This message from Frank Stallone resonates even more than ever.
Enjoy!
This message from Frank Stallone resonates even more than ever.
Enjoy!
Today’s scene that I love comes from 1972’s The Godfather, in which Al Pacino plays Michael Corleone. In this scene, Michael, having just taken over the Corleone family, pays a visit to Vegas. He meets his brother Fredo (John Cazale), who has certainly changed from being the meek person that he was in New York. He meets the singer Johnny Fontana (Al Martino), who owes a favor to the Corleones. And he meets Moe Greene (Alex Rocco), who soon discovers that the Corleones cannot be intimidated. Most importantly, Michael proves that he is now in charge of the family. At the end of the scene, Michael gives Fredo an important warning and sets up the tragic ending of the The Godfather Part II.
4 Shots From 4 Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films is all about letting the visuals do the talking.
This edition of 4 Shots From 4 Films is all about the grindhouse.
4 Shots From 4 Grindhouse Films
The Lenny Kravitz version of American Woman is a hundred times better than the Guess Who version. I know that some people have criticized Kravitz for stripping away the film’s political subtext but I’ve listened to the original song and the politics were dumb.
Enjoy!

“I do know the difference between dying for something and dying for nothing.” — Jake Grafton
There is a difference between knowing how to fly into danger and knowing what that danger is supposed to accomplish. That gap gives Flight of the Intruder its most interesting material. John Milius’s 1991 war film follows men who trust their training, their aircraft, and each other far more than they trust the decisions sending them into combat. Adapted from Stephen Coonts’s novel of the same name, it mixes a story of wartime disillusionment with an old-fashioned action adventure. Those two sides do not always fit together, but the friction gives this uneven movie more personality than a routine military thriller.
Brad Johnson plays Lieutenant Jake Grafton, a Navy pilot flying an A-6 Intruder during the Vietnam War. When his bombardier is killed on a mission against a seemingly worthless target, Grafton begins questioning the purpose behind the daily cycle of takeoffs, bombing runs, and dangerous returns. He is not afraid of doing his job. He is angry that doing it well might make no difference. That distinction gives the character an accessible emotional foundation. Even when the screenplay pushes him toward predictable acts of rebellion, his initial frustration feels like something more substantial than the usual action hero’s dislike of authority.
The film’s central idea is that Grafton needs to recover a sense of purpose, but it gets into trouble when it starts treating that need as its own justification. His answer is an unauthorized strike against a missile depot in Hanoi, undertaken with veteran bombardier Virgil Cole. It is an exciting premise because the mission carries both military danger and personal consequences. As an answer to Grafton’s disillusionment, though, it feels suspiciously convenient. The movie raises difficult questions about waste and obedience, then suggests that choosing a better target might settle them. The action becomes clearer just as the thinking becomes fuzzier.
Johnson gives Grafton a restrained, earnest quality that generally suits the role. He looks comfortable playing someone who expresses himself more easily through work than conversation. That reserve helps sell the character’s professionalism, although it also limits the emotional impact of scenes that need him to reveal more. There are moments when Grafton seems less like a man struggling with grief than a leading man waiting for the next plot development. Johnson is never a fatal weakness, but he does not consistently provide the intensity needed to make every stage of Grafton’s transformation feel fully earned.
Willem Dafoe is much more immediately engaging as Cole. He brings an unpredictable edge that keeps their partnership from becoming a simple arrangement between an inexperienced hothead and a wise veteran. Cole has experience, certainly, but Dafoe makes that experience look potentially dangerous rather than automatically reassuring. His confidence suggests someone who has spent enough time around death to develop an unusual relationship with it. That gives his scenes with Johnson a welcome tension. Grafton wants reassurance that his anger means something, while Cole seems ready to turn that anger into action without offering much comfort about the consequences.
Danny Glover gives the movie another useful source of resistance as commanding officer Frank Camparelli. His job is partly to stand between frustrated men and the decisions they might make when frustration takes over. Glover brings enough authority to prevent Camparelli from feeling like a cardboard obstacle placed in the heroes’ path. You can understand why Grafton resents restrictions while also recognizing that somebody has to think beyond the emotional needs of one crew. The film is more interesting whenever it allows that disagreement to remain unresolved. It becomes less interesting when military discipline is treated mainly as something adventurous men must work around.
