First produced in 1987, the short film The Day My Kid Went Punk tells the story of Terry Warner (Jay Underwood), a clean-cut teenager and aspiring violinist who lands a summer job working as a daycare counselor at a luxury hotel.
Feeling that he’s been neglected in favor of his high achieving older brother and his younger sister, Terry acts like a typical middle child and decides to change his image right after leaving home for his job. (It worked for Jan Brady!) He decides to become a punk. (Jan Brady never went that far.) Could this have something to do with his mother (Christine Belford) being the nation’s leading expert on the “Punk Syndrome,” that is terrifying parents everywhere? Or could it just be because Terry knows that he’ll never be as cool as his father (Bernie Kopell), who might claim to be named Tom Warner but who is obviously just Adam Bricker living in the suburbs? Every time Tom looks at his “punk” son, you can just see him dreading the thought of word of this getting back to Captain Stubing.
(Incidentally, the family in film is clearly named Warner but, in all of the advertisements that I’ve seen for this special, including the one at the top of the post, they’re identified as being the Nelson family.)
Needless to say, Terry Warner is, in no way, a convincing punk and judging from the film’s dialogue and plot, it would appear that the film doesn’t really know the difference between punk, goth, and heavy metal. Everyone at the hotel is a bit taken aback by Terry’s appearance but he proves himself to be a good worker and the kids absolutely love riding horses with him. I guess the message is that you shouldn’t judge someone based solely on how he looks. That’s a good message except that it’s ultimately undercut by Terry himself and his decision abandon his punk look as soon as it inconveniences him at school. So, I guess the message is that teens should dress the way they want unless it keeps them from winning first chair in the school band and parents shouldn’t worry because teenagers are so shallow that they’ll abandon anything after a month or two. The film suggests that Punk is less of a syndrome and more of a fad that whiny middle children go through during the summer.
(Myself, I’m not a middle child. I’m the youngest of four and I’ve never felt particularly ignored, even if there were times when it seemed like being left alone would be a nice change of pace. That said, I definitely went through some phases while I was growing up. During my junior and senior years of high school, I always made sure that I was wearing at least one black garment and I wrote emo poetry under the name Pandora DeSaad.)
Anyway, Halloween’s approaching and this very (and I do mean very) campy short film feels like a good way to welcome a month that encourages everyone, young and old, to think about putting on costumes. Here is The Day My Kid Went Punk!
The 1975 drive-in film, Trucker’s Woman, opens with the tragic (and rather horrifying) death of Jim Kelly, a trucker who meets his demise when the breaks on his truck fail. We watch as Jim is tossed back and forth inside the cab of his truck and, in fact, the film’s opening credits play out over freeze frames of Jim’s gruesome end. Jim was a beloved member of the trucking community and his funeral is about as well-attended as a funeral taking place in a low-budget film can be. Everyone is going to be miss Jim but fortunately, his son Mike (Michael Hawkins) is going to carry on the family business!
As Mike explains to his father’s permanently soused friend, Ben Turner (Doodles Weaver), he’s giving up a lot to take over for his father. Mike is dropping out of college and sacrificing his dream of becoming a philosophy professor. Of course, Mike appears to be nearly 50 so, if he still hasn’t gotten that degree, it’s probably for the best that he went ahead of gave up on that dream. From what little we saw of Jim, he appeared to be 50 as well so you have to kind of wonder if Mike is actually his son. My theory is that Mike was just a drifter who happened to see a funeral occurring off the side of the road and decided to cash in.
Anyway, Mike is soon driving a truck and discovering that his boss, Fontaine (Jack Canon), is a bit of a jerk who favors certain truckers more than others. Mike also meets Fontaine’s daughter, Karen (Mary Cannon), at a roadside bar and ends up following her back to her motel, pounding on her door until she gets out of the shower and answers it while wearing a towel, and then announcing that he’s going to be accepting her offer to spend the night with her….
