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Showing posts with label Michael Jackson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Jackson. Show all posts

Monday, March 26, 2012

Film Review: THE UNTOUCHABLES (1987, Brian de Palma)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 119 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Kevin Costner, Robert De Niro, Sean Connery, Charles Martin Smith (AMERICAN GRAFFITI, STARMAN), Andy Garcia (THE GODFATHER PART III, BLACK RAIN), Billy Drago (TREMORS 4, DELTA FORCE 2), Patricia Clarkson (THE GREEN MILE, THE WOODS), Jack Kehoe (SERPICO, MIDNIGHT RUN), Don Harvey (CREEPSHOW 2, DIE HARD 2). Screenplay by David Mamet, music by Ennio Morricone, cinematography by Stephen H. Burum (CARLITO'S WAY, RAISING CAIN, ARTHUR 2: ON THE ROCKS).
Tagline: "AL CAPONE. He ruled Chicago with absolute power. No one could touch him. No one could stop him. - Until Eliot Ness and a small force of men swore they'd bring him down."
Best one-liner: "Isn't that just like a wop? Brings a knife to a gun fight." (said in Sean Connery's Scottish brogue)

THE UNTOUCHABLES is a pretty solid flick. I saw it when I was rather young, and I remember it making quite an impression. Part buddy cop movie, part mobster epic, part Peckinpah-style shoot-'em-'up, part courtroom drama, part police procedural, part Sergei Eisenstein meets John Woo– it pretty much had it all. Initially I saw it because INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE had recently come out and it had launched a Sean Connery kick for me that never really did end, now that I think about it. I believe it may have been my first exposure to Brian de Palma and David Mamet, too. In the years hence, I know that Mamet has written works with greater depth and resonance than this, and I know that De Palma has made movies that are artsier and even more ludicrous, but it's nice to return to THE UNTOUCHABLES, like an old friend– an old friend with a reverb-heavy, kickass 80's Morricone soundtrack who luvs slo-mo squib action and disguising split-screen shots as ridiculous deep-focus shots.

Anyway, others, such as J.D. at Radiator Heaven, John Kenneth Muir, and Mr. Peel's Sardine Liqueur have pretty much said what needs to be said about the film in the realms of historical context, profundity, and classiness, so I suppose that instead of covering ground that's already been covered, I'll do what I am wont to do: leap headlong into the absurdity and minutiae of THE UNTOUCHABLES!

As such, I'll divide my observations into two parts: Drago-related, and non-Drago-related. The non-Drago-related section is gonna be pretty small, actually.

Non-Drago-Related Observations:

#1. Don Harvey.

Hey, look, guys– it's Don Harvey, handing Kevin Costner an axe! You remember Don Harvey, don't you? From DIE HARD 2 and CREEPSHOW 2? I've described him as proto-Peter Weller meets proto-Kevin Bacon, and hey– I like the guy. Nice to see you, Don.

#2. TENEBRE homage.

Oh, De Palma, I love ya. During a notable scene when Sean Connery is being stalked at his home, the camera shifts forward and backward, tracking across the exterior architecture, catching voyeuristic glimpses of Connery, and ending with a first-person P.O.V. of hands breaking into a window, just like the legendary crane shot in TENEBRE (which has nearly the exact same visuals, and ends with black-gloved hands wielding bolt-cutters to gain entrance to a window). Sure, it doesn't matter much in the long run, but it makes me kinda tingly when Argento gets a well-deserved salute. Unless said salute is being delivered by Diablo Cody. Or to Diablo Cody. Eh. Anyway, TENEBRE is notably referenced in RAISING CAIN, too.

#3. Connery's booze stash.

Throughout the film, my girlfriend was remarking that "there's no way Connery is sober during this," and I, not having seen the film in a dozen years or so, was saying "he's fighting alcohol bootleggers, let 'im total his tea." Anyway, during the sequence referenced in #2, Connery pulls a bottle o' contraband hooch out of his oven and has a snort. Also of note: Connery is apparently playing an Irish American with a Scottish accent, just as he played a Spaniard with a Scottish accent, and in the future would go on to play a Russian with a Scottish accent. A versatile fellow, he.


Drago-Related Observations:


Who is that terrifying, cheek-boney, crazy-eyed, thin white duke lurking in the shadows, there? Wait a minute, wait a minute... a sense memory is kicking in... could it be...

