Film Review: ROCKY IV (1985, Sylvester Stallone)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 91 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew: Sylvester Stallone, Brigitte Nielsen (RED SONJA, COBRA), Talia Shire (THE GODFATHER, OLD BOYFRIENDS), Burt Young (CHINATOWN, ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA), Dolph Lundgren (UNIVERSAL SOLDIER, MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE), Carl Weathers (PREDATOR, ACTION JACKSON), Tony Burton (THE SHINING, THE BLACK GODFATHER), James Brown as "The Godfather of Soul."  Mr. T and Burgess Meredith in archival footage.  Featuring the song "Double or Nothing," by Kenny Loggins.

Best one-liner: "Get ready for the next world war."

ROCKY IV.  The Cannon Film that never was.  That's sort of my thesis statement, anyway.  And it fits– it's closer to COBRA in every regard than it is to ROCKY I or II.  Written and directed by The Stallion himself, it is a pure, uncut, and punch-blasting rumination on the Cold War, probably the best since FAIL-SAFE or THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD.  At least it's the best one that co-stars Carl Weathers.    

Anyway, this movie's been discussed to death by plenty of others, but I'd like to offer my own humble observations into the mix.  So let's look at a few of the little things I like best about ROCKY IV.  What the hell.

#1.  Vanity plates.  If you recall, Marion "Cobra" Cobretti had one:  "AWESOM 50."  Rocky Balboa's is "SOTHPAW," because he's left-handed.  

Now, here's my question:  would "SOUTHPAW" not fit, or does "SOTHPAW" represent one of Rocky's poignant (but mostly hilarious) battles with literacy?  Or does it represent a member of the production's poignant battle with literacy?  The character of Rocky has changed so much by this time, however (he's basically 'Cobra,' now as I've mentioned), that the literacy Public Service Announcement from ROCKY II seems long-forgotten.  

#2.  Dolph Lundgren.

Where everyone else has put forth their own thoughts on "If he dies, he dies" and "I MUST BREAK YOU!," etc., etc., I'd like to draw some attention to Dolph's flattened coiffure, and the fact that he was dating Grace Jones at the time (after starting off as her bodyguard).  

He's such a blank, one-dimensional villain, that he might as well be a live action video game boss.  So given this less-than-rich source material, what did Dolph infuse his performance with?  Allow me to float the idea that Ivan Drago– "I MUST BREAK YOU," haircut, killer punches, and all– could very well be based on Grace "Queen Bitch Jungle Mother of New York" Jones.  At least I hope.

#3.  Also, I love that Rocky puts a little pin-up of Drago on his bureau mirror, FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF CRUMPLING IT LATER.

#4.  The bizarre editing.

There's montage after montage here, and I'll use one in particular as an example.  Rocky hops into his car, revs the engine, and drives into the dark, dark night, mourning times gone by, and meditating upon the existential menace of Ivan Drago.  We get Lynchian flashes of Drago, starkly lit against the darkness. We flash sporadically between shots of Drago and the car, as if there's an absolute madman in the edit room.  It made me think of the insanely edited montages in COBRA (where it was flashes of the axe-wielding gang instead of Ivan Drago!), which got me thinking.  While both movies do have co-editor Don Zimmerman in common, I get the idea that Stallone himself– being the auteur, and all– was in the edit-room, micro-managing the hell out of all of it and preserving his vision.  Which conjures a second question:  was he 'in character' as Rocky when he did it?

#5.  Apollo Creed's entrance.  

I love Carl Weathers.

Getting to see him prance about in an Uncle Sam costume in front of a papier-mache bull while Fosse dancers and showgirls alike cavort on a stage with fire and glitter and James Brown–

–yes, I said James Brown–  well, in short, it's something to behold.  Which leads me to– *spoiler alert*

#6.  Apollo Creed's death.

You know, I hate to see Carl Weathers go.  And he's giving it his all in this scene.  Then there's Stallone, throwing a towel in slow motion and doing that one kind of sad, kind of dazed, mouth-agape look that he does when he's required to show emotion.  Let's just say that if I were a lot drunker and 12 years old, this scene could have been imbued with a tragic beauty.

#7.  You know what would be cooler than Rocky climbing the steps at the Philadelphia Art Museum and raising his fists in triumph?