So, you can probably already guess what the main problem with this film is. At best, Mike is a jerk. At worst, he’s an alcoholic misogynist who breaks into a woman’s motel room, demands sex, and is then offended when she leaves the next morning without telling him where she’s going. The film tries to portray Mike as being a strong, independent man who works hard and refuses to be ordered around. However, he comes across less like Burt Reynolds in Smokey and the Bandit or Kris Kristofferson in Convoyand more like one of those truckers who eventually gets caught with a dead body in the back of his cab. Everything about Mike just screams homicidal drifter. Not even the title character from Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killerwould have accepted a ride from this guy.
Anyway, Mike and Ben attempt to discover who sabotaged the brakes on old Jim Kelly’s rig and since only a mechanic could have done it, suspicion immediately falls on Diesel Joe (Larry Drake) because he’s the only mechanic in the film! And who paid Diesel Joe to sabotage the brakes? Well, there’s only person in the film who has any money so it looks like it’s time for Ben to rally the other truckers and Mike to toss a bunch of people into Fontaine’s pool.
Trucker’s Woman does not work as a thriller or a mystery or a comedy. It does work as a time capsule of the 70s. Seriously, look at all of those wood-paneled rooms! Look at all of those plaid jackets! Seriously, there’s enough plaid in this film it could have just as easily been called Forever Plaid. Filmed on the highways of South Carolina, Trucker’s Woman is a film the epitomizes an era but there’s plenty of other films that do the exact same thing and don’t feature an alcoholic misogynist as the lead character. (Seriously, Rubber Duck would have tossed Mike Kelly out of a moving truck.)
Finally, Trucker’s Woman is infamous in some circles for featuring a random shot of a pepperoni pizza sitting on a wooden deck. It’s a shot that pops up out of nowhere and has nothing to do with the rest of the film. It’s thought that the shot was included as an experiment in subliminal advertising and I will admit that my sister and I did order a pizza after this film ended.
A British documentary from 2016, My Dad’s On Death Row tells the story of two men who sat on Texas’s death row.
John Battaglia was a handsome man with a charming smile who, despite having a violent criminal record, had established himself as a respected accountant who had friends who lived in Highland Park (the richest part of Dallas) and who lived in a hip apartment in Deep Ellum. In 1999, his wife filed for divorce and Battaglia was given probation after pleading guilty to a misdemeanor charge of spousal abuse. When he continued to call his ex-wife in violation of a restraining order, she threatened to inform his probation office. Battaglia reacted by taking his two youngest daughters to his apartment, calling his ex-wife, and then forcing her to listen as he murdered them. After killing his daughters, Battaglia went to a nearby tattoo parlor and got two roses tattooed on his bicep. The cops who saw the crime scene described it as the most horrific thing that they had ever seen. Battaglia was arrested and convicted of the crime. When Battaglia was sentenced to death, he turned to his ex-wife in the courtroom and told her to “Burn in Hell.”
Coy Wayne Westbrook murdered five people, including his ex-wife, at a party in Channelview, Texas. Westbrook said that, after his ex-wife and the other party guests made fun of him and his attempts to reconcile with her, Westbrook went out to his truck, grabbed a rifle, and opened fire when he returned. Despite Westbrook’s claim that he didn’t originally mean to kill anyone and the defense’s claim that Westbrook’s low IQ made his incapable of understanding his actions, a jury still sentenced him to death.
Both Coy Westbrook and John Battaglia are dead now, executed by the state of Texas. My Dad’s OnDeath Row documents their final days and features interviews with them, the surviving members of their families, and people who both support and oppose the death penalty. While this British-made documentary is critical of the death penalty, it never makes the mistake of idealizing or excusing either Coy Westbrook or John Battaglia. As someone who is personally opposed to the death penalty, nothing annoys me more than the counter-productive tendency of certain anti-capital punishment activists to insist that everyone on Death Row was either wrongly convicted or is a saint in disguise. This documentary leaves no doubt that both Westbrook and Battaglia were guilty of the crimes for which they were convicted. When John Battaglia smirks while he discusses abusing his wife and murdering his children, even the most liberal of viewers will want to reach through the screen and wring his neck.