Holy shit, now the wheels are turning, ladies and gentlemen! "Smooth Criminal" was on BAD, released in late August 1987. THE UNTOUCHABLES was early June 1987. Could it be? Could the inspiration for "Smooth Criminal" be none other than ....BILLY DRAGO???


"As he came into the window, it was the sound of a crescendo"

"He left the bloodstains on the carpet"

"You've been hit by, you've been hit by, a smooth criminal"

And then, it turns out that Drago later appeared, in 2001, in a Michael Jackson video called "You Rock My World!" Is it possible that all of Jackson's surgeries involved wanting to be more like Billy Drago? Is MOONWALKER indirectly the result of Billy Drago's acting brilliance? Who is Annie? And more importantly, is she okay? So many unanswered questions.

But I believe I may have put the cart before the horse. Let me back up for a moment. Billy Drago, long beloved by this site, plays "Frank Nitti," the white-suit-clad doer of Al Capone's dirty-work. He blows up children, he skulks in the dark, he kills beloved characters, he makes thinly veiled threats and dons a devilish grin.


And he does it with style. That's Drago for ya. The man is one of a kind. Make no mistake about that. I may have alluded to other celebrities with "thin white duke," or "smooth criminal," or, hell, once I even called him "Scary Dean Stanton," but my point is this: you believe Drago, every step of the way. Here is an actor who connects with the material, brings it alive, even when he's bringing alive an attempted Chuck Norris makeout session. And by the time THE UNTOUCHABLES is over: you will believe a Drago can fly– (which again, returning to DELTA FORCE 2, appears to be a recurring career theme!)

...Amen.


-Sean Gill

Monday, February 7, 2011

Film Review: MOONWALKER (1988, Jerry Kramer, Colin Chivers, & Jim Blashfield)

Stars: 3.9 of 5.
Running Time: 93 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Michael Jackson, Joe Pesci, Sean Lennon, Kellie Parker, Brandon Quintin Adams (THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS, THE SANDLOT). Music by Michael Jackson, score by Bruce Broughton (THE MONSTER SQUAD, TOMBSTONE). Visual effects supervised by Hoyt Yeatman (THE ROCK, CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, THE ABYSS). Special effects supervised by Kevin Pike (INDIANA JONES AND THE TEMPLE OF DOOM, THE LAST STARFIGHTER). Claymation by Will Vinton (THE CALIFORNIA RAISINS, THE ADVENTURES OF MARK TWAIN). Written by Michael Jackson and David Newman (BONNIE AND CLYDE, SUPERMAN, WHAT'S UP DOC?).
Tag-line: "On his soul, a king of music. On his heart, a king of beats."
Best one-liner: "There, get him! Come on, get him! Kill him, KILL HIM! Let's see how cool he is now!"

As I watched this film, my mind grappled with the perverse concept that we live in a universe where MOONWALKER could, and does, actually exist. Ultimately, upon holding the physical disc in my hands, feeling the weight of it, and confirming that fact with nearby witnesses, I was forced to conclude that the preceding 93 minutes were no mere fever-dream, but in fact a very real encounter with a very real movie. But what is it, exactly? A sci-fi flick? A musical? An anthology piece? A biopic? An auto-biopic? ...A horror omnibus?

I would surely not call it a horror omnibus unequivocally, but consider the following images and then tell me that it is not a horror movie:







So, now that I've adequately shoehorned MOONWALKER to fit my horror omnibus series, let's look at the film proper: MOONWALKER is utter outlandishness, a collage of ego and confusion, a self-portrait of a man-child, and a bizarre paean to the films of Steven Spielberg. In a nutshell, it's E.T., PEE-WEE'S BIG ADVENTURE, TRANSFORMERS, RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, LISZTOMANIA, BACK TO THE FUTURE, and A HARD DAY'S NIGHT bundled together into a mélange masquerading as a Michael Jackson biopic.

As the film washes over you it relentlessly defies all rational thought, and as soon as your reeling brain has a tentative handle on any one of these peculiarities, a dozen more pop up to take its place, like so many moon-walking hydra heads:

Why are we crosscutting between Michael and Chernobyl, Mother Teresa, atomic bombs, Martin Luther King, and the Camp David Accords?


Why are there so many dogs in suits?


Why did claymation Michael Jackson just transform into claymation Tina Turner, and finally into claymation Pee-Wee Herman?


