In Bull Durham, Kevin Costner plays Crash Davis, a veteran catcher in the minor leagues who is brought onto the Durham Bulls so that he can teach a rookie pitcher, Ebby LaLoosh (Tim Robbins), how to play the game and also get him ready for his inevitable move to the major leagues. Also helping to get the dim-witted but sincere Ebby ready is Annie Savoy (Susan Sarandon), who worships at the Church of Baseball and who has an affair with a different player every season. The film follows the Bulls through their season, as both Crash and Annie mentor Ebby while also falling in love with each other. Ebby even gets a nickname, Nuke.
Considering how much I love baseball, it might surprise you to learn that, up until recently, I had never seen Bull Durham. I had read that it was one of the best baseball movies ever made but I never actually watched it. I’m glad that I finally did watch it because it is a really good baseball movie. It’s a movie that loves the game and I wasn’t surprised that the director was a former minor league player because Bull Durham is full of the type of details that you would only get from someone who had actually been there. I especially liked the scene where it was revealed what the players and the coaches are actually talking about when they all gather on the pitcher’s mound. It turns out that they’re not always talking about how to strike out the pitcher.
The love triangle part of the film didn’t work as well as for me. I could relate to Annie’s love for baseball but her character still didn’t quite ring true for me and her narration was overdone. Both Annie and Nuke seemed cartoonish whenever they got together. Kevin Costner, though, was great as Crash Davis. He was believable as an athlete and a mentor. My favorite Costner moment was when a batboy told him to “Get a hit, Crash,” and he replied, “Shut up.” It rang true.
I don’t agree with those who say Bull Durham is the best baseball movie. I think Eight Men Out is better. But I still enjoyed Bull Durham. It’s a movie that loves the game almost as much as I do.
Of the many films that have been made about people desperately trying to get the Hell out of New York City, Quick Change is one of the funniest. The appropriately-named Grimm (Bill Murray) works in the city planning office and has had all that he can take of New York’s crime and rudeness. His solution is to dress up like a clown and rob a bank. His girlfriend Phyllis (Geena Davis) and best friend Loomis (Randy Quaid) are already inside the bank, disguised as customers. When Grimm, who claims to be a “crying on the inside” type of clown, takes everyone in the bank hostage and forces them into the vault, Phyllis and Loomis grab as much of the money as they can. Talking on the phone to police chief Rotzinger (Jason Robards), Grimm makes a series of pointless demands. Each demand that is met leads to Grimm releasing a group of hostages. By removing his clown makeup, Grimm is able to join Phyllis and Loomis when they are “released.” Rotzinger, who has even managed to procure a monster truck, thinks that the robber is still in the bank while Grimm, Phyllis, and Logan head for the airport.
Of course, things don’t go as planned. What starts out as a energetic and good-natured Dog Day Afternoonparody quickly becomes an increasingly surreal journey through New York. The streets are in terrible condition. The signs that would have provided directions to the airport have been taken down by a road construction crew. (They explain that they’re only taking down the signs today and it will be a few days before they get around to putting them back up.) One of the few polite people they meet turns out to be a thief who steals four dollars from Grimm’s wallet but fails to notice that he’s got a million dollars taped around his waist. Stanley Tucci shows up as a mobster. Tony Shalhoub plays a well-meaning taxi driver who speaks his own indecipherable language. Grimm keeps running into rude cops who, despite being on the hunt for the bank robbers, are frequently too busy being rude to notice what’s happening in front of them.
Best of all, Grimm, Phyllis, and the increasingly addled Loomis board a bus being driven by the film’s greatest character. Played by Philip Bosco, the bus driver is a wonderful comedic creation. “That’s not exact change,” the driver says when Loomis attempts to pay him with a hundred dollar bill. “Behind the white line,” he says before starting the bus. When Loomis, who has a habit of running into things and appears to be suffering from a concussion, tries to sit down, the bus driver informs him that he’s not allowed to sit until he receives exact change. The driver has a schedule to keep and, to his credit, he largely manages to do so. Bosco plays him with such deadpan determination that it’s hard not to admire his dedication to following every single regulation to his job. As opposed to Grimm, the driver has learned to deal with living in New York by obsessively making every scheduled stop.