The film focuses on two daughters. Westbrook’s daughter fought to save her father’s life. Battaglia’s surviving daughter supported his execution. Both of them carry the psychological scars of their father’s crimes. In its nonjudgmental way, the documentary examines what it’s like to be the child of a parent who has committed the worst crime imaginable. Even more than being about how people die in prison, it’s about how those left behind struggle to continue their lives. It’s a moving and thought-provoking documentary and it can currently be viewed on Tubi.
“Sex isn’t the only thing I care about. It’s just that I’ve always imagined myself falling in love with someone …. who’s alive. I know that may sound strange to you, but it’s just the way I was brought up.”
Sometimes, it just takes one line to transform a mere bad movie into a masterpiece of weirdness and that’s certainly what happens in 2003’s Julie and Jack when Jack Livingston (Justin Kunkle) attempts to explain why he’s having trouble with the idea of committing to Julie Romanov (Jenn Gotzon). Jack is a computer chip salesman who has been unlucky in love until he joins CupidMatchmaker.Com and meets Julie Romanov. He quickly falls in love with Julie, despite the fact that she refuses to tell him anything about her past and he never meets her in person. Instead, they spend their time walking around a virtual reality recreation of San Francisco.
Why is Julie so sensitive? Well, Julie is not exactly alive. When she was among the living, she was a brilliant computer programmer but, when she found out she was dying of a brain tumor, she managed to transfer her mind into the Internet. Her body may be dead but her mind and her personality live on, haunting dating websites. When Jack discovers the truth about his new girlfriend, he has to decide if he can be in love with someone with whom he can never have sex.
(It never seems to occur to either Jack or Julie that there also might be issues involved with someone having a relationship in which one person who is no longer among the living and will never age while her partner gets older and closer to his own death.)
It’s pretty dumb but it’s also so earnest and stupidly sincere that it’s kind of hard not to like it. Julie and Jack was the directorial debut of James Nguyen, who went on achieve a certain cinematic infamy with the Birdemic films. Just as the Birdemic films seemed to sincerely believe that they had something important to say about environmentalism, Julie and Jack has similar delusions of grandeur, with the main difference being that the message of Julie and Jack is a bit more heartfelt than Birdemic’s Al Gore-inspired preachiness.
The film has all of the things that we normally associate with James Nguyen’s work. The pointless driving scenes, the meandering travelogue shots of San Francisco, the scenes were everyone in a boardroom applauds, they’re all here with Nguyen’s other trademark obsessions. Because it’s not a Nguyen film without a reference to Hitchcock, Tippi Hedren has a cameo appearance as Julie’s mother and, of course, Nguyen includes a scene in which she talks about how much she loves birds. Do you think Hedren ever got tired of directors telling her to react to birds? I mean, she did make other films. Of course, other than Marnie and Roar, I can’t really think of any of them right now….
Anyway, Julie and Jack is silly and dumb and visually, it looks like a community college student film. At the same time, it’s so sincere and so cheerfully clueless about its inability to be the thought-provoking and mind-bending love story that it wants to be that I can’t help but like it a little. It’s a film that tries very, very hard and it’s difficult not to appreciate, on at least some level, the effort.
The new American Ninja, Sean Davidson (David Bradley), travels to a remote island nation and gets captured while investigating a corrupt British ninja named Colonel Mulgrew (James Booth), who is trying to help an evil sheikh (Ron Smerczac) purchase a suitcase nuke. With Sean and his associates being held hostage in an old British fort, the original American Ninja, Joe Armstrong (Michael Dudikoff), is called in to rescue Sean and thwart the terrorist’s plot. Joe has retired from the Ninja game and is now work as a member of the Peace Corps but he’s persuaded to battle evil one last time. In typical Cannon Films fashion, he has an army of rebels backing him up as he attacks Mulgrew’s compound.
The fourth American Ninja film teams up Michael Dudikoff with the David Bradley, who took over the American Ninja franchise with the third film. The idea was probably to use the presence of Dudikoff to give Bradley the credibility that he lacked in his previous American Ninja outing but the film actually sabotages David Bradley further by having Bradley spend nearly the entire film tied up while Dudikoff gets to fight the bad guys. Dudikoff and Bradley barely even interact in the film, with Bradley mostly being present for the slowly-paced opening while Dudikoff shows up for the more exciting, fight-filled finale. It’s almost as if the film was set up as an elaborate prank to make Sean look even less worthy as a replacement as Joe. While it’s true that Sean does get to fight Mulgrew at the end of the movie, Joe gets to fights the Super Ninja (Kely McClung). Fighting a Super Ninja is always going to be more impressive than fighting a British guy.
