Come On, Leroy, Show Me Something: The Last Dragon (1985)

One of my unofficial life goals is to find the quintessential 80's movie, which does suggest something like The Breakfast Club or Top Gun, wherein it is a cool and well-received film that has managed to attain a timeless appeal.  This is not what I think of when I think of the ideal movie to reflect 80's cinema, I want something, instead, that is so absurdly indicative of the era and all of its will excess as to live in a world entirely all its own.  As it stands two films that reflect this quite well in my mind are Earth Girls Are Easy and Miami Connection, both being completely insane and relatively lesser known for the time.  Nonetheless, between fashions that became dated within the year of the film and soundtracks so influenced by musical shifts from the 80's as to have a place on MTV Classic, more so that their own films.  This quest is completely arbitrary so when I do discover new additions to the choices, I usually just dump them into a Letterboxd list for future reference, making discoveries quite rewarding.  When I began pulling films together for my kung-fu marathon I certainly would never have guessed that any of the films from the marathon would possibly make it into the consideration for quintessential eighties film, but I had also never heard about The Last Dragon prior to it being suggested as an addition to the month of film viewing.  What exists with The Last Dragon is a endearing homage to all things Bruce Lee, that takes a note out of music/dance based films from the time like House Party and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, while also embracing the post-punk anarchism that has made works like Repo Man and Jubilee possess a long established identity as counter cinema.  Everything about The Last Dragon could have only existed in 1985 and it is a gift of magnificent proportions, proving to be nothing short of a time capsule for what was considered to be cool to urban communities, while creating a surprisingly poignant narrative about race and capitalist privilege.  Furthermore, if one were to consider The Wu-Tang Clan's embracing of kung fu as a pinnacle of its cultural influence, The Last Dragon is certainly one of the more absurd results of its then rising pertinence.

The Last Dragon focuses on the character of Leroy Green (Taimak) whose sole vision in life is to become a martial arts master, under the enigmatic tutelage of an ancient sage.  What makes this quest rather unusual, however, is that Leroy is undertaking his quest, not in an ancient Chinese temple, but in the streets of New York City, where urban gangs run things and all youth seem transfixed on making their presence known on a local music revue show run by the charming Laura Charles (Vanity).  Leroy would seem quite content to continue on his existence detached from these issues, where it not for a sudden concern by local gang leader Sho'nuff The Shogun of Harlem (Julius Carry) finding it necessary to challenge Leroy for kung fu master supremacy.  Furthermore, when a rich video game and television producer named Eddie Arkadian (Christopher Murney) feels it necessary to place his new girlfriend in the music business, he attempts to kidnap Laura and force her into agreeing to have say in the shows music.  Leroy steps in to intervene in the attack, thus gaining the affections of Laura, as well as the ill-will of Eddie.  All the while, Sho'nuff continues to pester Leroy, whose poise frustrates the enraged fighter, so much so that he attacks Leroy's family business as a means to draw him out of his zen detachment.  Meanwhile, Leroy who is still on his quest to find out who the master truly is becomes more involved in the villainy of Eddie who eventually does kidnap Laura, demanding that Leroy should show up to the studio to win her back, although he fails to mention that the entire thing will be taped and serve as a large scale martial arts battle, that Eddie hopes will bring tons of new viewership to  his production.  This battle involves all the most brutish and maniacal of gang lords, who Leroy takes down one by one, yet when the entirety of the gang world attacks, Leroy is aided by his dojo members whose skills make quick work of the untrained fighters of the gangs.  Eddie then lures Leroy underground where he fights Sho'nuff one on one, realizing that Sho'nuff possesses unusual skills and powers.  Yet, thinking back upon the words of his sage, Leroy realizes he too is a master, thus turning into a electrified new fighter that overcomes Sho'nuff and even stops a bullet with his mouth when Eddie attacks, thus saving Laura and certifying his place as the true master of martial arts in urban New York.

