This is from 1939.
Music Video of the Day: Do The Bartman by Bart Simpson (1990, directed by Brad Bird)
Rest in peace, Bryan Loren. Loren was a recording artist who also wrote songs for everyone from Michael Jackson to Whitney Houston and Sting but a generation will always remember him best for writing Do The Bartman.
And yes, this video was directed by the same Brad Bird who later directed The Incredibles, Ratatouille, and Mission Impossible — Ghost Protocol.
Enjoy!
Review: Fallout (Season 2, Episode 7 “The Handoff”)

“If you have to hurt people, God won’t judge you. Don’t think of them as human beings. Think of them as Americans.” — Joan Harper
Episode 7 of Fallout season 2, “The Handoff,” sneaks up on you like a radstorm on the horizon—one of those late-season gut checks that reshuffles priorities without much fanfare. It’s got ambition oozing from every irradiated pore, bouncing between mind-bending Vault-Tec tech, vault-bound soap opera blowouts, and pre-war nightmares that hit way too close to home. The sprawl can feel chaotic at times, with not every character getting their full due, but the thematic throughline—how far will you go to survive, and what does it cost your soul?—keeps it cohesive and compelling. Dark humor peppers the bleakness, moral lines blur like fallout haze, and by the end, you’re left wondering who’s really pulling the strings in this wasteland mess.
Kicking things off with a bang—or more like a suicide bomber’s blast—the episode dives straight into a harrowing pre-war flashback spotlighting a young Steph Harper and her mother Joan, played with steely desperation by Natasha Henstridge. They’re clawing their way out of the Uranium City internment camp, a grim U.S. holding pen for Canadian citizens rounded up in the Resource Wars’ fever pitch. Power-armored goons close in, hurling firepower and slurs amid the pandemonium, until Joan grabs her kid and hisses that unforgettable line: “Don’t think of them as human beings. Think of them as Americans.” Oof. It’s a dehumanizing gut-punch that sets the episode’s tone right away, illustrating how the pre-apocalypse world was already a powder keg of nationalism run amok, where “us vs. them” justified any atrocity. And talk about prescient or coincidental timing—this drops amid 2026’s real-world headlines of U.S.-Canada friction, from Trump’s tariff saber-rattling and Davos snubs to wild talk of military “hypotheticals” and economic arm-twisting between the North American neighbors. Whether the writers had a crystal ball or just nailed the evergreen vibe of border paranoia, it makes the fiction feel like a mirror held up to today’s geopolitics, amplifying the episode’s warnings about how quickly “allies” turn into existential threats.
That raw survival instinct bleeds seamlessly into Lucy’s arc, which powers the hour like a fusion core. Trapped in a gleaming Vault-Tec bunker, she’s stuck playing house with her dad Hank, who’s equal parts folksy mentor and corporate ghoul. The star of the show here is their memory-reprogramming gizmo—a hulking console that dials memories up, down, or into oblivion like tweaking a Pip-Boy radio. Hank gives her the tour on a goofy golf cart joyride through empty offices, explaining it with the enthusiasm of a salesman hawking timeshares: boost the happy bits, erase the trauma, rinse and repeat. It’s genius-level creepy, transforming what could be bland sci-fi into a satire of corporate wellness gone murderous. Vault-Tec didn’t invent evil; they just bureaucratized it, turning ethical nightmares into quarterly performance metrics. Lucy starts off hopeful, probing for the father she remembers from Vault 33, but those sterile hallways and his breezy justifications erode her faith layer by layer. The awkward father-daughter chats—half bonding session, half indoctrination—build real tension, showing her idealism cracking under the weight of his casual complicity.