Quick Change struggles sometimes to balance its moments of humor and drama. Scenes of Loomis running like a cartoon character are mixed with scenes of Phyllis worrying that Grimm might actually be a hardened criminal and struggling with whether or not to tell him that she’s pregnant. This was Bill Murray’s first and only film as a director and sometimes, he does struggle to maintain a consistent tone. But, in the end, what’s important is that it’s a funny film. Bill Murray is one of those actors who can make you laugh just by existing and, as a director, he’s smart enough to give Jason Robards enough room to make Rotzinger into something more than just a standard comedic foil.
Quick Change is a comedic nightmare, one that made me laugh even as it also made me glad that I don’t have to drive in New York. I get lost just driving around the suburbs of Dallas. There’s no way I’d ever be able to find my way out of New York.
In 1951’s A Streetcar Named Desire, the emotionally fragile Blanche (played by Vivien Leigh) has come to New Orleans to live with her younger sister, Stella (Kim Hunter). From an old and formerly wealthy Southern family, Blanche has recently lost both her job as a teacher and the plantation where she and Stella grew up. Even before that, she lost her husband to suicide. And now Blanche has been reduced to living with Stella in the run-down apartment that she shares with her brutish husband, Stanley Kowalksi (Marlon Brando).
Stanley is tough and blue-collar, an earthy gambler whose bad manners stand in sharp contrast to Blanche’s attempts to present herself as being an elegant Southern belle. Stanley, who is convinced that Blanche has money that she’s hiding from her sister, goes out of his way torment Blanche. Stella, who is pregnant, tries to keep the peace between her sister and the man who claims to love her, his family, and the Napoleonic code. (“Stella!” Stanley yells at one point, the cry of a wounded animal who desperately needs his mate.) Blanche ends up going on a tentative date with Mitch (Karl Malden), one of Stanley’s co-workers, Stanley, who sees Blanche as a threat to the life that he’s created for himself, goes out of his way to destroy even that relationship. Blanche has secrets of her own and Stanley is determined to dig them up and use them to his own advantage. When Blanche refuses to allow Stanley to destroy the fantasy world that she’s created for herself, Stanley commits an act of unspeakable violence.
Based on the play by Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire is a recreation of the film’s legendary Broadway production. Elia Kazan, who directed the theatrical production, does the same for the film. Marlon Brando, Kim Hunter, and Karl Malden recreate their stage roles and many of the minor characters are also played by the same actors who played them on stage. The only major change to the cast is Vivien Leigh, who replaces Jessica Tandy in the role of Blanche. Tandy had won a Tony for playing the role of Blanche but the film’s producer insisted on an actress who had more box office appeal. After both Bette Davis and Olivia de Havilland (both of whom would have had too strong of a personality to be believably pushed around by Stanley) declined the role, Vivien Leigh was cast. Leigh has played Blanche on the London stage and, perhaps even more importantly, her own fragile mental health mirrored much of what Blanche had gone through before moving to New Orleans.
A few changes were made to the play. In the play, it’s made clear that Blanche’s husband committed suicide after he was caught having an affair with another man. In the film, Blanche simply says that her husband was too sensitive. The film also includes a few scenes that are set outside of the apartment in an attempt to open up the play. (That said, the film still comes across as being rather stagey.) In the play, it’s made clear what Stanley does to Blanche while Stella is at the hospital. The film leaves it ambiguous, though still providing enough hints for the audience to figure it out on their own. Finally, the film ends with a suggestion that Stanley will ultimately suffer for his bad behavior. It’s hardly a happy ending but it’s still not as dark as what happens in the play.
The film definitely retains its theatrical origins. It’s very much a filmed play and again, it can feel rather stagey. But the performance are so strong that it really doesn’t matter. A Streetcar Named Desire was the first film to win three of the acting awards, with Oscars going to Hunter, Malden, and Leigh. Marlon Brando was nominated for Best Actor but did not win, largely because he was competing against Humphrey Bogart who, himself, had never won an Oscar. (The Brando snub would be rectified when he later won for On The Waterfront.) Brando’s performance as Stanley still holds up today. He’s so ferociously charismatic that it’s actually a bit scary to watch him. One can see what drew Stella to him, even though Stanley is very much not a good man. It’s a performance that will definitely take by surprise anyone who knows Brando only from his later years, when he was known for his weight and his oft-stated boredom with acting. A Streetcar Named Desire shows just how brilliant an actor Marlon Brando was at the start of his career. The intensity of Brando’s method acting matches up perfectly with Vivien Leigh’s more traditional style of acting and the film becomes not just the story of a domineering brute and a fragile houseguest but also a metaphor for the death of the antebellum South. If Blanche represents a genteel past that may have never existed, Stanley represents the brutality of the 20th Century.
