It Has Nothing To Do With The Hall-u-cen-o-gens: Seven Psychopaths (2012)

The hyper-masculine world of the works of Martin McDonagh have been criticized for their terribly misguided use of gender as a means to appropriate hipness and violence, and while this criticism certainly holds a degree of validity, I would contest that artistically speaking, McDonagh's male-oriented films exist partially as a undermining of masculine dominance, as well as a reappropriation of gender divides, ones that cause the male figures to immediately accept the illogical nature of their existing within a wholly single gendered dichotomy, after all, McDonagh is coming out of a post-war Ireland that still seems uncertain on its own future, certainly as it relates to a male ideology.  Furthermore, the detractors of McDonagh's work seem quick to attack the unconventional playwright and filmmaker, without giving equal consideration to the work of Tarantino or Mamet who engage in similar practices with, often less guided motives.  It is rather clear that MacDonagh uses his hyper violence, hyper-masculinity and penchant for political incorrectness, as a means to create a conversation through the absurdity, essentially not much different than the way in which Stephen Colbert uses a falsely absurdist variation of conservatism to undermine the illogical nature of the outdated mode of thinking.  Sure it will be difficult for Seven Psychopaths to obtain the sort of cult following that MacDonagh's earlier work In Bruges received, but this is near entirely a result of the film being championed from the get go by fans of the playwright turned directors earlier work, not to mention the casting of a decidedly cult oriented cast with Waits, Walken and to some degree Harrelson.  What can be said in relation to the directors earlier work is that it takes a decidedly poetic turn in the closing moments of the film, something that In Bruges certainly does, however, in the metacinematic nature of this most recent film by McDonagh, the viewer is provided with very clear foreshadowing to such events, although no amount of preparation truly informs how badass a McDonagh shootout will prove to be, certainly not the multiple and multifaceted ones within Seven Psychopaths.

Seven Psychopaths, like a class McDonagh offering, begins in the hyper-violent and only excels from there with the introduction of a masked killer known as the One'Eyed Jack killer, who is apparently one of seven psychopaths who are to comprise the plot, the title of which is to be the inspiration for the films main protagonist the writer aptly named Marty (Colin Farrell) who is struggling formulating his script aside from knowing that it includes a vengeful Amish man and a suicidal ex-Vietcong.  In fact, his relatively absurd plot seems mundane compared to the unusual job of his friend Billy (Sam Rockwell) and his partner Hans (Christopher Walken) who specialize in dog kidnapping to obtain larger reward money.  Unfortunately, Hans and Billy make the mistake of kidnapping a dog named Bonnie who happens to belong to a high end mob boss named Charlie (Woody Harrelson) a man whose devotion to his puppy is so great that he undertakes a veritable killing spree to assure its safety.  All the while, Marty attempts to properly formulate his script, taking inspiration from the events surrounding the dog, as well as the newspaper articles about the One'Eyed Jack killer, not to mention meeting other psychopaths along the way, particularly the enigmatic Zachariah who, along with his former lover, took it upon themselves to be serial killers of serial killers.  Needless to say, no matter how well Billy, Hans, and eventually Marty, cover their tracks Charlie chases them down, although at this point it is a meeting well-embraced by the crew, especially Billy who believes the shootout to be the perfect ending to Marty's script one with a ton of gore and the quick destruction of Charlie.  Yet when the actual shootout occurs it pans out considerably differently, with a varying set of deaths and a damn perfect use of music.  Luckily for Marty, a message left on a voice recorder helps Marty to find a perfect idea for his films closing moments, although an intercut after the credits begin remind Marty of some of his failed obligations, which may or may not have some deathly results.

What then is the moral/social commentary/philosophical pondering of McDonagh's most recent offering.  It is certainly not a poignant reflection on the state of violence within a global community, because many of the characters fail to be reprimanded for their agressive choices, just as it is certainly in no way an evocation of gender equality, as the female characters within the film serve as narrative boosts for some of the more reserved characters, but with that in mind it also does not create a clear divide between those who are inherently good and those who have a chance to be good, but succumb to the bribery and falsity of wrongdoing, which seems so integral to In Bruges.  Instead, within Seven Psychopaths, McDonagh appears to draw a line between those who are the necessary observers and recorders of change and revolution and those to are direct harbingers in its occurrence.  As the narrative reveals, Billy is actually the One'Eyed Jack killer and sees violence as an absolutely legitimate way to deal with the wrong in the world.  Destruction, to Billy, is the only way to assure the cessation of evil.  As for Marty, he seems far more inspired by considering how this corruption or insanity evolves and emerges, often becoming so lost in its possibilities and misguiding that he clings to alcohol as a means of coping.  In the middle ground are the characters like Hans who seems to traipse perfectly between Billy and Marty's methodologies, thus creating a sort of aggressive passiveness (which I have decided is distinctly different from somebody being passive aggressive)  that can drive a guilty person to take their life out of fear and frustration, not to mention Zachariah who clearly cannot come to deals with his passivity in the face of his aggressive lovers violence, although his choice not to be aggressive when his lover was actively killing a man takes on an aggressive connotation, because he clearly has come to disapprove of those actions.  Thus the closing scene involving a self-imolationg Buddhist monk takes  on another level, in so much, as he is engaging actively in an act that is intended to be passive resistance against the war, even if completely self-destructive.  All of this, of course, results in some unusual religious and social commentaries, but I think it only proves the intense and introspective elements of this film without question.