American Ninja 4 is a Cannon film but it was definitely not made during Cannon’s heyday and it is never as memorable as any of the previous American Ninja films. The poster features Dudikoff and Bradley both ready to battle, much like those old issues of Marvel Team-Up that would feature both Spider-Man and the Human Torch working together to battle Doctor Doom, Doctor Octopus, or any of the other evil comic book doctors. (Marvel had a lot of them.) Bringing the two American Ninjas together would seem to promise double the action but instead, it’s just an underwhelming team-up. Cannon would have been better served by adapting the issue of Marvel Team-Up where Spider-Man and John Belushi battled the Silver Samurai. That was an exciting story!
In 2021, I finally saw the infamous film, The Bonfire of the Vanities.
I saw it when it premiered on TCM. Now, I have to say that there were quite a few TCM fans who were not happy about The Bonfire of the Vanities showing up on TCM, feeling that the film had no place on a station that was supposed to be devoted to classic films. While it’s true that TCM has shown “bad” films before, they were usually films that, at the very least, had a cult reputation. And it is also true that TCM has frequently shown films that originally failed with audiences or critics or both. However, those films had almost all been subsequently rediscovered by new audiences and often reevaluated by new critics. The Bonfire of the Vanities is not a cult film. It’s not a film about which one can claim that it’s “so bad that it’s good.” As for the film being reevaluated, I’ll just say that there is no one more willing than me to embrace a film that was rejected by mainstream critics. But, as I watched The Bonfire of the Vanities, I saw that everything negative that I had previously read about the film was true.
Released in 1990 and based on a novel by Tom Wolfe, Bonfire of the Vanities stars Tom Hanks as Sherman McCoy, a superficial Wall Street trader who has the perfect penthouse and a painfully thin, status-obsessed wife (Kim Cattrall). Sherman also has a greedy mistress named Maria (Melanie Griffith). It’s while driving with Maria that Sherman takes a wrong turn and ends up in the South Bronx. When Sherman gets out of the car to move a tire that’s in the middle of the street, two black teenagers approach him. Maria panics and, after Sherman jumps back in the car, she runs over one of the teens. Maria talks Sherman into not calling the police. The police, however, figure out that Sherman’s car was the one who ran over the teen. Sherman is arrested and finds himself being prosecuted by a power-hungry district attorney (F. Murray Abraham). The trial becomes the center of all of New York City’s racial and economic strife, with Sherman becoming “the great white defendant,” upon whom blame for all of New York’s problems can be placed. Bruce Willis plays an alcoholic journalist who was British in the novel. Morgan Freeman plays the judge, who was Jewish in the novel. As well, in the novel, the judge was very much a New York character, profanely keeping order in the court and spitting at a criminal who spit at him first. In the movie, the judge delivers a speech ordering everyone to “be decent to each other” like their mothers taught them to be.
Having read Wolfe’s very novel before watching the film, I knew that there was no way that the adaptation would be able to remain a 100% faithful to Wolfe’s lacerating satire. Because the main character of Wolfe’s book was New York City, he was free to make almost all of the human characters as unlikable as possible. In the book, Peter Fallow is a perpetually soused opportunist who doesn’t worry about who he hurts with his inflammatory articles. Sherman McCoy is a haughty and out-of-touch WASP who never loses his elitist attitude. In the film, Bruce Willis smirks in his wiseguy manner and mocks the other reporters for being so eager to destroy Sherman. Hanks, meanwhile, attempts to play Sherman as an everyman who just happens to live in a luxury penthouse and spend his days on Wall Street. Hanks is so miscast and so clueless as how to play a character like this that Sherman actually comes across as if he’s suffering from some sort of brain damage. He feels less like a stockbroker and more like Forrest Gump without the Southern accent. There’s a scene, written specifically for the film, in which Fallow and Sherman ride the subway together and it literally feels like a parody of one of those sentimental buddy films where a cynic ends up having to take a road trip with someone who has been left innocent and naïve as result of spending the first half of their life locked in basement or a bomb shelter. It’s one thing to present Sherman as being wealthy and uncomfortable among those who are poor. It’s another thing to leave us wondering how he’s ever been able to successfully cross a street in New York City without getting run over by an angry cab driver.