As a film set in the mid 1980's urban landscape, a commentary is of little to no surprise.  Yet, The Last Dragon does not seem entirely dismissive of the possibilities of integration, wherein, other films of the era would have made the white character forever a thing to mock, especially in works like House Party where whiteness is purposefully made a point of otherness as a revolt against narrative tradition.  Indeed, excluding the hyper-absurd characters of Eddie and his girlfriend everyone else seems quite at ease with a racially unified territory.  As such, it then becomes a film that is expressly concerned with what this landscape can do to provide itself with an ideal landscape void of violence.  The obvious answer arises through the figure of Leroy whose passivity through most of the film is not an act of weakness or fear, but one that understands that violence in a society such as mid-80's urban New York is counterproductive and only feeds into existing states of oppression and damage.  He is also not a sexually aggressive figure and is arguably asexual throughout most of the film, despite being clearly admired by Laura.  The film decidedly sets up Leroy in a narrative that also depicts absurd versions of black masculinity, as well as other forms of masculinity in order to suggest that it is not the racial part of the performance that should be criticized, but instead the aggressive nature of masculinity that is problematic.  If one considers Leroy then to be a new version of the masculine, it makes his bout between the ring of male gang bosses take on a new layer, especially since he seems to do so with an ease and passivity that is neither violent or an assertion of male aggression, a notion furthered by the presence of his dojo students, who have also learned their own new non-opressive masculinity.  Of course, Leroy must still over come Eddie and his white male privilege, evidenced through his quick use of a gun, but as the narrative suggests, it is often not the violent act that ends another, but a literal use of the mouth (i.e. words) to change a situation.  Given the chance to destroy Eddie, Leroy instead restrains him until authorities arrive, placing hope in an evolving system, as opposed to self-imposed justice and the rule of the streets.  Indeed, it is no small accident that the film ends with the characters dancing while wearing all-white, shedding the punk and thug clothes of earlier scenes in favor of a societal change and metaphorical birth of unity.

Key Scene:  While out of principle I want to choose the moment when a young (still old looking) William H. Macy shows up, but it is definitely the scene at the television studio when Leroy fights the ring of gang bosses while Eddie's face is projected on large screens.  It is a metaphor on power and influence delivered brilliantly.

This is available on Hulu and well worth engaging with for its humor and absurdity.

Recorded At A Subsonic Level Is A Mantra, Lose...Lose...Lose: The Cooler (2003)

2003's The Cooler had all the makings to be an incredibly popular film, whether it be the quotable dialogue, the lavish scenery of Las Vegas or the excellent acting of both William H. Macy and Alec Baldwin.  Yet, when it comes down to it the film simply does not deliver what one would expect to be an extraordinary film.  The Cooler is great in its own right, but fore a multitude of reasons everything appears contrived and forced, making its watchability decrease considerably, not to mention the original cut of the film was reedited due to demands by the MPAA, which felt the films depictions of sexuality to be far too graphic.  Ultimately, The Cooler becomes a run of the mill Las Vegas story that the viewer will recognize through the other gambling movies of days gone by and the scenery that is so familiar to filmic and cultural history that even though it is cleverly executed and well spaced still seems like nothing more than b-roll footage from a travel channel expose on casinos.  Perhaps, the best word to describe a film like The Cooler is, despite masking itself in what should be a stellar film, average.

The film centers on Bernie Lootz (William H. Macy) a down-and-out cooler for the Shangri-La casino.  Bernie, who is apparently the unluckiest man alive, serves as their financial control by passing his luck on to players winning big at the casino partially as a means to make money, as well as a way to pay back past debts to the casino's owner Shelly Kaplow (Alec Baldwin) who broke Bernie's knee in a fit of rage only to offer him a job as a means to assure a financial return.  Bernie, finally free of his debts, explains to Shelly that he is leaving the city for something new and no longer desires to work as the casinos cooler.  This news upsets Shelly, as it comes simultaneously, the introduction of a group of men demanding that Shelly change his casino tactics to reflect modern times, as opposed to his mafialike tactics.  As a result, Shelly hires one of the casinos drink girls Natalie (Maria Bello) to feign interest in Bernie in order to give him a reason to stay in the city.  Initially, Bernie is confused by the advances and assumes he is being tricked, however, when Natalie continues to pursue him, he invites her into his world.  Natalie, easily wins Bernie over with her sultry ways and unyielding advances, but much to Natalie's surprise Bernie's good nature and honesty begin to take hold of her.  The two fall madly in love and all appears fine, until it becomes apparent that Bernie's recent luck with Natalie is affecting his job as a cooler.  Enraged, Shelly takes it upon himself to break the couple apart, however, no amount of physical punishment or ill-will can separate the couple and after some confrontation they come close to leaving.  Unfortunately, due to some other bad decisions and an attempt to protect his punk son, Bernie accrues a larger debt making it impossible to leave without Shelly following.  In one last hurrah, Bernie tries his hand at craps, betting eighty thousand dollars on a single game.  His luck having changed allows him to win and he is able to leave the casino debt free and in possession of a substantial amount of cash.  Shelly is left to face his fading empire with rather fatal results.