Then comes the dinner scene, a masterclass in quiet devastation. Lucy clocks the NCR soldier she’d warmed to earlier, now a vacant-eyed tray jockey slinging slop with a lobotomized grin. Boom—personal loss made visceral. No swelling score or slow-mo needed; it’s the everyday horror of a friend erased that ignites her fire. She snaps, cuffing Hank to the kitchen drawer in a moment that’s equal parts petty revenge and profound symbolism. No more running from the truth, pops. Ella Purnell nails the transformation: Lucy’s not snapping into cynicism, she’s forging resolve from the ashes of naivety. Her wide-eyed wasteland optimism was always her superpower, but here it matures into a fierce moral compass that doesn’t bend for family ties or Vault-Tec spin. It’s the episode’s emotional core, proving Fallout shines brightest when it grounds big ideas in intimate betrayals.
Meanwhile, Vault 32 delivers the chaos quotient with Steph’s implosion, riffing off the flashback’s desperation in a claustrophobic, community-drama wrapper. Steph’s been teetering on insecure overlord vibes all season—fake-it-till-you-make-it overseer masking cracks with smiles and status games. But Woody’s shattered glasses fished from the garbage disposal? That’s the innocuous spark that lights the fuse. Chet, nursing his quiet rage, hits critical mass smack in the middle of their wedding. Steph bulldozing ahead with vows while the room simmers? Cringe gold. When Chet unloads publicly—secrets, lies, the works—it cascades into pandemonium: guests flip to an angry horde, baying for blood as they chase her into the Overseer’s lair. It’s Fallout‘s sweet spot—pulpy melodrama meets social horror, exposing vault life as a fragile illusion of civility. One bad call, one hidden body, and poof: the social contract shreds. Steph morphs from punchline to predator, cornered and feral, hinting she’s capable of worse. The handheld camerawork ramps the frenzy, trapping you in the mob’s ugly momentum, while the petty human stakes keep it relatable amid the apocalypse schlock.
Maximus pulls a solid B-plot shift, hunkered in an NCR gear depot where he finally claims power armor like it’s his birthright. Gone’s the jittery Brotherhood hopeful; enter a guy starting to fill out the role, clanking around with newfound purpose. Aaron Moten plays it understated—no hero pose, just incremental grit that nods to his growth without overshadowing the mains. It’s smart table-setting: the season’s been chipping at Brotherhood dogma, and Maximus suiting up feels like him inching toward their ideal, blind spots and all. Could use more introspection, sure, but it plants seeds for faction fireworks down the line.
Norm? Rough week. His subplot—eavesdropped identity slip, knockout punch, prisoner drag—teases intrigue but fizzles into logistics. It’s the script shuffling pieces, not diving into his vault-rat cunning or isolation. Fans of his sly outsider lens might gripe at the neglect, highlighting the episode’s tightrope walk over ensemble overload.
Technically, it’s a banger. Vault-Tec’s retro-futurist sheen—neon signs, buzzing fluorescents—clashes beautifully with the soul-crushing tech, like a twisted ad for the American Dream. The wedding revolt goes gritty and kinetic, sweat and shouts filling the frame. Purnell anchors the heart, Steph’s portrayer the hysteria, Henstridge the haunting cameo. Sound design pops too: distant echoes in the offices, the wedding’s rising clamor, that bomber’s muffled roar.
Balance is the bugaboo—too many irons mean rushed beats for Maximus and Norm. Yet it embodies Fallout‘s messy ethos: no tidy arcs, just grinding compromises under institutional thumbs. The Uranium City prelude warns of pre-war poison still pumping through the veins, Lucy’s defiance spotlights personal agency, Vault 32’s riot proves communities devour their own. “The Handoff” probes free will amid rigged games, from neural hacks to tribal loyalties, all laced with wasteland wit. Flawed? Marginally. Essential? Hell yes. The finale looms like an Enclave drop-ship—everything teeters, primed for Fallout‘s brand of irradiated reckoning.
Fallout Season 2 Episodes
Artwork of the Day: Supernatural (by Henry Fox)
Music Video of the Day: I Want You By KISS (1976, directed by ????)
