Film Review: THE MEN'S CLUB (1986, Peter Medak)

Stars: 2 of 5.

Running Time: 101 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew: Roy Scheider (JAWS, ALL THAT JAZZ), Frank Langella (FROST/NIXON, BRAINSCAN), Richard Jordan (DUNE '84, THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE), Craig Wasson (BODY DOUBLE, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET III: DREAM WARRIORS), Treat Williams (HAIR, DEAD HEAT), David Dukes (RAWHEAD REX, GODS AND MONSTERS), Stockard Channing (GREASE, SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION), Jennifer Jason Leigh (SHORT CUTS, SINGLE WHITE FEMALE).

Tag-line:  "The Breakfast Club.  The Big Chill.  And now The Men's Club."
Best one-liner:  Not really.

What is THE MEN'S CLUB?  I saw the damn thing, and I'm not sure I can tell you.  It feels like a play and reads like a block-headed sleazy macho paperback for yuppie dickheads, and yet is performed like a master's class in acting.  It sure doesn't have much in common with THE BREAKFAST CLUB or THE BIG CHILL, as the tag-line promises, though all three works involve groups of people talking to one another indoors about a variety of topics.

From the talented Peter Medak, director of THE RULING CLASS, THE CHANGELING, BREAKIN' THROUGH, and many other favorites of the Junta Juleil canon, comes the story of a group of professional and semi-professional philandering dudes who deliver monologues about how difficult their lives are.  Said dudes are portrayed by some of the finest actors of their generation, from Roy Scheider to Harvey Keitel to Frank Langella to Richard Jordan.  And they're giving it their all...(especially Scheider)... they just happen to be in THE MEN'S CLUB.

I can't really begin to describe THE MEN'S CLUB, nor do I really want to, but I can tell you about the few spectacular things that happen in it.

#1.  The Lee Holdridge soundtrack, which is spit-take inducingly fabulous.  Full of slap-happy slap bass, muted trumpets, wailing saxes, and smoove, easy listening grooves, I was sort of surprised that my walls didn't spontaneously sprout green felt and transform my apartment into a seedy, smoke-filled lounge where Malibu was consumed by the gallon and impromptu soft-core pornography shoots materialized out of thin air.  In short, I'm a little upset that the soundtrack has never received an official release.

#2.  How 'bout a Madame... with a frightening ventriloquist's dummy...

 
....who's peddling a young Jennifer Jason Leigh who's dolled up to sort of look like young Melanie Griffith?  I don't know what to tell you.


#3. I swear Harvey Keitel's contracts must include nudity in them.  They have to.  It's like how Van Damme's contracts must include splits and Burt Reynolds' must include bar-fights and Bronson's must have involved dummies plummeting from great heights. 

Anyway.

#4.  Frank Langella, reborn via midlife crisis into a suspender-wearing, post-80s New Wave makeup wearing-dude who looks like an extra from the Elton John "I'm Still Standing" music video.  I can't believe my eyes.


So there you have it– all the highlights of THE MEN'S CLUB without having to actually watch it.  Phew.

–Sean Gill

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Film Review: FLASHPOINT (1984, William Tannen)

Stars: 4.2 of 5.
Running Time: 94 minutes.
Tag-line: "A wrecked jeep.... A skeleton.... A rifle... $800,000 dollars in cash..."
Notable Cast or Crew: Treat Williams (DEAD HEAT, HAIR, PRINCE OF THE CITY), Kris Kristofferson (LONE STAR, BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA, PAYBACK), Rip Torn (EXTREME PREJUDICE, WILD 90), Kurtwood Smith (ROBOCOP, RAMBO III, THAT 70's SHOW), Kevin Conway (The 90's OUTER LIMITS, F.I.S.T.), Miguel Ferrer (Albert on TWIN PEAKS, ROBOCOP), and Jean Smart (PROJECT X, DESIGNING WOMEN). Music by Tangerine Dream. Written by the underrated Dennis Shryack and Michael Butler (CODE OF SILENCE, PALE RIDER, FIFTY/FIFTY) and based on the novel by George La Foutaine, Sr.
Best exchange: "Like my Daddy always said, 'If you can't get out of it, get into it.'" –"I thought your daddy used to say, 'If you can't fix it, fuck it.'" "He said that, too."

FLASHPOINT is a little known 80's gem from director William Tannen (Chuck Norris' HERO AND THE TERROR and Larry Cohen's DEADLY ILLUSION- not to be confused with F/X 2: THE DEADLY ART OF ILLUSION), who manages to toe the odd line between the sensibilities of Sam Peckinpah and Oliver Stone. I'll be careful not to disclose too much about the plot itself, but suffice it to say that two border patrol agents make a discovery in the desert (see the tag-line) which may or may not bring with it some overwhelming repercussions.


Frequently touted only as a JFK conspiracy flick, the film has significantly less to do with the assassination's cover-up than it does with the powers of the (capital S) System encroaching on the rights of its unwilling subjects. It has an anti-technology slant, to be sure, but only so far as in it is against technology's hijacking by the powers that be for use as, shall we say, a blunt instrument (our heroes frequently feign walkie-talkie malfunction to fleetingly slow the System's bureaucratic juggernaut, which threatens to replace them with robotic sensors).

Meet your replacement.

Orwell tells us "if [we] want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever..."

Well, who's moving to prevent that? In FLASHPOINT, its guys like the 'Nam vet Kris Kristofferson, who'd ordinarily like nothing more than to remain beneath the System's radar:

the intrepid Treat Williams, who believes that inner righteousness will see the storm through:

and the irascible Rip Torn, a sheriff (much like his character in 1987's EXTREME PREJUDICE; he even says the line "The only thing worse than a politician is a child molester," which he would use again with élan) whose hillbilly aphorisms and preference for sour mash disguise a tremendous understanding of the sheer scope of the System's various wheels and gears.

Representing the System is the reptilian Kurtwood Smith, a flag-pin wearin' creep who literally thanks God every day for drugs, murder, and subversion- the general pretenses for said boot stamping.

That oily devil.

Tangerine Dream supplies one of their best, ethereally pulsating scores (on par with RISKY BUSINESS and THE PARK IS MINE!); there's excellent bit parts by Kevin Conway and an always-snarky Miguel Ferrer:

Miguel Ferrer prepares to unleash a blistering remark that will both delight and appall.

there's a certain amount of levity and buddy-bonding:

("Which one you want?" "-The mean one." "You're a sick man."), and it all adds up to an understated thriller that's well worth your while. It's not action-packed by any means, but the payoffs are well-earned and quite satisfying. I'd even say that the mood of the picture has resonated onward and has certainly influenced films such as WHITE SANDS and NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN. A touch over four stars.

-Sean Gill

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