How'd he get up there anyway?  I don't see any grappling hooks or anything.  Also– maybe this is where Stallone got the inspiration for CLIFFHANGER?

#8. Brigitte Nielsen.

Again, this should be an honorary Cannon Film.  First Stallone (OVER THE TOP, COBRA), then Dolph (MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE), and now Brigitte Nielsen (COBRA).  She's sort of a stock Communist villain here, which means she mostly delivers icy stares punctuated by the occasional asshole sneer.  She's not too bad– but then again, she's not given the chance to pose and lark about with high-fashion robots.  Which is sort of sad, I think.  Nope, there's not even a single robot in sight.  No robots here.  None at all.

#9.  The Robot.

Had you going for a second there, didn't I?  Of course there's a robot.  He wrote 'em into COBRA for a reason, too.  What that reason was, I'll suspect we'll never know, though I can't help but wonder if it involved the mad typing of deadline frenzy as Sly hid in the basement from Brigitte Nielsen and imagined a better life: one with more robots.  Anyway, Stallone gave birth to SICO the Robot, who makes his first appearance as a birthday present from Rocky to Paulie (Burt Young).  SICO makes some gender shifts throughout (with the intent, I imagine, of eliciting laffs), delivers cakes, dances in the driveway, offers telephones, cleans up the aftermath of Redi-Whip shenanigans, and roots for the USA in international sporting events.  I can't even begin to describe how oddly out-of-place this feels in a ROCKY movie.  But I guess robots were the "new normal" for ROCKY movies in 1985.  SICO reminds me a little more of BB in DEADLY FRIEND than Johnny 5 in SHORT CIRCUIT or R2-D2 as it were, if we're talking marketable movie robots of the era here.  But that didn't stop him from touring with James Brown throughout the 80s.  I did a real-life spit-take when I read that.  Apparently SICO had his own Screen Actors' Guild card, too.  Pretty terrific.  Here's a video of SICO's first appearance:

HAPPY-BIRTH-DAY-PAUL-IE.  I love how quickly and stiltedly he says that line, and how it matches rhythmically with the awesome synth music.  And SICO is not some gimmicky, throwaway moment– he becomes a bona fide supporting character.  Plus, there's the line, "Yo, can you turn your robot down, please?"

#10.  Gorbachev slow clap.  So it's the end of the film, and Rocky is giving an inspirational speech about East-West relations.  There's already been a Gorbachev look-a-like (minus the birthmark) present in the arena, and I was struck with the thought that the only thing that could make this scene better is if Gorbachev nods his head in appreciation, slowly comes to his feet, claps once, claps twice, claps a third time, and then legitimately starts a barrage of clapping and nodding his head in a slow burn of enthusiasm, prompting everyone else to start clapping and nodding their heads in appreciation of Rocky's Philly-streets wisdom.

AND THEN IT HAPPENED!  

Amen, Rocky, Amen!  Four Berlin Wall-felling stars.

-Sean Gill

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Film Review: GO GO TALES (2007, Abel Ferrara)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 96 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Willem Dafoe (BODY OF EVIDENCE), Matthew Modine (VISION QUEST, FULL METAL JACKET), Bob Hoskins (THE LONG GOOD FRIDAY, THE COTTON CLUB), Sylvia Miles (MIDNIGHT COWBOY, THE SENTINEL), Asia Argento (TRAUMA, MOTHER OF TEARS), Burt Young (ROCKY, ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA), Stefania Rocca (THE CARD PLAYER, THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY), Anita Pallenberg (BARBARELLA, DILLINGER IS DEAD), Shanyn Leigh (PUBLIC ENEMIES, MARY), Roy Dotrice (AMADEUS, SUBURBAN COMMANDO), Joseph Cortese (AMERICAN HISTORY X, WINDOWS), Pras (of The Fugees). Soundtrack in association with Grace Jones.
Tag-line: "Un film di Abel Ferrara."
Best one-liner: "You can't put the dog in my gourmet kitchen!"