Key Scene:  Waken, voice recorder, fire and considering of sexual-orientation terms...what more could one ask for in a film.

An action heavy film with quite a glorious soundtrack, Seven Psychopaths is a bluray purchases through and through.

If You're Gonna Lead People, You Gotta Have Somewhere To Go: Rumble Fish (1983)

I am starting to consider the very real possibility that Coppola's best work occurred, while he was adapting S.E. Hinton novels to the screen.  Of course The Outsider's is a bit moderate and youthful, a far cry from his works like Apocalypse now which are considerably hyper-violent.  However, Rumble Fish, his work, also an adaptation of a Hinton work of the same name, throws out some of this youthful safety in favor of a brutally honest, yet cinematically poetic film, filled with an exceptionally large amount of rising stars and individuals who would become big name actors, even a few finding work still today.  Not to mention an awesome cameo, of sorts, by Tom Waits, in what may well be his best performance.  It is clear in this film that Coppola is reaching far back into something profoundly sentimental, providing a film that is as experimental as it is a twisted romansbildung.  Imagine a film with all the youthful bliss of The Outsiders, plus the gang oriented narrative of West Side Story, minus the pesky singing and dancing and you might be able to construct a very cursory understanding of what is offered in Rumble Fish, but even then you would still have to add the art house flair of early Scorsese, a healthy dose of Italain Neo-realism and an undeniable splash of Fellini to even begin to understand the complexities of this film.  I often wondered, when, if ever, Sophia Coppola drew inspiration from her father's work and I can say with some certainty that it likely occurred with Rumble Fish, indicative of its near ethereal nature, as well as her presence in the film playing one of the younger  characters.  It is interesting to pair this simulacrum of a urban landscape occupied by disillusioned youth with any of the later 80's youth films in its refusal to deal with ennui and the awkwardness of growing up via hip New Wave music and witty cynicism.  The world of Rumble Fish is tragic from the on set and even when you think nothing can possibly get worse, the characters engaging in this colorless world manage to fall further into the abyss.

Rumble Fish focuses primarily on the experiences of Rusty James (Matt Dillon) a rebellious young man who fancies himself the leader of a local gang, despite a self-acknowledged lack of smarts and quick wit, Rusty uses his brawn a bit to eagerly to get his way.  Amongst this group include the quick affirming Smokey (Nicolas Cage), the bookish Steve (Vincent Spano), the heavy set bully B.J. (Chris Penn) and the anything but short Midget (Laurence Fishburne).  Along with this group who take up passive gang activities, Rusty also vies for the affections of a local girl, who goes to a private school outside the city named Patty (Diane Lane).  It is during one night of fighting with a rival gang of pill poppers that Rusty takes a shard of glass to the stomach, resulting in his being rescued by The Motorcycle Boy (Mickey Rourke) who is the older brother of Rusty and a sort of local legend, as he was able to leave the city, only to return much to everyone's surpass, notably the police force who have it out for the motorcycle riding utlracool man.  The emergence of his brother, causes Rusty to question his place, especially after the revelation that during his time in California, Motorcycle boy met their mother, a figure long lost from their youth, only to be replaced by their alcoholic and incapable Father (Dennis Hopper).  Much of the narrative evolves to focus on Rusty's contentions with staying in school, ultimately, quashed when he is suspended, as well as attempting to win back Patty after being unfaithful at a beach party.  However, nothing proves more central to the narrative than Rusty's desires to live like his brother, literally following in his shadow throughout the film an act that has considerably cataclysmic results and provide for a magnificently cinematic and tragically poignant closing moment in the film, suggesting a rather unfortunate cycle of future events not much different than those occurring throughout Rumble Fish.

A series of unconventional opening shots, at least in regards to Coppola, display a skyline of a nondescript city as clouds roll past at a unusually fast speed.  This evasive world sets the stage for a narrative of entrapment and desired escapism as it relates to Rumble Fish, one in which the city proves oppressive to all those within its limits.  Many characters seek escape through literal means, as is certainly the case with Patty who travels by bus to go to a private school, while others like Father use alcohol as a self-escape by nightly intoxication.  Yet, the literal escape only occurs for The Motorcycle Boy, who becomes a character within a revisioning of Plato's Allegory of the Cave in that he so deeply desires to explain to other what he has seen in California and how they too can witness those things, yet his language cannot occur in a way to explain it to the cities occupants, most importantly Rusty, who admits to his lack of vocabulary.   The Motorcycle Boy has seen another part of the world and returning to the city causes him to spiral into a noticeable depression, one that leads to a considerably desultory lifestyle, engaged with heroin addicts and aimless wandering through pet stores.  In a moment of brilliance on the part of Hinton/Coppola, Rusty compares Motorcycle Boy to The Pied Piper suggesting that people are willing to follow him wherever he leads them, yet Motorcycle Boy admits that he has no clue where he is going, although I would suggest it is more a lack of possessing the means to explain the world outside of the black and white barriers of the city, lending to his preoccupation with the fish the only thing of color within the entire film, which when considering the Allegory of the Cave element to this film, certainly do not lack a metaphorical element.  Ultimately, Motorcycle Boy realizes he failed to share this outside world with anyone and martyrs himself with the hope that Rusty can take up the torch and if the closing shot of the film is any suggestion, it has a possibility, although it will prove considerably exhaustive.  Also apparently there is some reference to Camus via The Motorcycle Boy, which I did not pick up on but certainly plan to explore later.