Along with the similarly dark A Place In The Sun, A Streetcar named Desire was considered to be a front runner for the 1951 Best Picture Oscar. In the end, though, the voters went for the much less depressing An American In Paris.
A Streetcar Named Desire (1951, dir by Elia Kazan, DP: Harry Stradling)
In No Holds Barred, Hulk Hogan plays a professional wrestler who is best-known for his mustache, his thinning blonde hair, and for ripping his shirt in half when he climbs in the ring. Hulk Hogan is playing himself except that everyone in the movie calls him Rip Thomas. Why is Hogan renamed Rip Thomas? It seems strange because NoHolds Barred features “Mean Gene” Okerlund and Jesse “The Body” Ventura as themselves and there’s nothing about Rip that’s any different from Hulk Hogan’s own wrestling persona.
Rip is the World Wrestling Federation Champion and is loved by fans across the globe. Rip may be fierce in the ring but outside of the ring, he loves children and is devoted to looking after his younger brother, Randy (Mark Pellegrino). Tom Brell (Kurt Fuller), the evil owner of World Television Network, wants to harness the star power of Rip but, when Rip refuses to sign with WTN, Brell goes his own way and hires ex-convict Zeus (Tiny Lister) to star in The Battle Of The Tough Guys.
Rip still wants nothing to do with Brell, not even when Brell sends Samantha Moore (Joan Severance) to seduce him. In fact, Rip is such a beacon of goodness that he brings Samantha over to his side. But when Zeus puts Randy in the hospital, Rip has no choice but to seek revenge in the ring.
No Holds Barred is a movie with an identity crisis. It’s a pro wrestling movie that was made to capitalize on Hulkamania and a lot of the humor was meant to appeal to the kids who were a huge part of Hogan’s fanbase but it’s also a movie in which people die, Samantha is nearly raped, and Randy is crippled by Zeus. The movie lacks the sense of fun that has made professional wrestling a worldwide phenomena. The most surprising thing about No Holds Barred is that Hulk Hogan has very little screen presence. I don’t think anyone would expect him to be a great actor but he also shows little of the charisma that made him a phenomena back in the day. Especially when compared to the ferocious Tiny Lister, Hogan is just boring. Maybe that’s the difference between Rip Thomas and Hulk Hogan.
David Paymer has a small role in No Holds Barred, playing a nervous television executive. Out of the cast, Paymer was the only one who later went on to be nominated for an Oscar and Jesse Ventura was the only one to later be elected governor of a state, at least so far. Hulk Hogan’s only 71. He’s still got time.
From 1979’s The Warriors(which was directed by Walter Hill, who celebrates his birthday today), here’s a scene that I love. Playing the role of Cyrus, the man who could bring all of the gangs of New York together, is Roger Hill. Playing the role of his assassin is the great David Patrick Kelly.
Cyrus knew what he was talking about but the world wasn’t ready for him.
Saturday Night, which presents what I assume to be a highly fictionalized account of the 90 minutes before the 1975 premiere of Saturday Night Live, did the impossible. It made me feel sorry for Chevy Chase.
Don’t get me wrong. As played by Cory Michael Smith, Chevy Chase is not presented as being a sympathetic character in Saturday Night. The film acknowledges his talent as a comedian and that he was the first star to come out of Saturday Night Live. But he’s still presented as being arrogant, self-centered, rude, and often deliberately self-destructive. The film portrays Chevy Chase in much the same way that most people describe him in real life. Chevy Chase has apparently always been a difficult person to work with and, I suppose to his credit, it doesn’t appear that Chevy himself has ever claimed anything different. But Saturday Night so piles on Chevy that even I felt it went a bit overboard. It’s one thing to present Chevy as being the arrogant jerk that he’s admitted to being. It’s another thing to fill the movie with moments in which people stop what they’re doing to tell Chevy that his career is going to start strong and then fade due to his bad behavior. At one point, the NBC executive played by Willem DaFoe comments that Chevy could host his own late night talk show. We’re all meant to laugh because eventually, Chevy Chase did host a late night talk show and it was such a disaster that it’s still, decades after its cancellation, held up as a prime example of a bad career move. But, in the context of the film, it feels a bit like overkill. It’s one thing to be honest about someone being a pain in the ass. It’s another thing to repeatedly kick someone while they’re down. Chevy, much like the NBC censor who is chanted down in the film’s cringiest moment, simply feels like too easy of a target.