Because the film can’t duplicate Wolfe’s unique prose, it instead resorts to mixing cartoonish comedy and overwrought melodrama. It doesn’t add up too much. At one point, Sherman ends a dinner party by firing a rifle in his apartment but, after it happens, the incident is never mentioned again. I mean, surely someone else in the apartment would have called the cops about someone firing a rifle in the building. Someone in the press would undoubtedly want to write a story about Sherman McCoy, the center of the city’s trial of the century, firing a rifle in his own apartment. If the novel ended with Sherman resigned to the fact that his legal problems are never going to end, the film ends with Sherman getting revenge on everyone who has persecuted him and he does so with a smirk that does not at all feel earned. After two hours of being an idiot, Sherman suddenly outthinks everyone else. Why? Because the film needed the happy ending that the book refused to offer up.
Of course, the film’s biggest sin is that it’s just boring. It’s a dull film, full of good actors who don’t really seem to care about the dialogue that they are reciting. Director Brian De Palma tries to give the film a certain visual flair, resorting to his usual collection of odd camera angles and split screens, none of which feel at all necessary to the story. In the end, De Palma is not at all the right director for the material. Perhaps Sidney Lumet could have done something with it, though he would have still had to deal with the less than impressive script. De Palma’s over-the-top, set piece-obsessed sensibilities just add to the film’s cartoonish feel.
The film flopped at the box office. De Palma’s career never recovered. Tom Hanks’s career as a leading man was momentarily derailed. Bruce Willis would have to wait a few more years to establish himself as a serious actor. Even the normally magnanimous Morgan Freeman has openly talked about how much he hated being involved with The Bonfire of the Vanities. That said, the film lives on because De Palma allowed journalist Julie Salomon to hang out on the set and the book she wrote about the production, The Devil’s Candy, is a classic of Hollywood non-fiction. (TCM adapted the book into a podcast, which is how The Bonfire of the Vanities came to be featured on the station.) Thanks to Salomon’s book, The Bonfire of the Vanities has gone to become the epitome of a certain type of flop, the literary adaptation that is fatally compromised by executives who don’t read.
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Sundays, I will be reviewing the made-for-television movies that used to be a primetime mainstay. Today’s film is 1986’s The George McKenna Story! It can be viewed on Netflix, under the title Hard Lessons!
George Washington High School is a school that has defeated many well-meaning principals. The hallways are full of drugs and gang members. A good deal of the student body never shows up for class. Fights are frequent. The police are a common sight. The majority of the teachers are men like Ben Proctor (Richard Masur), burned-out and content to hide in the teacher’s lounge.
New Orleans-raised George McKenna (Denzel Washington) is the latest principal and, from the minute that he shows up at the school, he seems a bit more confident than the other principals that the school has had. He barely flinches when a raw egg hits his suit. When he hears a fight occurring, he doesn’t hesitate to head down the hall to investigate. McKenna is determined to make George Washington High into a worthwhile institution and that means inspiring both the students and the teachers.
When it comes to films about dedicated educators trying to reform a troubled school, most films tend to take one of two approaches. One approach, the well-intentioned but not always realistic liberal approach, features the teacher or the principal who demands respect but who also treats the good students and teachers with equal respect and who turns around the school through the power of benevolence. The other approach is the one where the principal or teacher grows frustrated and turns into an armed vigilante who forces the students to shut up and learn. Think of The Principal or The Substitute or Class of 1984. The first approach is the one that most teachers claim that they try to follow but I imagine that, for most of them, there’s an element in wish-fulfillment to be found in watching the second approach. In the real world, of course, neither approach is as automatically successful as it is in the movies.