Why is it that the live-action approximations of creepy claymation are about 900 times scarier than the already creepy claymation?

And why is 'The Noid' there?! I hate The Noid!

Am I supposed to be thinking about HAUSU?


Why Texas?


Is that seriously a 'spider-wipe' transition?


Let me stop myself right there. Allow me to back up a moment and try to explain exactly what is happening here in one massive stream-of-consciousness run-on sentence hopefully worthy of William Faulkner:

Michael Jackson walks onto the screen, his feet tingling and sparkling, he performs in a series of concerts, crosscut with historical events and a fanciful best-of compilation that feels somehow as if MASTERPIECE THEATER were hijacked by the alien counterparts of the California raisins



and Michael is leading the troops off to battle but what battle and against who, it must be

electricity! do they seek to battle neon lightning? no matter

and then the rats descend and so many rats, rats! rats! rats!, but why? and


at least it made the papers, but
then the children with false facial hair are reenacting BAD, crotch grabs and all, and I am appalled but I am still watching


who's bad? they ask us
not I
I hope

and I get this same feeling when I am watching adults dressed as babies, dancing in diapers, why oh why?, you wish that I had never seen these things, but some things cannot be taken back, no matter how much you wish

and then child-Michael is man-Michael and he is chased by claymation hordes who want an autograph and perhaps a pound of flesh, but what is a pound of flesh to a creature made of clay? sprung and sculpted from the loins of the earth as it were,

and Michael is sincere, and Michael is happy, like a child, I have rarely seen such genuine happiness, and then he is a bunny, Michael is a claymation bunny, and he drives on and on, he escapes the Clay-parazzi, then divides with his bunny döppelganger, his bunnyganger, and they have a dance-off in Monument Valley (or is it that desert from the Looney Tunes?),

and Michael gets ticketed for dancing because there is no moonwalking allowed in the desert, it's bad for the plants but do not linger because

Michael is leading us on a tour of the tabloids, the carnival of his life, and Bubbles is in chains

we pass through the Elizabeth Taylor shrine, it frightens me, Liz, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and all that, and then dancing with the Elephant Man's bones, is that insensitive?, I wonder

(apologies to Joseph Merrick) but then he dismantles the funhouse of public perception and strides away like Gulliver, a titan amongst us mere Lilliputians, but suddenly Michael plays soccer with kids in a field, including Sean Lennon, and I wonder


who taught him to play soccer (football?), but the fun doesn't last long,

because they wander, Goonies-style, into a secret lair, the lair of Joe Pesci who likes bugs and drugs, bugs and drugs, bugs and drugs,

is that a ponytail or a cowlick, who cares he eats peanuts just the same

he has a master plan to write himself into the history books (getting kids high on bugs and drugs) but Michael stands in his way and for that he must die but Michael escapes the assassins' bullets and turns into a car (not a DeLorean) but it turns back time anyway because he IS the car, I suppose, and so it's the 1930's

and I guess the producers of Broadway's MEMPHIS were taking notes, detailed, detailed notes,

and we go into 'Smooth Criminal' and Michael crushes a cue ball with his bare hands

only dust remains

and then they dip in those patented shoes (not merely patent-leather, mind you, patented leather), you see Michael was an inventor, too, but the dancing doesn't last because Pesci naps a kid

he just wants to get everybody high, man, you know, some good drugs, bugs and drugs, bugs and drugs, but that doesn't fly with Michael, who is actually a giant robot who can fly (would have liked to have seen him in ROBOT JOX), and the heavens open, like when they open the ark in RAIDERS


and the transformation is complete and he lays waste to the armies of darkness (like the ark of the covenant) and then he flies back to outer space (like E.T.) and the children are crying

'Thank you, Michael!' they squeak from melancholy throats but it's not over till it's over and Michael comes back and takes them to a concert where he performs 'Come Together' which was a song by the Beatles, you remember who the Beatles are, don't you?,

and Sean Lennon righteously shakes glowsticks in time with the music and then there are three sets of closing credits because a lot of people worked on this movie and it goes on for about six minutes, and there is African folk music and some outtakes from 'Smooth Criminal' and then finally Michael winks at us, a knowing wink, because we know the secret now, the secret that he is a robot and the world is safe now because Pesci was exploded, safe from bugs and drugs, bugs and drugs and whatever else, forever and amen, the end.

-Sean Gill