Of course, Saturday Night is full of moments that are meant to comment more on the future than on whatever was going on in 1975. The whole point of the film is that Saturday Night Live, a show that the network has little faith in and which is being produced by a hyperactive visionary (Gabriel LaBelle as Lorne Michaels) who seems to be making it up as he goes along, is eventually going to become a cultural phenomenon. Every time someone tries to convince Lorne Michaels to cancel the premiere or to miss with the format, we’re meant to think to ourselves, “Little do they know that this show is going to be huge for several decades before eventually just becoming another predictable part of the media landscape.” The scenes of Garrett Morris (Lamorne Morris) wandering around the set and asking, “What is my purpose? Why am I here?” may not feel like something that would have happened in 1975 but they’re there because it’s something that people were asking about in 2024. Watching the film, it helps if you know something about the history of Saturday Night Live. It helps to know that Dan Aykryod (Dylan O’Brien), John Belushi (Matt Wood), and Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt) are going to carry the show after Chevy Chase leaves. It helps to know that Billy Crystal (Nicholas Podany) is going to become a Hollywood mainstay even after he gets dumped from the premiere for refusing to cut any material out of his act. It helps to know that the mellow, pot-smoking band leader is actually Paul Shaffer (Paul Rust). It helps to know that Lorne Michael and Dick Ebersol (Cooper Hoffman, giving one of the best performances in the film) are going to become powerful names in American television. The film may be set in 1975 but it’s actually about all the years to come.
It’s still an entertaining and well-made film, one that I enjoyed watching. Saturday Night manages to create the illusion of playing out in real time and director Jason Reitman captures the excitement of being backstage before opening night. It’s an excitement that everyone can relate to, whether their opening night was on television, Broadway, or just a community theater in their small college town. The backstage chaos of Saturday Night is wonderfully choreographed and, most importantly, it captures the feeling of being young, idealistic, and convinced that you can change the world. Reitman also gets good performances from his cast, with Cooper Hoffman, Dylan O’Brien, and Rachel Sennott (playing writer Rosie Shuster) as stand-outs. That said, the film is pretty much stolen by J.K. Simmons, who has a memorably lecherous cameo as Milton Berle and who provides Chevy Chase with a look at what waits for him in the future. If the film is never quite as poignant as it wants to be, that’s because Saturday Night Live is no longer the cultural powerhouse that it once was. If Saturday Night had been released just 18 years ago, before SNL became best-known as the place where Alec Baldwin hides out from bad publicity, it would probably be an Oscar front runner right now. Released today, it’s just makes one feel a little bit sad. The show that was built on never selling out eventually sold out.
After a couple of decades of toiling away in TV and supporting roles, Charles Bronson became a huge international film star in 1968 when he starred in the films FAREWELL, FRIEND (with Alain Delon), and Sergio Leone’s ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST (with Henry Fonda). For the next 5 years, Bronson would star in successful international co-productions, before hitting it big in the United States with the influential 1974 blockbuster, DEATH WISH. From 1974 to 1977, Bronson had his pick of any role that he wanted. This was probably the most interesting time in his career as he truly tried to expand his range with films like the depression-era HARD TIMES (1975), the romantic comedy FROM NOON TILL THREE (1976), the Raymond Chandler-esque ST. IVES (1976), and the surreal western THE WHITE BUFFALO (1977). But after 1977’s TELEFON and a series of underwhelming box office returns in the states, Bronson’s star was on the wane. He wouldn’t have his next #1 box office hit until he joined forces with the infamous Cannon studios in 1982 for the sequel to his biggest hit and DEATH WISH II. Cannon Studios would provide Bronson with a guaranteed paycheck and a non-stop presence on cable TV and at the video store for the remainder of the decade. I call the films that Bronson made between 1977 and 1982 the in-betweens. They don’t really fit into his European phase (1968-1973), his post-DEATH WISH phase (1974-1977) or his Cannon phase (1982-1989). To be completely honest, it seemed his career was somewhat in limbo at this point, and the movies he made during these years are some of his least well-known.