The George McKenna Story was made for television and it’s based on a true story so, not surprisingly, it follows the first approach. Denzel Washington plays McKenna as someone who could probably handle himself in a fight if he ever got into one but, for the most part, the film portrays McKenna as succeeding by treating his students with more empathy and respect that they’ve gotten from anyone else in their lives. Though cranky old Ben Proctor thinks that McKenna’s methods are foolish and that he’s asking the teachers to do too much, McKenna starts to turn the school around. One student, whose father was threatening to make him drop out, ends up getting nearly straight A’s and reciting Shakespeare. Unfortunately, not everyone can be rescued. One student is arrested for murder and taken away by the cops but McKenna is still willing to be there for that student. McKenna doesn’t give up on his students and, unlike that music teacher in The Class of 1984, he doesn’t allow them to fall through a skylight either.
The George McKenna Story is a predictable film. It’s easy to guess which student will be saved by McKenna’s approach and which student will end up getting stabbed in a gang fight and which student will end up in prison. That said, the film definitely benefits from Denzel Washington in the lead role. Washington exudes confidence from the minute that he appears on screen and you’re left with little doubt that if anyone could reform a school simply through good intentions, it would definitely be Denzel Washington.
Today’s blast from the past comes to use from 1982.
In A Very Delicate Matter, teenager Kristin Sorenson (Lori-Nan Engler) spends the summer working at a camp. After her nominal boyfriend, Greg Pscharapolus (Zach Galligan), fails to call her even once, Kirstin ends up dating her superhot co-worker, Larry (future daytime drama star Grant Aleksander, making his television debut). Once summer ends, Kristin returns home where Greg apologizes for not calling her. Kristin takes Greg back and decides not to tell him about Larry. But then Kristin gets a call from Larry. Larry tells her that she might want to go by the free clinic and get some penicillin because Larry’s got gonorrhea and there’s a good chance to Kristin now has it as well. And, since Kristin and Greg previously spent a day making up, Greg might have it too!
The plot description probably makes A Very Delicate Matter sound considerably campier than it is. For the most part, this is a sensitive and nonjudgmental film, one in which no one is portrayed as being a villain. (As one doctor points out, even Larry showed more courage than most by immediately calling Kristin and letting her know what was going on.) While the two leads both give good performances (with Galligan just two years away from starring in Gremlins), the film is stolen by Marta Kober and John Didrichsen, who play the best friends of Kristen and Greg and who have a nice flirtatious chemistry with each other. Just because your friend has a social disease, the film seems to be saying, don’t give up on love. Marta Kober is probably best known for Friday the 13th Part 2, which featured its own warning about having unprotected sex at a summer camp.
First released in 1985, Prizzi’s Honor tells the story of Charley Partanna (Jack Nicholson), a blue collar guy who lives in Brooklyn and who is a hard-working hit man for the Prizzi crime family. Charley is the son of Angelo (John Randolph), who is the right-hand man to the family’s elderly but still ruthless Don (William Hickey). In the past, Charley came close to marrying the Don’s daughter, Maerose Prizzi (Anjelica Huston), and he is almost as much a member of the family as the Don’s two sons, Eduardo (Robert Loggia) and Dominic (Lee Richardson).
While attending a family wedding, Charley meets and is immediately infatuated with a woman named Irene Walker (Kathleen Turner). Later, when Charley is sent to California to kill a man who robbed one of the family’s Vegas casinos, he is shocked to discover that the man is Irene’s husband. Irene swears that she didn’t have anything to do with the casino theft and, after a whirlwind courtship, Charley and Irene get married in Mexico. What Charley doesn’t know (but eventually discovers) is that Irene is herself a professional killer. While Charley and Irene try to balance work and love, Maerose conspires to turn the family against Irene and win Charley back.
