Mad Max Resurrects Travis Bickle in "The Drop"

"I'm dying to do the sequel." "VEEERRRY funny."

 I  n 1976, Martin Scorsese gave movie-goers the ultimate anti-hero—a psychopathic, sympathetic, socially incompatible Vietnam veteran taxi driver named Travis Bickle who was determined to rid the streets of New York City of the filth that had contaminated it, turning 13-year-old girls into hookers complete with pimps and other lowlifes that seemed to infest the streets of Brooklyn, Harlem and the Bronx. 

Over the last forty years, filmmakers have tried in vain to replicate Scorsese's ability to create a character audiences could both fear and root for, a character who did bad things which were justifiable; someone imperfect, lonely, who could not fit in. It would seem that the creativity and sympathy that was omnipresent in films of the 70s have been replaced by special effects and sequels and directors with more money than brains. Not so with a sleeper of a film called The Drop from 2014, in which an actor (Tom Hardy) proves he can indeed act without having to wear a mask and disguise his voice (Bane from The Dark Night Rises), or be strapped to the hood of a car with another mask on in another ludicrous sequel: Mad Max Fury Road. 

The Drop tells the story of a small bar in Brooklyn where Bob (Hardy) Saginowski (funny, his name was Max Rockatansky in Fury Road) serves the drinks under the watchful eye of his cousin Marv (played by the great James Gandolfini in his last role before he died), who lost ownership of the bar to a bunch of Chechen mobsters 10 years ago. 

"Cousin Marv's" serves as a frequent "drop" where thousands of illegal dollars are dumped off on special occasions like Superbowl Sunday—the kind of money that is not declared to the IRS—so that it can be collected by a bunch of well-dressed criminals who will surely bolt your leg to the floor of a van, let you bleed out, chop off your arm, and throw you in a river somewhere if you even dare rob from them. 

After two morons decide to do just that and end up stealing $5,000 from the bar, Bob, a stalky and quiet figure who seems unfazed after the thieves had a gun pointed at his head, finds a small pit-bull puppy in a garbage can on his way home. The garbage can's owner Nadia (Noomi Rapace from Prometheus) and Bob decide to take care of the dog, build a friendship, and Bob takes the dog home and raises it. Lo and behold, Nadia has quite a few problems including a suicide attempt and an old nutjob boyfriend, "Eric," who claims he was the dog's rightful owner but decided to beat it and leave it to die in the garbage. Eric is abusive, volatile and seems to want to harm Nadia and the dog but gets a little more than he bargained for after he meets Bob. 

Bob goes to church every day but never gets communion. He is able to cover up appendages which would otherwise be evidence for the police by wrapping them up and throwing them in the river without so much as working up a sweat; he plays with his dog, works nights at the bar and serves as protector to Nadia. Throughout the film he claims he just "tends bar" when being questioned by a detective searching for those who robbed "Cousin Marv's" but he does quite a bit more than that. He is explosive and capable of great violence when Nadia and the dog are threatened, yet, he is likeable. 

Many of The Drop's scenes are filmed at night in a middle-lower class Brooklyn neighborhood and the music accompanying them is very reminiscent of Bernard Hermann's darker parts of Taxi Driver. 

Originally a short story called "Animal Rescue," The Drop tells a simple story of an "ordinary" man who is a bartender, much like the ordinary job Travis Bickle had as a taxi driver, who is imperfect and alone but when pushed, will push back. He is vulnerable yet violent, a criminal with ethics and morals that audiences love to watch. 

A pity it has taken 40 years for us to see such a magnetic persona come to life in a movie that nobody saw. 

Check it out on Netflix!

Pizza and a .mov

In which I make pizza and watch documentaries about Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood.

Don't forget to play back at 1080p!

Historical Terminator is Surprisingly Charming

Shooting me will void your warranty

 B   efore driving to the closest IMAX theater to see Terminator Genysis with my eleven year-old daughter, I gave her a brief history lesson. Together we watched the first five minutes of 1984's The Terminator—which I had first seen on video in 1985—on Netflix, she understood the premise easily, and we headed off to the theater in, you guessed it, a car from 1984.

We stopped off at a local Tim Horton's where our discussion continued to revolve around my "weird car" that's so old it does not even have power steering and after a quick bite to eat, off we went to stand in line with the rest of the products of the Baby Boomer generation who were now taking their own kids to see Mr. "I'll be Back."

The latest version of the now classic story essentially about preventing a retroactive abortion in order to save the world starts off, ironically enough, as a history lesson of the last 31 years of one of the more successful franchises in movie history. The first few minutes pay homage to the original movie and give die hard fans something to drool over until poof, a ludicrous change in the timeline of The Terminator alters things and changes everything we thought we already knew.