One of the movies that Charles Bronson made during the in-between years was 1980’s BORDERLINE. In this film, he plays Jeb Maynard, a border patrolman and expert tracker who will stop at nothing to find the human smuggler responsible for killing his friend and fellow patrolman Scooter, played by Wilford Brimley. I like this lower-key Bronson film. Director Jerrold Freedman has made a more realistic film than a lot of the movies in Bronson’s filmography. Outside of the murder that gets the story going, and the final showdown with the lead smuggler (a young Ed Harris), most of the film is made up of good old-fashioned field work and investigation. Bronson even based much of his performance on the technical advice of legendary border patrolman Albert Taylor. Now that doesn’t mean there aren’t some solid, action-packed scenes during the movie. My favorites include a scene where an undercover Maynard goes into Mexico with the mother of a young Mexican boy who was accidentally killed at the same time as Maynard’s friend Scooter. Maynard poses as a family member of the woman in hopes of being smuggled across the border so he can see how the illegal immigrants are being brought in. When thieves intercept the group, all hell breaks loose, and Maynard and the woman must fight their way out. Another badass moment occurs when Bronson beats needed information out of one of the smugglers in a nasty bathroom. This last scene is especially enjoyable for us Bronson fans.
There are so many good actors in this film. Outside of Bronson, Brimley, and Ed Harris, the cast is filled out by other veterans like Bruno Kirby, Bert Remsen, Michael Lerner, John Ashton, and Charles Cyphers. On a side note, Ed Harris gets the “introducing” credit here, even though he had appeared in several TV shows, as well as the movie COMA with Michael Douglas. This was his first major role in a feature film though. I also want to throw out special mention to Karmin Murcelo. She’s not a household name, but she’s excellent as the mother of the young boy who gets killed with Wilford Brimley’s character, who then helps Bronson in his quest to find the killer. Her career extended over 3 decades, and it’s easy to see why based on this performance.
BORDERLINE may not be an explosive action film like some of Bronson’s other work, but it’s an effective drama with a good performance from the star. I think he embodies the character perfectly. It’s also just as relevant in 2025 as it was in 1980, and I give the film a solid recommendation.
I am currently sitting in my bedroom, wrapped in several blankets and watching the snow fall on the other side of my window. I love snow, mostly because I live in Texas and therefore, I don’t get to see it that often. The most snow we’ve gotten down here, at least in my lifetime, was in 2021. That was when we got hit by that blizzard and had to deal with rolling blackouts for a week straight. That’s not a good memory but still, I love to watch the snow fall. Even during that blizzard, I still loved the fact that I could use the snow as a nightlight as I read a Mickey Spillane book and waited for the power to come back on.
Down here in North Texas, snow is exotic. In other parts of the country, it’s just a part of everyday life.
Like in the Dakotas for instance….
First released in 1996 and directed by the Coen Brothers, Fargo is a film that is full of arresting images. As soon as you hear (or read) the title, those images and the sounds associated with them immediately pop into your head. You immediately visualize the desperate car salesman Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy) trying to trick a customer into paying extra for the trucoat and insisting that “I’m not getting snippy here!” You see the film’s two kidnappers, Carl Showalter (Steve Buscemi) and Gaear Grimsud (Peter Stomare), getting on each other’s nerves as they drive from one frozen location to another. You remember heavily pregnant Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand) investigating a snowy crime scene and gently correcting another officer’s “police work.” You flash back to the moment when Mike Yanagita (Steve Park) suddenly breaks down in tears and tells Marge that she’s a super lady. “And it’s a beautiful day,” Marge says at one point, wondering how so many terrible things could have happened on such a lovely day. And she’s right. It was a beautiful day. It was far too beautiful a day to discover one man stuffing another into a woodchipper.
Myself, I always think of the scene where Carl attempts to find a place to hide a briefcase full of money. It’s night. Carl’s been shot in the face but he has the money that he’s gone through so much trouble to collect. He runs into a field, looking for a place to hide it. The field is covered in snow. Every inch of the ground glows a bright white. Everything looks the same. But Carl still runs around desperately before picking a place to bury the suitcase. It doesn’t seem to occur to Carl that there’s no visible landmarks or anything that would ever help him to find the money again. He’s blinded, by the snow, by the pain of the bullet, and, like most of the characters in this movie, by his own greed.