Described by its director as his first "international screwball comedy" and a mash-up of THE KILLING OF A CHINESE BOOKIE and CHEERS, GO GO TALES is indeed an absurdly funny film, (it seems that Abel and Werner Herzog, at odds though they may be over the BAD LIEUTENANT 'remake,' are becoming the 21st Century's top purveyors of comedy and Willem Dafoe) but one which also strikes the seasoned Ferrara fan as an intimate self-portrait, full of melancholy and a yearning for simpler, scuzzier times. We're witnessing a world in transition; one with a smaller and smaller place in it for the scatterbrained, non-tech-savvy sleazemeister (here embodied by Dafoe's "Ray Ruby"). Ferrara himself, like many a gritty 70's NYC director, began rather modestly with pornographic films (NINE LIVES OF A WET PUSSY), simple exploitation (THE DRILLER KILLER, MS. 45), and even chronicled the Times Square strip club culture (FEAR CITY) in its pre-Giuliani heyday. But recently, despite cult followings and international successes, it seems he can't even get arrested in America. In a way, thank God that the Europeans have swooped in as his sometime patrons, but fuck the American 'indie' studio system for not allowing significant distribution or funding for a legendary filmmaker who, unlike so many of his contemporaries, has continued to generate that creative, envelope-pushing spark after nearly forty years in the business.

And so Dafoe's Ray Ruby finds himself living on the edge. Hand to mouth, hand to mouth, hand to mouth to lottery ticket.

His strip club, his brainchild, his life's work, his "Paradise Lounge" ...is in trouble. His brother (played with élan by a a moptopped, pompous Matthew Modine), a Staten Island hair salon mogul and the almighty supplier of finances, is threatening to pull the plug.

"The plug is pulled. Paradise is over!"

This delights to no end the vitriolic New Yawwk landlady (Sylvia Miles in one of her finest, meanest performances) who's been waiting in the wings, ready to sell the place out "to Bed, Bath, and Beyond, motherfuckers, on a ninety-nine year lease!"

"BED, BATH, AND BEYOND!!! BED, BATH, AND BEYOND!!!"

But Ray must shoulder some of the blame- after all, he's poured all of his profits into a dangerous lottery addiction ("I played the lottery- I mean, I REALLY PLAYED IT!"), has made some foolish investments ("Frisbees with my face on 'em, I don't know what I was thinking") and has lost money over his soft spot for struggling artists (seen in an incredible, tour de force sequence that can only be described as 'Talent Show Nite' at the strip club).

All is not lost, however, when Ray actually wins the lotto, but in the midst of his inveterate, notorious disorganization, he can't find the ticket!

It's Abel's plea to the heavens- actual, sort of quaint sleaziness has been hijacked by the corporate version of sleaziness! Is nothing sacred? You've taken everything else, are you gonna take TIMES SQUARE, too? Yes, they will. And they did. By the time Ray's business is being redirected and stolen by a doofus in a crustacean mascot costume, Ferrara's exasperation has become completely tangible. Go ahead, Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Just take it all away. I've got nothing to live for anymore.

Unfolding over the course of one night, and with an Altman-style, observational, roaming camera (which captures the life which teems upon and outside of its frame), Ferrara captures the best sort of comedy- the unforced kind, the kind that's true to life. Even at it's most outrageous, the laughs here don't feel planned or even like 'jokes,' they feel like the natural outpourings of characters whose lives (from afar, of course) happen to be hilarious. The musician Pras wanders about as the club's resident 'chef,' obsessed with the gourmet artistry of his (microwaved) free range hot dogs,


Pras witnesses the ignominious end of his organic, free range, gourmet hot dogs.

an ancient Burt Young receives awkward lap dances, a robust, gravel-voiced Bob Hoskins lauds the respectability of the joint, tanning beds catch fire, a Eurotrash stripper (Stefania Rocca) wrangles the greenlighting of her script during a private dance ("Sign da check! Sign da check!"), Matthew Modine plays a toy piano and performs a mind-blowing musical number,

and Willem Dafoe even croons a ballad with a debonair suavitude and creepy flourish seldom seen since the glory days of the Rat Pack.

All this, and I didn't even get to Asia Argento yet! I'm reasonably certain that her performance as the "scariest, sexiest girl in the world" is entirely improvised and her free-form poledancing/make-out session with a terrifying dog is easily the most startlingly outré incident to be captured on celluloid in years.