This song is from KISS’s fifth studio album, Rock and Roll Over. This music video is from the age of simple music videos, when the focus was more on the band playing than on trying to tell a story with song. When its comes to KISS, their simple videos, like this one, are the best. Also, their videos with the famous KISS makeup are better than the videos they shot during the period of time when they tried to abandon their trademark look.
Enjoy!
Brad’s Thoughts on Season 1 of LANDMAN, Starring Billy Bob Thornton!

Taylor Sheridan has become a fairly big part of my life over the last decade. It started when I saw HELL OR HIGH WATER in the movie theater back in 2016. It was one of my favorite movies of the year, and it was written by a guy named Taylor Sheridan. Well, the next year brought us WIND RIVER, which was both written and directed by Taylor Sheridan, and it was one of my favorite movies of 2017. Then came the series YELLOWSTONE, which was created by Taylor Sheridan and began airing in 2018. I didn’t watch the first couple of seasons, but I thought it looked good and even bought the first season on DVD when I saw it for sale at Wal Mart. When my wife Sierra came home from performing her nursely duties at the hospital and told me that everyone was saying that we needed to watch YELLOWSTONE, I informed her that I just so happened to own Season 1 on DVD. So, we popped it in the DVD player, and we were soon obsessed with the world of the Duttons. My wife took special joy in the characters of Beth (Kelly Reilly) and Rip (Cole Hauser), while John Dutton (Kevin Costner) and Rip kept my attention. I’ll admit that it scared me a little bit that Sierra enjoyed Beth so much, and I’m glad to report that, up to this point, she has not started trying to emulate her actions in real life!
When YELLOWSTONE ended its run at the end of 2024, the Paramount network was putting a major marketing push into their latest “Taylor Sheridan” series, that being LANDMAN, which had started its first season around the same time YELLOWSTONE was wrapping up its final season. I’m a huge fan of actor Billy Bob Thornton, so the fact that he was headlining a series set in Texas oil country automatically piqued my curiosity. Not ready to commit to 10 hours’ worth of LANDMAN episodes quite yet, we put the show on the backburner for a bit, knowing that we could jump in and watch it whenever we wanted to. Well, this past weekend, we got snowed in here in Central Arkansas, so I asked Sierra if she’d like to watch a few episodes of LANDMAN. Needless to say, over the course of the day we watched every episode of Season 1. I really enjoyed the first season and decided to share some of my thoughts with you.
First off, if I’m going to commit to watching 10 hours’ worth of anything, I need to really like at least some of the characters. I don’t just like Billy Bob Thornton’s portrayal of the “Landman” of the title, his Tommy Norris is now one of my favorite characters that he’s ever played. He’s the ultimate realist, because no matter what situation he finds himself in, whether he’s dealing with the head of a drug cartel, the head of his oil company, or his ex-wife, he tackles every situation by uniquely framing the specific issues in a matter of moments and then providing solutions that appeal to his audience’s most base instincts. Alternatively hilarious, serious, heartbreaking and genius, Thornton gives a masterful performance that I don’t think anyone else could have pulled off any more effectively. His ex-wife Angela (Ali Larter) is probably the toughest of all for him to deal with as his own sense of self-preservation seems to go out the window whenever she’s around. Ali Larter’s performance as Angela is loud, brash, attention-seeking, hypersexual, and every so often, just vulnerable enough that you can kind of like her. I think she’s great, and quite sexy, in the role. Michelle Randolph and Jacob Lofland get a lot of screen time in the first season as their children, Ainsley Norris and Cooper Norris. Michelle is cute and spunky, definitely her mother’s daughter, but she also loves her dad so much. I like her. Lofland, who, like Thornton, is from my state of Arkansas, has a meatier role, having to deal with tragedy from the very beginning and then serious family drama as the season plays out. It’s not a showy role, but he does a solid job. The other performance that I really enjoy throughout season 1 comes from Jon Hamm as the head of the oil company, Monty Miller. I kept referring to him as J.R. Ewing as I watched because he’s the big boss. He’s the person that Tommy Norris calls when he can’t solve their problems. Unlike J.R. Ewing, although Miller is a tough businessman, he’s also a committed family man who tries to be there for his wife Cami (Demi Moore) and their daughters when they need him. He is as hard-nosed as it gets in his business dealings, though, and it’s easy to see why he had emerged as the main guy over Tommy. I did want to shout out the actors Colm Feore, James Jordan and Mustafa Speaks as various employees of the oil company who provide different elements of humor and toughness to the proceedings over the course of the season. Finally, as far as the primary cast, while prominently credited throughout the first season, Demi Moore has relatively little to do until the very end of season 1. If you’re a big fan of hers, just know that going in. Her character seems primed to be a big part of season 2, though, so it will be interesting to see where that goes.