Of course, Fargo is not a film about people behaving in intelligent ways. Greed, loneliness, and desperation all lead to people doing some pretty stupid things. Jerry thinks that the best way to pay off his debts and raise the money for a real estate deal is to arrange for his wife to be kidnapped so his wealthy father-in-law (Harve Presnell) will pay the ransom. His father-in-law, who obviously despises Jerry and would be happy for him to just go away, is convinced that he’ll be able to both get back his daughter and recover his money. (If Jerry had just spent a moment really thinking about his plan before going through with it, he would have realized his father-in-law would never just part with his money.) Carl thinks that it’s a good idea to partner up with the obviously sociopathic Grimsud. When a cop pulls over Carl and Grimsud’s car, Grimsud ignores the fact that Carl was talking his way out of the ticket and instead kills the policeman and then kills several eyewitnesses. (“I told you not to stop.”) Marge figures out what is going on but even she puts her life in danger by investigating a cabin without proper backup. The characters in Fargo frequently behave in ludicrous ways and almost all of them speak with an exaggerated regional dialect (All together now: “Oh yeah,”) but they also feel incredibly real. The sad truth of the matter is that there are people as greedy, dumb, and hapless in the world as Jerry. There are people like Carl and Grimsud. Even Jerry’s fearsome father-in-law is a very familiar type of character. People do thing without thinking and inevitably, they make things worse the more overwhelmed they become. Common sense (not to mention decency) is frequently the last thing that anyone considers. Fortunately, Marge is believable too. Marge at times almost seems so gentle and polite (“No, why don’t you sit over there?” she sweetly tells Mike when he attempts to get too close to her.) that the viewer worries about what’s going to happen to her when she gets closer and closer to figuring out what’s going on. Fortunately, Marge turns out to be much stronger than anyone, even the viewer, expected. The world of Fargo can be a terrible place but there’s moments of kindness and hope as well.
Fargo is both a comedy and a drama. The opening title card says that the film is based on a true story, which is a typical Coen Brothers joke. (The film was loosely inspired by several similar crimes but the story itself is fictional.) Carter Burwell’s dramatic score is both appropriately grand and also gently satiric. Jerry does some terrible things but William H. Macy plays him as being so naive and desperate and ultimately overwhelmed that it’s hard not to have a little sympathy for him. Jerry truly thought it would be so simple to pull off a complicated crime. (The poor guy can’t even get the ice off of his windshield.) As played by Steve Buscemi, Carl Showalter talks nonstop and he makes you laugh despite yourself. His shock at how poorly everything goes is one of the film’s highlights. It’s a funny film but it’s also a sad one. I always worry about what’s going to happen to Jerry’s son. Ultimately, of course, the film belongs to Frances McDormand, who gives a wonderful performance as Marge. She’s the heart of the film, the one who reminds the viewer that there are good people in the world.
Considering the film’s cultural impact, it’s always somewhat shocking to remember that Fargo did not win the Oscar for Best Picture. It lost to The English Patient, a film about a homewrecker who helps the Nazis. Personally, I prefer Fargo.
Fargo (1996, dir by the Coen Brothers, DP: Roger Deakins)
Emilio Manrique (Alvaro Orlando) was born in the part of Miami that is never featured in any tourism commercials. With an absentee father (Steven Bauer) and an addict mother (Yennifer Behrens), Emilio struggled while growing up, getting in trouble and spending time in a mental hospital before he was given a good home by his uncle (Oscar Torre) and grandmother (Ivonne Coll). Boxing provides an escape for Enrique, a chance to make something out of himself. But few promoters are willing to take a chance on him, not with his criminal background and rumored mental health woes. Only Talia Portillo (Camila Banus), who is eager to prove herself as Miami’s first female boxing promoter, is willing to support Emilio but can even she get him a fight against the champion (Jilon VanOver).