Yes, GO GO TALES is insane, and, yes, it rambles. It induces spit-takes, eye-pops, raised brows, and as Sylvia Miles' psychotic end credits song (about Bed, Bath, and Beyond) attests, it even draws a comparison with STREET TRASH. Most importantly, however, it's sincere. Five stars. Abel: may you always find new, disorderly, and innovative ways to make these maniacal movies of yours. Distributors: shame on you for not picking this film up during the four years it's been available. Willem Dafoe: take it easy, take it breezy... and take it sleazy.


-Sean Gill

EDIT: Apparently the release was also held up by a legal dispute concerning screenplay credit.

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Film Review: VAMP (1986, Richard Wenk)

Stars: 4.5 of 5.
Running Time: 93 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Chris Makepeace (MY BODYGUARD, MEATBALLS), Robert Rusler (NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2, WEIRD SCIENCE, THRASHIN'), Gedde Watanabe (SIXTEEN CANDLES, GREMLINS 2), Sandy Baron (TARGETS, THE OUT-OF-TOWNERS), Dedee Pfeiffer (FALLING DOWN, INTO THE NIGHT), Grace Jones (CONAN THE DESTROYER, A VIEW TO A KILL), Billy Drago (MYSTERIOUS SKIN, THE UNTOUCHABLES, DELTA FORCE 2). Music by Jonathan Elias (CHILDREN OF THE CORN, TUFF TURF). Cinematography by Elliot Davis (SHAKES THE CLOWN, OUT OF SIGHT) and Douglas F. O'Neons (director of TEXAS GODFATHER, camera op on BAD BOYS, CHATO'S LAND).
Tag-line: "The first kiss could be your last."
Best one-liner: "Do they do that in Vegas? Whoa! That's classy, now that's classy!"

VAMP somehow expertly fuses so many disparate elements that I love about the 80's: the underground Lower Manhattan filmmaking vibe from director Richard Wenk (DRACULA BITES THE BIG APPLE); vibrant, garish lighting and evocative set design (á la Argento, Almodóvar, or even Susan Seidelman);

likable, occasionally witty, horror-comedy (like NIGHT OF THE CREEPS or PHANTASM II);

the 'long, endless night genre' (as seen in AFTER HOURS or MIRACLE MILE); and dopey, mainstream screwball comedy (the buying of friendship is a major plot point as is the presence of Gedde Watanabe- ‘Long Duk Dong’ in SIXTEEN CANDLES).

The champagne of beers.

As you can see, there are several worlds colliding in this flick, and the focal point of its candy-colored universe is a blood-curdling, utterly bonkers (and wordless!) performance by one Ms. Grace Jones, who is officially the scariest vampire since Max Schreck (…and until Michael Ironside). Perched on a headless, sculpted throne, daubed in white body paint, clad in a metal wire bikini (all three by NYC street artist Keith Haring!), and donning a fiery red wig, Jones is a striking vision of avant-garde terror.




"The guys at the fraternity are gonna love her!" shouts a perennial 80's toolbar (played by Robert Rusler)...Umm...WHAAAT?! Also, Jones is so severe in her commitment that it almost comes as a shock to see her in behind the scenes footage (also available on the DVD), laughing and goofing around. Her ability to divorce herself from her own celebrity and remain totally connected to this monstrous character is a true feat, though many would argue that the Ms. Jones herself is already pretty scary, as is.

At one point, she's referred to as "Queen Bitch," which may be the inspiration for a 2006 incident at a Delta Airlines party where the real-life Ms. Jones allegedly began stripping, proclaiming herself ""Queen Bitch Jungle Mother of New York!"

...Anyway, uh, I lost my train of thought. Billy Drago is in this, too.

He plays an exquisite 80's albino punk gang leader named "Snow" who brandishes a hunting knife and is the victim of an extended balls-grab low blow. We've got Sandy Baron playing a creepy, cockroach-snacking emcee. A charred skeleton musters the strength to flip the bird:

and it all basically ends with the statement, "This has been one whacky night." I love this movie.

[Side note: it's also most likely the inspiration for the latter half of Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino's 1996 stripper/vampire bar flick, FROM DUSK TILL DAWN.]

-Sean Gill

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