Key Scene:  While it is not the most cinematic moment of the film, the initial fight scene between Rusty and another gang leader sets the stage for the remainder of Rumble Fish and welcomes viewers to a world that is transcendent of any traditional logic or conceptualization.

This movie is glorious, at the moment only a DVD copy exists.  I hope a Bluray copy is in the works and plan to wait until it is released to purchase a copy.  Until then it is offered as a Watch Instantly option on Netflix.

I See, You Too, Are An Innocent Man: Down By Law (1986)

The films of Jim Jarmusch have an unwavering hipness that is often borrowed, but never successfully recreated.  In sorts, Jarmusch is the Tarantino of independent filmmaking.  His 1986 masterpiece Down By Law certainly has all the cool wry wit of his other films, along with a smooth soundtrack and some very impressive acting on the part of the enigmatic Tom Waits.  Down By Law is a film that is colorful, despite being filmed in black and white and complex, despite centering around a small cast of characters, and beautiful despite being set in the most desolate portions of New Orleans.  It also presents a diverse set of characters whose lives intersect inexplicably and tangentially, yet seem almost preordained or something far more meaningful than coincidence.  Down By Law is for lovers of cinema, and is a staple in the canon of independent filmmaking as it relates to the United States.

The plot is surprisingly coherent for a Jarmusch film, perhaps being accredited to it following only three characters, whose narratives intertwine in a New Orleans jail.  The first being the broken down radio DJ Zack (Tom Waits) whose recent drunken stupor lands him in jail, after unknowingly agreeing to transport a dead body.  The second is Jack (John Lurie), a pimp who is tricked by a rival conman into approaching an underage girl about prostitution and finally Roberto “Bob,” played masterfully by director Roberto Benigni, an Italian immigrant whose miscommunication during a poker game leads to his accidental murder of an opponent.  The three men appear indifferent to one another as the story unfolds, each seeing their imprisonment as unjust and resenting all things related to the prison, including one another.  However, after bonding over a riotous moment, inspired by Bob’s lack of English, the men begin to trust one another and Bob hatches an escape plan.  The group escapes from the prison with relative ease only to discover the treacherous nature of Louisiana swampland far more formidable than prison.  The group eventually finds shelter in a boathouse that is eerily similar to their prison cell, only to venture out in a faulty boat that quickly sinks.  Luckily for the trio, they stumble upon a road that leads them to a coffee shop.  Zack and Jack realize the perils of walking into a public place still donning prison garb and send the culturally oblivious Bob into the place as a sacrifice.  Bob, however, fails to return after many hours.   In a moment of confusion Zack and Jack approach the house to see Bob being treated to the hospitality of an Italian woman, leading them to quickly enter the house and join the fun.  The group is treated as though they are any other guest by Nicoletta (Nicoletta Braschi), given that she fails to realize their uniforms significance.  After a night of drinks and conversation the three split ways, Bob decides to stay with Nicoletta, while Zack and Jack leave at a crossroad, only offering words of sarcasm as they diverge.  The plot thus ending in simplicity, a sentimental film for Jarmusch that is as simple in its narrative as it is profound.

The brilliance of Down By Law is its study of imprisonment, particularly as it relates to its metaphoric sense.  Each of the trio is imprisoned by something and it takes the happenchance encounter and subsequent literal escape from prison to help them free themselves figuratively.  For Jack it is a matter of freeing himself from apathy, particularly as it relates to his belief that he could be better than a pimp, but has not been given a fresh start to change this action.  By breaking from prison and reemerging into civilization, Jack is able to recreate his image, free of a problematic and undesirable past.  For Zack his troubles stem from his own self-loathing and inability to ask others for help.  His standoffish ways are broken as he is forced to perform his DJ routine face-to-face with Jack, as well as save Bob who is almost captured do to his fear of swimming.  Ultimately, Zack finds freedom in his wit and recognition that his own happiness exists partially from accepting that those around him can be happy as well.  Finally, Bob is imprisoned by language, a barrier that seems impossible to transcend throughout the film.   It is not until he is able to accept his Italian ways in the face of death that he is freed, this acceptance of his difference is validated by meeting Nicoletta who shares his identity, thus freeing him from loneliness.  Each character ends the film in solitude, but in this instance, it is void of self-imprisonment.

Buy this film.  Jim Jarmusch has an excellent relationship with Criterion and it is reflected in the dvd supplements.  A copy is necessary, share it with your friends, or anyone you remotely care about.