From what I understand, Counterpunch was inspired by Alvaro Orlando’s actual life story. (Along with director Kenneth Castillo, he’s credited with writing the film’s screenplay.) Almost every boxing cliche is present in Counterpunch but I appreciated that the film took a look at not just how Emilio’s childhood set him on the path to becoming a boxer but also at what it did to him mentally. As fearsome as Emilio’s opponents are in the ring, the greatest threat to his success of a boxer comes from his own inner demons. Alvaro Orlando is believable as Emilio, which makes sense since it’s his story! Danny Trejo and Steven Bauer both show up in small roles. Trejo plays Emilio’s counselor and he gives a heartfelt performance, playing a character who doesn’t seem like he’s too far off from who Trejo actually is.
Counterpunch is a good boxing movie, even if it doesn’t exactly rewrite the rules of the genre.
In the 1980 remake of The Jazz Singer, it only takes the film seven minutes to find an excuse to put Neil Diamond in blackface.
Of course, the film was a remake of the 1927 version of The Jazz Singer, which featured several scenes of Al Jolson performing in blackface. In fact, Al Jolson in blackface was such a key part of the film that it was even the image that was used to advertise the film when it was first released. Back in the 20s, Jolson said that wearing blackface was a way of honoring the black artists who created jazz. (As shocking as the image of Al Jolson wearing blackface is to modern sensibilities, Jolson was considered a strong advocate for civil rights and one of the few white singers to regularly appear on stage with black musicians.) Regardless of Jolson’s motives, less-progressively minded performers used blackface as a way to reinforce racial stereotypes and, to modern audiences, blackface is an abhorrent reminder of how black people were marginalized by a racist culture. You would think that, if there was any element of the original film that a remake would change, it would be the lead character performing in blackface.
But nope. Seven minutes into the remake, songwriter Jess Robin (Neil Diamond) puts on a fake afro and dons blackface so that he can perform on stage at a black club with the group that is performing his songs. The group’s name is the Four Brothers and, unfortunately, one of the Brothers was arrested the day of the performance. Jess performs with the group and the crowd loves it until they see his white hands. Ernie Hudson — yes, Ernie Hudson — stands up and yells, “That’s a white boy!” A riot breaks out. The police show up. Jess and the three remaining Brothers are arrested and taken to jail. Jess is eventually bailed out by his father, Cantor Rabinovitch (Laurence Olivier). The Cantor is shocked to discover that his son, Yussel Rabinovitch, has been performing under the name Jess Robin. He’s also stunned to learn that Yussel doesn’t want to be a cantor like his father. Instead, he wants to write and perform modern music. The Cantor tells Yussel that his voice is God’s instrument, not his own. Yussel returns home to his wife, Rivka (Caitlin Adams), and tries to put aside his dreams.
But when a recording artist named Keith Lennox (Paul Nicholas) wants to record one Yussel’s songs, Yussel flies out to Los Angeles. As Jess Robin, he is shocked to discover that Lennox wants to turn a ballad that he wrote into a hard rock number, Jess sings the song to show Lennox how it should sound. The arrogant Lennox is not impressed but his agent, Molly (Lucie Arnaz) is. Soon, Jess has a chance to become a star but what about the family he left behind in New York? “I have no son!” the Cantor wails when he learns about Jess’s new life in California.
I’ve often seen the 1980 version of The Jazz Singer referred to as being one of the worst films of all time. I watched it a few days ago and I wouldn’t go that far. It’s not really terrible as much as its just kind of bland. For someone who has had as long and successful a career as Neil Diamond, he gives a surprisingly charisma-free performance in the lead role. The most memorable thing about Diamond’s performance is that he refuses to maintain eye contact with any of the other performers, which makes Jess seem like kind of a sullen brat. It also doesn’t help that Diamond appears to be in his 40s in this film, playing a role that was clearly written for a much younger artist. Still, when it comes to bad acting, no one can beat a very miscast Laurence Olivier, delivering his lines with an overdone Yiddish accent and dramatically tearing at his clothes to indicate that Yussel is dead to him. Olivier was neither Jewish nor a New Yorker and that becomes very clear the more one watches this film. It takes a truly great actor to give a performance this bad. Diamond, at least, could point to the fact that he was a nonactor given a starring role in a major studio production. Olivier, on the other hand, really had no one to blame but himself.
Still, I have to admit that ending the film with a sparkly Neil Diamond performing America while Laurence Olivier nods in the audience was perhaps the best possible way to bring this film to a close. It’s a moment of beautiful kitsch. The Jazz Singer needed more of that.
Through the Shattered Lens