Sarah Connor, Kyle Reese and Arnold are all back together again but this time, they are all on the same team. A grizzled Schwarzenegger (the good guy) is still a robot, only his organic outer layer has cleverly aged with time. His hair is grey, his once massive pecs have sagged and his famous biceps are hidden by his black jacket. Now, he's a father figure to Sarah and has already been protecting her since 1973. Kyle thinks he's been sent to once again save Sarah but this time he's under scrutiny from Sarah's surrogate father even though he's probably expected to mate with her in order to create John Connor, the savior of the human race.

To make matters worse, somehow or another, John Connor becomes a villain altered by Cyberdyne systems and is head of Genysis—an "app" that everyone wants as much as the latest iPhone—that has already pre-sold one billion units but when released will ultimately mean the end of the world. Sound ridiculous? It is. 

Surprisingly enough though, this movie is not without its charm, and despite its crazy bus-flipping stunts, dazzling special effects and clever jokes (at one point Arnold is being questioned by two cops Law-and-Order style and they ask each other "Can this guy even speak English?"), most of the charm is generated by, you guessed it: Arnold. There is genuine chemistry between his character who Sarah calls "Pops", Sarah and Kyle.

Sarah (Emilia Clarke) looks like Linda Hamilton (the original Sarah Connor) and even though she might not want to "mate" with Kyle at first and create John, they too have a connection that is somehow palpable and fun to watch.

My daughter, who is definitely not a science fiction fan and had to be lured to the theater with the promise of popcorn liked the film immensely and her favorite character was, you guessed it: Arnold's. 

The Terminator has become "Pops," history has been re-written, the franchise has been tastefully rebooted for a new generation of viewers to enjoy, and like my car, Mr. Schwarzenegger is "old but not obsolete."

Deliverance Challenges Our Belief in The System

Now son, WHO'S YO DADDY?

 "S   ir, it's Corporal Hicks sir." 

"What is it, Corporal?" replied the sergeant.

"Found another one—looks to be from the 21st century."

"It's got the signs?" 

"Sir, yes sir. Portable body scan confirms it sir. About thirty years old, cervical vertebrae one through five in a state of hyper-flexion, shortened extensor pollicis longus muscle on both thumbs, both from over-usage of the old telecommunications devices. She appears to be well dressed and her shoes are imprinted with "Jimmy Choo" on the heel, her tags say she was a lawyer of some sort—a definite believer in the System." "Okay, Corporal, I've heard enough, tag her and bag her, over and out."

Unfortunately, this is not an excerpt from the latest James Cameron movie depicting the downfall of man. As human beings and North Americans, we love and believe in the System. We go to school, educate ourselves, get jobs, make money, buy houses, pay taxes, have children and believe that we are protected and entitled to lead good lives because we have paid our dues and can now watch the hockey game with our feet up.

Over the last forty-three years, we have managed to pervert and abuse the system into a fossil-fuel-using, gluttonous, judgmental society that uses cell phones in a manner that begs for the old phrase in reference to masturbation, "Don't do that too much or you'll go blind."

When was the last time we gave a dollar to a toothless beggar when we were stopped at a traffic light? When was the last time we volunteered our time to help someone who did not own a $40,000 car? To say that we—the educated, the hardworking, the plasma-TV and iPhone-6-owning—think we are special is really an understatement.

What if a movie director and a writer were able to take that system that we believe in so much, and wrap it up and reshape it into a policeman's nightstick? What if they then took that nightstick and inserted it into everyone's rectum so far that it made them vomit? Would that change things?

In 1972, director John Boorman and writer James Dickey teamed up to make a movie about progress, the system, and the imminent death of a small town in the middle of the woods riddled with mountain men who know about as much about technology and city life as we know about how not to waste things like water.

When four businessmen set out on a canoe adventure to see a fictional Georgian river before it is engulfed by the construction of a dam, all in the name of progress, each of them quickly learns that judging a book by its cover and following the system may lead to, at the least, various orifices being violated, or at the very worst, death.

When virgin-like Bobby (Ned Beatty) first sees what appears to be an inbred young man holding a banjo, he doesn't think he can play it. Boy, was he wrong. When Ed (Jon Voight) has to do the unthinkable to survive, he quickly learns that his sophisticated negotiation skills are no match for a toothless cracker hell-bent on using Angelina Jolie's father's mouth for something other than target practice.

When Drew (Ronny Cox, the head villain in 1987's Robocop) realizes that city laws do not apply in the woods he quickly falls victim to the theory Darwin referred to as "survival of the fittest."

Even Lewis (Burt Reynolds) who is both macho and cynical and has his doubts about the "system" is quickly put to the test as to what he will do in order to survive.

Forget The Walking Dead, The Terminator, the Mad Max series and just about every other apocalyptic movie you've ever seen. The way we are living, right now in 2015, we will be the cause of the downfall of Man.

It won't be a virus or a radioactive war, it will be because we have raped this planet of ours and turned it into one giant cellphone.

