On this date, in 1941, future director George Pan Cosmatos was born in Italy. Cosmatos would go on to direct some of the most financially successfully (if critically lambasted) films of the 80s. He’s also credited as being the director on Tombstone, though it’s generally agreed that Cosmatos largely deferred to Kurt Russell on that film. (Cosmatos was a last minute replacement for the film’s original director.)
Other than Tombstone, Cosmatos is best-known for the films that he did with Sylvester Stallone. And today’s scene that I love comes from the 1986 film, Cobra. Cobra stars Stallone as a motorcycle-riding cop who never asks question when he can just shoot a big gun instead. Stallone’s show-no-mercy attitude may upset his superiors but it turns out to be just what’s needed to take care of a murderous cult. Now, Cobra may be a fairly dumb film but it does have one sequence that pretty much epitomizes an era. If nothing else, George Pan Cosmatos deserves to be remembered for Cobra’s famous robot montage. While Sylvester Stallone searches for the murders who are decimating his city, model Brigitte Nielsen poses with a bunch of life-size robots.
One reason why this sequence works is because it really does seem to come out of nowhere. The film goes from Stallone promising to wipe out the bad guys to a bunch of adorable robots. It’s all very 80s. And we have George Pan Cosmatos to thank for it.
When a madman pulls out a gun in the middle of a supermarket, he starts out by firing at the produce department. He doesn’t shoot at anyone who works in the produce department. Instead, in slow motion, he blows away cabbages and apples. Then he shoots a shopping cart. He finally gets around to shooting one innocent bystander after telling him to walk down an aisle.
Outside the supermarket, a 1950 Mercury Monterey Coupe pulls up. The personalized license plate reads Awsum 50. The car’s driver (Sylvester Stallone) steps out of the car. His name is Lt. Cobretti but everyone calls him Cobra. Detective Monte (Andy Robinson, who played the killer in Dirty Harry) tells Cobra to stay out of it. Cobra ignores him and goes into the store.
The guman raves that he’s a part of the “new world.”
“You wasted a kid for nothing,” Cobra says. “Now, I think it’s time to waste you.”
And then Cobra does just that.
After getting yelled at by his superiors, Cobra drives back to his apartment, throws away his mail, and uses a pair of scissors as an eating utensil. Just another day in the life of Cobra.
If you hadn’t already guessed, Cobra is the ultimate Sylvester Stallone-in-the-80s Cannon film. In 1985, Stallone could do any film that he wanted to and, even if he wasn’t the director, the job was usually given to someone who wouldn’t stand in the way of letting Sly achieve his vision. (That vision usually involved Stallone getting all of the good shots while everyone else dove for cover.) Stallone is credited as the writer of Cobra and whatever else you can say about the man and his films, Stallone the screenwriter knew exactly what Stallone the actor was good at. There’s not much meaningful dialogue in Cobra and most of it is made up of either Stallone threatening to shoot people or characters like the Night Slasher (Brian Thompson) bragging about how Cobra can’t touch him because of the constitution. There is more intentional humor in Cobra than I think most people realize and there are a few scenes that only make sense if you accept that Stallone was poking fun of his own monosyllabic image. For the most part, though, Cobra is nonstop violence from beginning to end.
Amazingly, Cobra started out as Beverly Hills Cops. Before Eddie Murphy was cast as Axel Foley, Beverly Hills Cop was briefly meant to be a Sylvester Stalllone film. Stallone, however, rewrote the script and took out most of the humor. After the film’s producers reminded Stallone that they were trying to make a comedy, Stallone left the project and most of his ideas ended up in the script for Cobra. The film features a murderous cult, led by the knife-wielding Night Slasher, that is determined to destroy anyone who they think is standing in the way of the “new world.” Only Cobra can both stop them and also protect the life of their latest target, a model named Ingrid Knudsen (Brigitte Nielsen). It’s hard to imagine Eddie Murphy dealing with any of this but it’s perfect for Stallone.
Cobra is a live-action cartoon and Cobra’s battle with the Night Slasher should be taken as seriously as He-Man’s battles with Skeletor. The Night Slasher has no motivation beyond just being evil, Cobra never runs out of bullets or takes even a piece of shrapnel despite having hundreds of cultists shooting at him, and there’s an extended sequence where Ingrid poses with life-size robots. Cobra chews on a toothpick and wears dark glasses and that’s all the personality he needs. After all, crime is the disease and he’s the cure.
The 1964 film, Zorba the Greek, tells the story of two very different friends.
Basil (Alan Bates) is a writer. (“Poetry, essays,” he diffidently says when asked what he writes.) Basil is British-Greek but, having been raised in the UK, he allows his British side to dominate. In this film, that means that Basil is very polite and very reserved. He’s not the type to attempt to flirt with someone who he doesn’t know. He has never spontaneously broken into dance. When he is offered a drink, he asks for tea and is shocked to receive rum instead. If the film was taking place a few decades later, one gets the feeling that Basil would describe Love, Actually as being an okay movie “for people who like that sort of thing.”
And then there’s Zorba (Anthony Quinn). Unlike the wealthy and well-educated Basil, Zorba is a peasant and he’s proud of it. He works hard but he plays hard too and there’s nothing that Zorba loves more than the sound of good music. Zorba not only drinks rum but makes sure that everyone else gets their fill as well. Zorba dances whenever he feels like it. Zorba is larger than life, an unfailingly enthusiastic man who is determined to enjoy whatever time he has left in his life.
When Zorba and Basil first meet, Basil is heading to Crete where he’ll be trying to reopoen a mine that was left to him by his father. As for Zorba, he’s looking for work and, as he explains it, he has tons of experience working as a miner. Though Basil is, at first, reluctant to hire someone who he’s just met, Zorba talks him into it. As quickly becomes apparent, the exuberant Zorba can talk people into almost anything.
You can probably guess where all of this is going. Zorba teaches Basil how to embrace life, which in this film means embracing the Greek side of his heritage. It takes a while, of course. Basil is an extremely reluctant protegé and a good deal of the film’s humor comes from just how uncomfortable Basil occasionally gets with his newfound friend. That said, you don’t have to be a psychic to guess that eventually, the two of them will share a dance on the beach. It may be predictable but that’s not to say that Zorba the Greek isn’t a good film. It’s a very good and entertaining movie, featuring a justifiably famous soundtrack and also one of Anthony Quinn’s best and most exuberant performances.
In fact, Quinn is so perfectly cast as Zorba that he occasionally tends to overshadow Alan Bates, who is equally good but in a different way. In fact, I would say that Bates probably had the more difficult role. Whereas Zorba (and Quinn) spends the entire movie instigating, Basil (and Bates) spends the entire movie reacting. It’s difficult to make passivity watchable but Bates manages to do it.
Of course, Zorba isn’t just a comedy about an unlikely friendship. About halfway through the film, there’s a moment of shocking brutality involving a young widow played by Irene Pappas. It took me totally by surprise and it left me a bit shaken. (It also reminded me a bit of another European film featuring Irene Pappas, Lucio Fulci’s Don’t Torture A Duckling.) It’s a scene that serves as a reminder that 1) not every peasant is Zorba the Greek and 2) friendship and love cannot end darkness but it can make it all a little more bearable.
Zorba the Greek was nominated for Best Picture but it lost to My Fair Lady.
Through the Shattered Lens 