Once the aircraft leave the carrier, the movie becomes noticeably more assured. The cockpit sequences give the action a sense of process: these men have equipment to manage, threats to interpret, and very little time to make decisions. That practical detail makes the danger engaging. Instead of relying entirely on spectacle, the better scenes build suspense around what the crews can see, what they cannot see, and how quickly their situation might change. Some effects have aged better than others, but the flying still supplies the film’s strongest argument for watching it. Competence under pressure remains compelling even when the visuals look dated.
The ground-level material is considerably patchier. Drinking, banter, and romantic interludes are meant to show what these men do with the time between missions, but too much of it feels borrowed from other military movies. The romantic subplot involving Rosanna Arquette is especially thin, offering a softer side of Grafton without developing much emotional momentum of its own. These scenes should make the next flight matter more by showing what exists outside the cockpit. Instead, they sometimes make you impatient for another launch. The issue is not that a combat film needs constant action; its quieter moments simply need more individuality.
Milius is better at conveying loyalty than examining the assumptions behind it. The bonds between the aviators have weight, and the later rescue-centered action draws real energy from their refusal to abandon one another. Yet the film’s perspective stays narrow. Vietnamese lives remain largely outside its emotional focus, while American courage receives sustained attention. That imbalance matters because the story wants its heroes’ frustration to carry moral significance, not merely dramatic interest. It understands how war damages these men, but seems less curious about what their determination might cost anyone else. The result is emotionally direct without being especially searching.
By the end, Flight of the Intruder has made a stronger case for the men’s devotion to each other than for the decisions they make. That is both its saving grace and its limitation. Dafoe’s sharp presence, Glover’s authority, and the tense flying sequences give it enough substance to remain watchable through the slower stretches. Still, the film keeps reaching for complicated questions and accepting action-movie answers. It is worth seeing as an imperfect combat adventure, especially for its cockpit tension, but its most revealing moments occur when skill and courage stop being enough—when getting home safely cannot explain why the mission mattered.
Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Mondays, I will be reviewing CHiPs, which ran on NBC from 1977 to 1983. The entire show is currently streaming on Prime!
This week, we learn about pocket bikes.
Episode 6.16 “Fox Trap”
(Dir by Charles Bail, originally aired on February 20th, 1983)
Bernard DeJardine (George Chakiris) and his wife Camille (Judith Baldwin) are jewel thieves planning to use “pocket bikes” for their next heist. Pocket bikes are tiny miniature motorcycles, the kind you’d usually expect to see a chimpanzee riding at a circus. They’re fast and ultra-maneuverable, and the rider has to kind of squat down to use them. They let you look like a total dork while fleeing from the police.
Can Ponch, Bobby, and Bruce stop the DeJardines? No, they can’t. The DeJardines pull off their heist. However, because they previously got a parking ticket, Bobby and Ponch are able to track them down to their home. Ponch and Bobby arrest them and act really impressed with themselves, despite the fact that we previously saw them unable to stop two adults on minibikes. Ponch, Bobby—you got nothing to brag about, ya mooks!
Meanwhile, the Cadillac Foxes are a girl band who think their sleazy manager, Jerry King (Terry Kiser), is going to take them on a tour of Hong Kong. Instead, he’s planning on selling them to some sex traffickers. Luckily, Bruce pulls up Jerry’s criminal record and sees that he has a record for .… well, selling people to sex traffickers. Apparently, Jerry can only think of one way to make money and he’s going to stick with it, no matter how often he gets arrested. Fortunately, Ponch and Bruce track down Jerry and the Cadillac Foxes while they’re on the way to the airport.
Of course, when the Cadillac Foxes perform at a club, they bring up Ponch so he can sing a song with them. Woo hoo! There’s nothing I love more than going to hear a band perform and instead having to listen to a cop sing.