Second, like with any popular dramatic TV series, LANDMAN Season 1 contains some storylines that I really enjoy, while there are some that I don’t really care for. Where LANDMAN really works for me is when it features Billy Bob Thornton’s Tommy Norris as a fixer of some sort. It was in these storylines that we get to see his ability to use his intelligence, communication skills, and understanding of human nature to come up with solutions that are best for everyone. It might not always be easy, and he might have to take a beating every now and then, but Tommy knows how to get things done, and the show is at its best when it’s focused on him. We see this throughout season 1 as Norris deals with a variety of cartel henchmen, hotshot attorneys, and unhappy leaseholders in order to advance his company, M-Tex’s interests. There are also a few badass moments when it becomes clear that talking won’t get the job done, and even more direct methods will have to be used to get his point across. This usually happens when Tommy’s feeling the need to protect his children. If there is a weakness to the show, for me, it’s the fact that when Tommy Norris isn’t part of the proceedings, I don’t like it nearly as much. For example, while scenes involving Jacob Lofland’s character, Cooper, and the recently widowed young mother Ariana (Paulina Chavez), whose husband was an employee of the company, ramp up the melodrama, they also take up a lot of time, and I don’t find them very appealing. The same can be said when Ali Larter’s character, Angela, and her daughter Ainsley, decide they’re going to volunteer at a nursing home, and then proceed to hook the residents up with alcohol and even take them to a strip club. While I smiled at some of the proceedings, they weren’t realistic and didn’t really add anything to the story. I even found myself worrying about some of the residents, I mean, I’m sure some of their medication was NOT compatible with tequila! I’m guessing that these quibbles really just come down to a matter of personal preference, as I’m sure there are some who enjoy these moments more than I do. I will admit that these scenes are well-acted and performed even if they’re not advancing my favorite parts of the story.
Overall, I really enjoyed season 1 of LANDMAN, and I’m looking forward to jumping into season 2 soon, which is now streaming. The last couple of episodes of season 1 introduced or elevated some very interesting characters who will have more prominent roles moving forward (played by Andy Garcia and Demi Moore), and peaking ahead, season 2 also appears to have some interesting additions to the cast (I’m looking at you Sam Elliott). I’m looking forward to the next 10 hours of fun!
Guilty Pleasure No. 101: The Executioner Series (by Don Pendleton)

The Executioner series by Don Pendleton is one of those long-running action sagas that practically defines the phrase “guilty pleasure.” Kicking off in 1969 with War Against the Mafia, it introduces Mack Bolan, a Vietnam veteran whose homecoming turns into a nightmare and pushes him into a one-man war against organized crime. With an astonishing total of over 600 books across the main series and its spin-offs, it stands as one of the most prolific runs in pulp fiction history, delivering a steady diet of ambushes, car bombs, and last-stand shootouts, all orbiting a hero who lives somewhere between soldier, avenger, and urban legend. It’s even seeing a resurgence lately, with many original titles now available as e-books through Open Road Media, drawing in a new wave of digital readers hungry for retro action thrills.
