), a stern, ass-kickin' lady; 'Mbulu' (Delroy Lindo), the crusty veteran:

and Dog-Boy (Justin Monjo), the qwik. But when Dog-Boy is hideously injured, a local peasant gal who's short on brawn but long on moxie (played, naturally, by Joan Chen) steps into the ring.

Joan later said of THE BLOOD OF HEROES, “I loved that movie. It was a big departure for me. The part wasn’t written for an Asian woman. The part was actually written for a rugged, Amazonian-type woman. I am actually kind of short and small, but they changed it for me.”


Rutger Hauer: "I like scars."
Joan Chen: "..."

Rutger's up to his old tricks and exuding sheer forcefulness of presence- narrowing his eyes, pursing his lips nearly to the point of blowing homoerotic air-kisses,

and believably thumping the shit out of his opponents.

A head butt may be forthcoming.

Joan Chen takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'. She even gets to bite some poor sap's ear off.

PFFT-TOOO!

But, on the whole, the proceedings are surprisingly low key, even restrained, and this actually works in the film's favor. The team heads to the Nine Cities, where there's fights, romance, old friends, grudges, fixers, cheaters, and creepy pasty rich people who get a little thrill out of licking Jugger blood. Richard Norton (GYMKATA, THE OCTAGON) even shows up as a shitkicker named 'Bone.'

Bone reporting for duty.

I'm not gonna reveal how it all turns out, but it gets downright Medieval. Its scope becomes smaller than you'd think, as well– it's not an epochal tale about freedom fighters toppling an evil regime, or however this story would usually be told- it's an intimate look at stoic gang of tough guys ('n gals) who kick some serious ass. Hell, I'll call it the best sport movie since THE RUNNING MAN. But then it just ends. Abruptly. The closing credits begin to roll over the final scene of the movie– what? What is this, a Chabrol film? Some cursory research turned up some answers- apparently, this is a somewhat truncated version. And somewhere out there exists a fourteen-minute longer version from Japan (called by fans, I shit you not, "THE GRAIL OF THE JUGGER") which fleshes out the denouement in a little more detail. Regardless, this is an excellent film, and one that I wholeheartedly recommend not only to futuristic bloodsport movie fans, but to Hauer/Chen aficionados, as well.

And to serious connoisseurs of whappin' and boppin'.

Four stars.

-Sean Gill

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