Finally, Grossman goes on a game show. Unfortunately, he loses the big prize when he’s asked a question about the Miranda ruling. Seeing that Grossman is a cop, I’m not sure he should have been asked that question to begin with because he would have an unfair advantage. But apparently, Grossman isn’t a very good cop because he can’t even remember the right to remain silent. Anyway, as usual, Grossman is humiliated and everyone at the station has a good laugh at his expense.
This show is just getting sillier and sillier.
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Mondays, I will be reviewing Crime Story, which ran on NBC from 1986 to 1988. The entire show can be found on Tubi!
It’s Torello’s birthday!
Episode 2.6 “Robbery, Armed”
(Dir by James Quinn, originally aired on November 10th, 1987)
While celebrating Torello’s birthday at a Vegas restaurant, Danny has a chance encounter with Stark (Mark Margolis), a Chicago hitman, in the men’s room. Danny and Stark recognize each other. Stark shoots Danny and flees. While Danny fights for his life, Torello and the members of the Task Force pursue Stark and his cronies as they try to pull off the casino heist of the… well, the month, I guess. Seriously, it seems like a casino is always getting heisted on this show.
Eh. This episode. Last week, Luca came back to Vegas and, quite frankly, that’s what I’m interested in. If the story is not centered around Luca and his battle with Torello, I really don’t care. This episode allowed us to see how obsessive Torello is and also how devoted the members of the Task Force are to each other, but that’s nothing new. Torello’s always been one bad day away from just shooting everyone he sees.
At the end of the episode, after Stark has been killed, there’s an interesting moment where Torello mentions that he and Stark share a birthday. And now, one of them is alive and one of them is dead. Detective Walter Clemmons (Paul Butler), the most underused member of the Task Force, says that means that, next year, one of them will have a birthday and one of them won’t. Torello laughs. He likes the sound of that. Torello’s going crazy, by the way.
Finally, Danny survives being shot. Good for him.
This entire episode reminded me of one of those old “Top Ten Wild Police Chases” shows where the cops would be chasing some guy who had nearly run down another cop and the narrator would go, “And when it’s one of their own, these cops aren’t going to stop until they catch their man.” When it’s one of their own, the Organized Crime Task Force goes all out to shoot everyone.

“The value of Pork Chop is that it’s worth nothing.” — Lieutenant Joe Clemons
Lewis Milestone’s Pork Chop Hill (1959) is the kind of war movie that makes taking an objective look a lot less impressive than surviving it. There is no beautiful prize waiting at the summit, just torn-up ground, exhausted soldiers, and the possibility of another attack. Starring Gregory Peck as Lieutenant Joe Clemons, the film follows an American company ordered to retake a Korean hill while armistice negotiations grind along elsewhere. Its central question is uncomfortable: what happens when military courage gets put to work defending something that matters mostly because neither side wants to admit it doesn’t?
What makes the movie stick is its refusal to separate the soldiers’ bravery from the futility of their situation. These men can perform extraordinary acts without making the larger operation seem sensible. Milestone doesn’t treat that contradiction as something a stirring speech can clear up. Instead, it hangs over the fighting, making every bit of progress feel provisional. You can admire the men struggling up the slope while wondering why anyone should have to climb it. That tension gives Pork Chop Hill its bite: respect for the people doing the fighting never requires unquestioning respect for the decisions keeping them there.
Peck is a strong choice for Clemons because his authority feels practical rather than flashy. He gives the film a steady center without turning the lieutenant into a superhero who can personally fix a collapsing operation. Clemons has to keep people moving, work out what is happening, and hold together a force being steadily worn down. The performance works best as a portrait of leadership reduced to immediate responsibilities. Grand strategy is somebody else’s department; keeping the next position from being overrun is his. Peck’s restraint fits a film interested less in heroic posing than in the exhausting work behind survival.
Woody Strode provides an especially valuable counterweight as Private Franklin, a soldier who has no interest in dying to prove a point about Korea. Strode gives Franklin’s resistance an angry, defensive edge that makes him more interesting than a stock soldier who loses his nerve. His physical presence makes the contrast striking: looking powerful does not mean feeling willing to sacrifice yourself. When Franklin confronts Clemons, the clash brings the movie’s larger questions down to a painfully personal level. Why should this particular man give his life for this particular hill? Strode makes that question feel urgent rather than abstract.