The hook is simple and primal. Bolan comes back from Vietnam to discover his family destroyed by Mafia loan sharks, their lives shattered by debt, intimidation, and violence. The man who survived jungle warfare as a sniper becomes a domestic insurgent, redirecting the tactics of war onto American soil. In War Against the Mafia and the early novels, there’s a grim, almost workmanlike edge as he stalks mobsters through streets and back alleys, treating cities like new combat zones. Chapters move quickly, with Pendleton leaning into clear, muscular prose: weapons described with fetishistic precision, tactics laid out like field reports, and action beats that rarely pause for introspection longer than a sentence or two.
Those first runs of books form a surprisingly cohesive arc. Bolan’s war starts local and then scales outward: first the hometown syndicate, then larger crime families, then international networks and political entanglements. Titles like Death Squad, Battle Mask, and Miami Massacre escalate the conflict, dropping Bolan into fresh arenas—new cities, new bosses, new layers of corruption—without ever really changing the fundamental formula. Each volume is basically a new operation: recon, infiltration, explosion. There’s comfort in that clockwork repetition, especially if you’re coming to the series for the thrill of seeing how Bolan will dismantle this week’s nest of villains, a pattern that sustains all 600-plus entries.
As pulp entertainment, the series doesn’t pretend to be anything but what it is: ruthlessly efficient action storytelling. Bolan isn’t written as a richly conflicted psychological study; he’s a vector. He thinks tactically, talks sparingly, and acts decisively. When he pauses to reflect, it’s usually to reaffirm his personal code—his obligation to protect innocents, his hatred for predators, his sense that the “jungle” followed him home from the war. That stripped-down approach makes the books read almost like mission logs. You don’t linger with him; you move with him, from weapon cache to kill zone to escape route.
The “guilty pleasure” part comes from how unapologetically the series indulges in its own extremes. Villains are drawn in thick strokes: sadistic enforcers, greedy bosses, corrupt officials, each more deserving of a bullet than the last. Bolan is judge, jury, and firing squad, and the narrative rarely questions whether that’s a good thing. The violence is frequent and often spectacular—blown-up cars, shredded safehouses, street battles that leave staggering body counts. It channels the same energy as grindhouse action cinema and ’70s vigilante films, but in prose form that you can tear through in a single sitting.
Taken purely as escapism, this is the series’ appeal: it offers a fantasy of absolute efficacy. Problems are solved through planning, courage, and overwhelming firepower, not through compromise or negotiation. If you’ve ever been frustrated with red tape and institutional inertia, Mack Bolan is the fantasy of ripping all that away and going straight to the source with a rifle. That’s also where the discomfort starts to creep in if you read the books with a more critical eye.
From a contemporary perspective, the vigilante ethos can feel both dated and unsettling. The books largely treat legal systems as ineffectual and police as either helpless, compromised, or quietly cheering Bolan from the sidelines. There’s little space for nuance when it comes to morality. That black-and-white worldview gives the action its propulsive drive, but it also flattens complexity: systemic issues collapse into a handful of “bad guys” to be eliminated. The series reflects the anxieties of its time—post-Vietnam disillusionment, fear of organized crime, distrust of institutions—but it rarely interrogates them.
Characterization is another weak spot, though it’s almost a feature of the genre. Outside of Bolan, most people function as types rather than fully realized individuals: the honorable cop, the tragic informant, the doomed love interest, the sneering mob lieutenant. Women, in particular, often feel like afterthoughts—romantic interludes, victims in need of saving, or temporary allies who don’t really alter the trajectory of Bolan’s mission. If you’re looking for layered relationships, you won’t find many here; the stories are built on momentum, not emotional intricacy.
As the series goes on and other writers take over, the tone and focus inevitably shift. The core template—lone warrior versus entrenched evil—remains, but the enemies expand from the Mafia to terrorists, cartels, rogue states, and shadowy conspiracies. Depending on your taste, that either keeps the concept fresh or dilutes Pendleton’s original blue-collar vendetta into something more generic and interchangeable with other men’s adventure titles. The early books carry a rough, personal edge; later entries sometimes feel more like franchise installments than deeply felt passion projects, stretched across hundreds of volumes.