Directed by the legendary John Huston, Prizzi’s Honor is pitch black comedy about two hard-working people who kill for a living. (The film’s big set piece is an extended sequence in which Charley and Irene’s attempt to pull a job together goes wrong in every way and they end up arguing about their relationship while dragging dead bodies from one room to another.) Though Prizzi’s Honor was released long before the series premiered on HBO, the film feels almost like a companion piece to The Sopranos, full of mobsters who are not as clever as they think they are and who struggle to uphold the old ways in an increasingly complicated world. Particularly when compared to the gangster who populate a film like TheGodfather, the Prizzis are defined by their pettiness. If Don Corleone epitomized wisdom and honor, Don Prizzi epitomizes someone who holds onto power solely for power’s sake.
Prizzi’s Honor is one of those films that probably seemed a bit more revolutionary when it was first released than it does today. At this point, we’ve seen so many films about hired killers who have quirky conversations while carrying out their work that the mix of violence and dark humor can feel almost like a cliché. As well, there are certain parts of the film, like the opening wedding sequence, that feel as if they go on for just a few minutes too long, as if John Huston himself was not always comfortable with the balance between the dark drama and the comedy of mob manners. That said, Jack Nicholson, Kathleen Turner (who gives a performance worthy of the great femme fatales of film noir), Anjelica Huston, John Randolph, and especially William Hickey all give strong enough performances to hold the audience’s attention and the film’s finale cuts to the point in such a way that it leaves you reconsidering everything that you’ve previously seen. Prizzi’s Honor has its flaws but Nicholson and Turner have such chemistry that the film’s ending sticks with you.
Prizzi’s Honor was nominated for 8 Oscars, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, and Best Supporting Actor for William Hickey. (Oddly, Kathleen Turner was not nominated for playing Irene.) In the end, it only won one Oscar that year, for supporting actress Anjelica Huston. The Oscars that year were dominated by a far more convention love story, Out of Africa.
First released in 1977, Double Nickels tells the story of two California highway patrolman. Smokey (Jack Vacek) and Ed (Ed Abrams) have been tasked with enforcing the speed limit but they’re usually too busy chasing each other up and down the highway to worry about doing their job and, in fact, they even have a friendly relationship with the local street racers.
Now, you may think Smokey and Ed are just wasting the tax payer’s money by taking such a casual attitude towards their work and technically, you’re right. But let’s be honest. Nobody likes the speed limit. There’s a reason why it’s usually the rural speed limit signs that end up getting used for target practice. Smokey and Ed are a part of the system for the paycheck but, deep down, they hate the system just as much as the rest of us do. They’re fighting the Man by taking his money and refusing to enforce his rules.
Anyway, one day, Smokey and Ed pull over George (George Cole). George explains that he’s got a pretty good thing going as a repo man. He and his associates drive up and down the California highways, repossessing cars for non-payment. George says that he could always use some help and Smokey and Ed decided to take him up on the offer. The only problem is that, as employees of the Highway Patrol, they’re not allowed to moonlight. So, when they repossess a car, they have to do it without getting caught by either the local police or the car’s former owners.
Double Nickels establishes its pattern early on. Smokey and Ed stake out a house and see the car that they’re repossessing. They repossess the car. They end up getting chased around by either the cops or the car’s owner or both. Smokey and Ed trade a few lame quips and then flirt with their waitress girlfriends. Eventually, George realizes that the people who have hired him are actually car thieves and Smokey and Ed have to break up the car theft ring but, regardless of any individual complications, the pattern pretty much remains the same throughout the film, with mild comedic moments followed by an elaborate car chase.
As long as the film focuses on the cars, it’s fine. The cars are the true star of the film. Jack Vacek and several other members of the cast and crew were previously involved with the production of the original Gone In 60 Seconds. Double Nickels never comes anywhere close to being as entertaining as Gone In 60Seconds but the car chases are still exciting enough to hold the viewer’s attention. Where Double Nickels struggles is whenever the focus shifts to the guys driving the car, as neither Jack Vacek nor Ed Arbams were particularly charismatic actors and neither really had the comedic timing necessary to pull off the film’s humor.
Despite its flaws, Double Nickels does have something of a following. Its popularity actually makes sense. Because the film’s plot is so simple, you can literally start watching the film at any point and automatically know exactly what’s going on. The makers of Double Nickels understood that, above all else, audiences love to watch fast cars do their thing.
Through the Shattered Lens 