Franklin’s bitterness also carries a racial dimension. His reference to the conditions he lives in back home complicates any easy appeal to patriotism: he is being asked to risk everything for a country whose treatment of him gives him reasons to feel alienated. The film ultimately steers him toward solidarity with the other soldiers, and Clemons answers his objections by emphasizing their shared danger and hardship. That resolution is not entirely satisfying, since it moves past Franklin’s specific grievances rather quickly. Still, Strode gives the character enough wounded pride and frustration that his objections remain worth considering even after the story pushes him back into the fight.
Milestone’s handling of combat has a nuts-and-bolts quality. Movement, communication, reinforcement, and relief become matters of life and death rather than background details. Orders do not automatically produce results, and information moving away from the battlefield does not necessarily describe what is actually happening there. The film makes the gap between the front line and higher command feel dangerous in itself. A position can look secure to someone elsewhere while the men occupying it know they are barely hanging on. That disconnect is more unsettling than a straightforward story about one obviously foolish officer making one obviously disastrous decision.
Most importantly, Pork Chop Hill doesn’t flinch from the meat grinder. Its violence matters through accumulation: men disappear from the fighting strength, exhaustion builds, and holding the same battered ground becomes harder. This isn’t simply a matter of whether an older film shows enough blood for modern tastes. The horror comes from the sense that human beings are being fed into an argument that has no natural stopping point. The enemy loudspeaker adds another ugly layer, reminding the Americans that they may die for a position being debated by people safely removed from it. Psychological pressure becomes part of the battlefield’s machinery.
The trap extends to both sides, even though the film’s emotional viewpoint stays firmly with the Americans. Chinese troops are also being committed to a struggle whose importance comes from what possession supposedly proves. That distinction matters. The movie does not offer an equally intimate portrait of both armies, but its political framework suggests a shared predicament: soldiers must keep paying because their leaders cannot afford to look unwilling to pay. The hill becomes a test of determination, and every sacrifice helps create the justification for another. It is a brutal circular argument, carried out with artillery and infantry instead of words.
The ceasefire negotiations make that argument especially bitter. Rather than presenting the fighting and diplomacy as separate activities, the film shows how closely they are connected. Leaders understand that the hill’s importance is not really in the ground itself. What matters is whether surrendering it might weaken their position at the negotiating table or suggest that their willingness to fight has run out. Neither side wants to blink. Peace is being discussed while men are being asked to demonstrate that the war could continue, which gives the battle an almost unbearable absurdity. The prospect of an agreement does not stop the killing; it helps explain its immediate purpose.
There is an important historical qualification here. The film dramatizes the April 1953 fighting, not the later July battle that ended with American withdrawal. The battles became controversial because of the casualties incurred over terrain widely described as having little or no strategic or tactical value. Still, “worthless” needs a little unpacking: the hill could lack meaningful military value while acquiring symbolic importance in negotiations. That does not make the losses easier to justify. It explains how commanders could recognize the ground’s limited usefulness and nevertheless insist that abandoning it would carry consequences beyond the battlefield.
As a movie, Pork Chop Hill is strongest when it lets that contradiction emerge through the soldiers’ immediate problems. Its matter-of-fact approach can feel emotionally spare, and viewers looking for extensive personal histories may find its concentration on the operation limiting. But that narrowness also has force. The men’s lives have been compressed into getting forward, finding support, maintaining contact, and lasting long enough to be relieved. Strode’s scenes puncture that operational focus just enough to remind us that each soldier brings his own reasons for resisting or accepting what is demanded of him. These are people, not simply a dwindling number on a commander’s report.
For all its toughness, Pork Chop Hill never makes toughness look like much of a reward. What stays with you is the sheer effort required to get through another stretch of fighting, followed by the realization that surviving it may simply mean being available for the next attack. Peck’s grounded authority, Strode’s simmering resistance, and Milestone’s stripped-down approach make that experience compelling without making it inviting. It’s a gripping war film, but not a comfortable one to cheer along with. By the time it is over, who holds the hill feels less important than how many men have been used up proving that neither side will let it go.