All of that said, it’s hard to deny the series’ impact. Mack Bolan is a clear ancestor to a long line of fictional warriors and vigilantes, from paperback commandos to gun-toting comic book anti-heroes. You can see echoes of his DNA in countless characters who blend military skill with personal trauma and a private war against evil. In that sense, The Executioner isn’t just a pulpy distraction; it’s a foundational text for a whole corner of modern action storytelling.
Reading it today, the best way to approach The Executioner is with eyes open and expectations calibrated. It is not subtle, not especially nuanced, and not interested in long philosophical digressions about the nature of justice. It is fast, blunt, and engineered to scratch a very specific itch—now even more accessible thanks to Open Road Media’s e-book editions breathing fresh life into the saga. If you’re comfortable with that—if you want a hard-edged, morally stark, action-first series that feels like flipping through a stack of R-rated VHS tapes—then Mack Bolan’s war is easy to fall into and surprisingly hard to quit, even after 600 books.
If you’re curious, the ideal entry point is still the beginning: War Against the Mafia and the couple of books that follow. Those early volumes give you the raw version of the character and the template everyone else later imitates. If they don’t work for you, the rest of the series almost certainly won’t. But if you find yourself staying up late to squeeze in “just one more chapter,” that’s when you know the guilty pleasure has done its job.
Previous Guilty Pleasures
- Half-Baked
- Save The Last Dance
- Every Rose Has Its Thorns
- The Jeremy Kyle Show
- Invasion USA
- The Golden Child
- Final Destination 2
- Paparazzi
- The Principal
- The Substitute
- Terror In The Family
- Pandorum
- Lambada
- Fear
- Cocktail
- Keep Off The Grass
- Girls, Girls, Girls
- Class
- Tart
- King Kong vs. Godzilla
- Hawk the Slayer
- Battle Beyond the Stars
- Meridian
- Walk of Shame
- From Justin To Kelly
- Project Greenlight
- Sex Decoy: Love Stings
- Swimfan
- On the Line
- Wolfen
- Hail Caesar!
- It’s So Cold In The D
- In the Mix
- Healed By Grace
- Valley of the Dolls
- The Legend of Billie Jean
- Death Wish
- Shipping Wars
- Ghost Whisperer
- Parking Wars
- The Dead Are After Me
- Harper’s Island
- The Resurrection of Gavin Stone
- Paranormal State
- Utopia
- Bar Rescue
- The Powers of Matthew Star
- Spiker
- Heavenly Bodies
- Maid in Manhattan
- Rage and Honor
- Saved By The Bell 3. 21 “No Hope With Dope”
- Happy Gilmore
- Solarbabies
- The Dawn of Correction
- Once You Understand
- The Voyeurs
- Robot Jox
- Teen Wolf
- The Running Man
- Double Dragon
- Backtrack
- Julie and Jack
- Karate Warrior
- Invaders From Mars
- Cloverfield
- Aerobicide
- Blood Harvest
- Shocking Dark
- Face The Truth
- Submerged
- The Canyons
- Days of Thunder
- Van Helsing
- The Night Comes for Us
- Code of Silence
- Captain Ron
- Armageddon
- Kate’s Secret
- Point Break
- The Replacements
- The Shadow
- Meteor
- Last Action Hero
- Attack of the Killer Tomatoes
- The Horror at 37,000 Feet
- The ‘Burbs
- Lifeforce
- Highschool of the Dead
- Ice Station Zebra
- No One Lives
- Brewster’s Millions
- Porky’s
- Revenge of the Nerds
- The Delta Force
- The Hidden
- Roller Boogie
- Raw Deal
- Death Merchant Series
- Ski Patrol
Artwork of the Day: Pep Stories (by Earle Bergey)
Music Video of the Day: Eat My Dust! by Dead Pony (2026, dir by Zak Pinchin)
When standing in front of a wind machine, use caution.