Perhaps we need to be violated to change our ways. We certainly don't listen to environmentalists or politicians or the few savvy youth of our seemingly doomed generation but, I dare anyone who watches this film not to be shocked into submission and a state of change after viewing one of the most unforgettable rape scenes in movie history that makes this film even more of a masterpiece than it was 43 years ago.

What the "True" Really Means in True Detective

This must be Alaska . . . those mosquitoes are fuckin' huge

 W   hat is it that really drives us to get out of bed in the morning? Is it to "do good" or to "make a difference" and somehow improve things in a world that is constantly getting a little worse each day? If so then then why are we so fascinated with stories of murder, escaped convicts and devastation? What is it we are hiding?

Judging by the success of such "entertainment pieces" as Mad Max: Fury Road and season one of Nic Pizzolatto's True Detective (TD), we are a lot darker than our nicely groomed front lawns and our shiny SUV's with bumper stickers depicting representations of happy families, would have the public believe. If the first episode of season two of TD is any indication of things to come, Pizzolatto has somehow discovered what it is that we are truly searching for when our feet hit the ground each day.

What do California Highway Patrol Officer Paul Woodrugh (essentially "Ponch" from the tv series "Chips"),  young and innocent looking female detective played by Rachel McAdams, Detective Ray (Colin Farell) Velcoro, and "criminal" Frank (Vince Vaughn) Seymon have in common? They are all deeply disturbed and self-destructive in fact, Frank is perhaps the straightest arrow of the bunch.

In just one hour of television we are introduced to a suicidal, albeit somewhat ethical, viagra popping, blow-job receiving cop played by Taylor Kitsch (the high-school football hero from Friday Night Lights); a sexy female detective who's got several problems with a) sex, b)her David Koresh-like father c)gambling and d)booze; a detective father of a pudgy son (the product of a rape, no less) who he's supposedly proud of, whose got issues with booze, abuse, and a brass knuckle he's most definitely quite fond of; and last but not least, a clean cut criminal who is married and attends parties looking like no less than a respected politician. 

All are linked together by the murder of so and so in a setting reminiscent of a David Lynch movie that has shades of Blade Runner and Black Rain thrown into it seemingly just for fun.

Why will we tune in for more next week to watch an "entertainment piece"? Because behind the facade we are experts at staging in our daily lives is a dark side we are too afraid to indulge or much less admit to even having. Ironically, the criminal in the show opitimizes what each of us do every day: hide who and what we actually are. 

Simply put, shows like this that show characters like us, both hidden and fully exposed, make us feel less alone and give meaning to the word "True" in True Detective.

Sad is Good!

"If you say What The Fuck one more time, I'm gonna shame you on Fuckbook" 

 I   s a generation of young people ready to feel sad at the movies again as they did in 1982 in parts of E.T.? Can children raised on youtube and the internet concentrate long enough to comprehend the human psyche and its five components of joy, anger, fear, disgust, and sadness? The folks at Pixar appear to believe that the answer to both of these questions is "Yes" and have made a film that is completely unorthodox in a movie climate blatantly overloaded with sequels, CGI dinosaurs and robots.

Inside Out starts off as its trailers indicated: 11-year-old Riley has five voices in her head which all contribute to who she is (unfotunately, she is not schizophrenic . . . sequel?). Naturally, and in typical Hollywood fashion, the leader of the five is "Joy" making Riley a predominantly happy child.

The happy scenes—although necessary—are relatively boring and predictable until her parents whisk her off to San Francisco and her life takes a dramatic change. Her old friendships crumble, she breaks down and cries in class on her first day in a new school and she quits hockey, sending islands in her mind crashing into an abyss of darkness full of lost and or useless memories.

Joy then takes it upon herself to save Riley and ends up getting lost in her mind along with Sadness who really is the star of the film. It seems that Sadness can't keep her hands off of Riley's happy memories (softball-sized marble-textured objects) and tries to change their color from bright yellow/gold to blue, thereby making them sad. Joy tries to keep Sadness away from the memories of an eleven year old and that's when things get interesting.

As Sadness and Joy make their way through Riley's mind, they encounter her dark subconscious that is guarded and locked, her "train of thought" which literally is a train, and her imaginary friend Bing Bong, who probably deserved a better fate.

While the duo continue to try to figure out how to make it back to Riley's "headquarters"—a kind of command and control center—the viewer is subjected to a self-indulgent animated adventure reminiscent of what Tarantino fell victim to in Inglorious Basterds.

It turns out that indeed, sometimes, we need to be sad and judging from Inside Out's wide success so far and its stellar reviews, children can handle its heavy subject matter as easily as they can text "LOL".

Yes, the folks at Pixar can be considered geniuses for taking a chance at making a film where joy is not all it's cracked up to be, but, they know it all too well.

Shameless Plug

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Maybe you could donate a couple of bucks -- Dog knows these parents need it.