Enjoy!
Film Review: Fort Apache, The Bronx (dir by Daniel Petrie)
Welcome to Fort Apache, The Bronx.
Shot on location, the 1981 film of the same name takes place in one of the toughest police precincts in New York City. The film opens with a prostitute (Pam Grier) walking up to a police car in the middle of the night and promptly gunning down the two cops inside. (The scene emphasis on the blood splattering in the squad car makes it all the more disturbing and frightening.) As soon as the cops are dead, people come out of the shadows and immediately start going through their pockets, collecting everything that they can.
Why were the cops killed? There is no real motive, beyond Grier’s prostitute being high on drugs and enjoying the kill. Indeed, we know from the start that Grier is the killer but the cops investigating the case continually ignore her, despite the fact that she’s always wandering around in the background. (Grier is perfectly frightening in the nearly silent role.) The new captain of the precinct, a by-the-book type named Dennis Connolly (Ed Asner), assumes that the killing must have been an organized assassination and he is soon ordering his cops to arrest and interrogate almost anyone that they see. If someone jaywalks, Connolly wants them in the back of a squad car so that they can be interrogated. He offers to give the men two weeks of extra vacation time for every lead that they find. When veteran detective John Joseph Vincent Murphy III (Paul Newman) says that the reward is going to do more damage than good, Connolly dismisses his concerns. Connolly is convinced that he knows how to run the precinct. He views the people who live in the Bronx as being enemies who have to be tamed and controlled. Murphy, who comes from a long line of cops, believes in working with the community as opposed to going strictly by the book.
It’s an episodic film, following Murphy and his partner, Corelli (Ken Wahl), as they try to keep the peace in a neighborhood full of empty lots, abandoned buildings, and horrific poverty. (The film is all the more effective for having actually been shot on location. Looking at the scenery in which everyone is living and working, it’s easy to understand why tempers get so easily frayed.) Corelli is ambitious. Murphy is cynical. When Murphy meets a nurse (Rachel Ticotin), it seems like love at first sight. They’re both survivors of the toughest city in America. But the nurse has a secret of her own. There’s a lot of stories that are told in Fort Apache, The Bronx but few of them have a happy ending.
It’s an effective film, though the structure is occasionally a bit too loose and the generic “cop music” on the soundtrack sometimes makes it seem as if the viewer is watching a cop show on one of the nostalgia channels. The film works because it allows the Bronx itself to be as important a character as the cops played by Newman, Asner, and Wahl. There’s a grittiness to the film that overcomes even the occasional melodramatic moment. In the end, the film suggests that, while cops come and go, the precinct will always remain the same. Killing two drug dealers just allows two more to move in. Reporting on a bad cop, like the one played in the film by Danny Aiello, will only lead to the ostracization of a good cop. To the film’s credit, neither Newman nor Asner are portrayed as being totally correct or totally wrong in their different approaches to police work. Newman is correct about Asner’s heavy-handed tactics creating mistrust and resentment in the community. Asner, however, has a point when he says that a cop killer cannot be allowed to go unpunished.
Paul Newman gives a great performance as Murphy, a role that a lesser actor would have turned into a cliche. Murphy is the latest in a long line of cops and he’s on the verge of abandoning the family business. Newman does a good job of portraying not only Murphy’s burnout but also how his affair with the nurse briefly inspires him to believe that he still might actually be able to make a difference in the world. The film ends on an ambiguous note, one that leaves you with the impression that Murphy couldn’t stop being a cop if he tried. The job may be burning him out but it’s still the only thing he knows.
Fort Apache, The Bronx is not an easy movie to find. Though it did well at the box office (and reportedly inspired shows like Hill Street Blues and NYPD Blue), the film was also controversial because of the way the Bronx was portrayed. While it’s not currently streaming or even available to rent on any of the major sites, I did find a good, age-restricted upload on YouTube. Look for it before someone takes it down.