The Cooler, while not an incredibly meaningful movie, does have one thing going for it.  The film is an excellent example of game theory as it concerns film criticism.  I will attempt to elaborate on game theory here a bit, but Fredrik on Film provided a far more substantial bit a few months back, concerning the theory.  In essence, game theory posits that life as it exists is a series of games in which rational people engage one another in outcomes in which they will either win or lose with an assumption that the net amount will result in equilibrium.   This excludes, however, those who are adapted to play certain "games" better or have disadvantages that will assure their constant loss at a game.  These two sides of the coin are represented in this film through Shelly and Bernie respectively.  Shelly is a hardheaded businessman who has a set of methods that appear to work for him in the long run, whether it be his brutal means of dealing with cheaters or his clinging to archaic means of casino running with the promise that the customers will be loyal.  He knows how to win the games he engages in, yet as the film proves, he is due for a loss and the equillibrium hits Shelly heavily given that the odds had for a considerable time been in his favor.  The same works for Bernie although his case is the opposite, it appears as though nothing that Bernie engages in is fruitful, yet with time and the help of other rational game players, such as Natalie, Bernie is able to accrue a few wins and help out his equilibrium.  One could look at game theory as a rationalized version of karma, except that good or bad deeds have nothing to do with out come, but that a person is destined to an average number of wins and losses over their lifespan, regardless of their ethical engagement in said life.  The Cooler, as well as many film noir masterpieces, provide the most fruitful examples of the game theory as it relates to film.

The Cooler is an enjoyable film, it will not blow you away with excellence, yet it is not a burden to watch.  This is a straight-out rental movie and one of many concerning the brutal, Darwin fueled world of Las Vegas.

We're Out Of Peanut Butter Super Chunk: Benny and Joon (1993)

I defy you to find a sweeter movie than this one.  Benny and Joon is a cult classic of sorts, its rather absurdist story and quotable dialogue make for a great movie that is neither over the top, nor lacking in frill.  It is a simplistic film about romance, family, and making ends meet in a world that constantly challenges normalcy.  Benny and Joon offers both a well paced narrative and subtly shot film that is as easy to watch as it is to enjoy.  Employing popular music and classical cinema images, the film is a revisiting of slapstick of years gone by, as well as a complete rethinking of the romantic comedy tradition.  It is a film that is both normal and unusual simultaneously, a rare thing in cinema, particularly after the 1960's.

Benny and Joon is rather unusual in its character choices.  The title characters Benny (Aidan Quinn) and Joon (Mary Stuart Masterson) are siblings living in a suburban northeast town.  Benny is a easy going mechanic whose only devotion is taking care of his mentally challenged sister Juniper "Joon."  Sadly, Joon is proving to be more and more burdensome causing Benny to question her ability to remain in a normal social setting, as well as questioning his own sanity in taking care of Joon.  Just as things appear to be impossible, one of Benny's friends pawns his cousin Sam (Johnny Depp) onto Benny.  Fortunately for Benny, Sam is just as eccentric as Joon and proves to be her ideal companion.  After a confrontation between Benny and Sam over Sam's intimacy with Joon the two separate, resulting in Joon's hospitalization.  Benny and Sam through a joint effort rescue Joon from the hospital and in the closing scenes Sam and Joon are shown making grilled cheese together on a ironing board.  I should note that this is a rather cursory overview of the film, but is in order to segway into my critical analysis of the film...being its textbook creation of a cult classic.

Benny and Joon is an exemplary film in relation to making a quotable and image driven cult film.  Every element of the film is undeniably personal and has the heir of being part of an inside joke that the viewer has generously been invited to witness.  This comes most obviously in the rhetoric between Benny and Joon, between Peanut Butter Super Chunk, betting drop chord in poker games and ping-pong it is very much a film about a familial relationship.  Viewers may not partake in these specific rituals, but they certainly have their own eccentric habits with family that helps to relate.  Secondly, the setting of the film helps to add to the cult-like nature of the film.  Benny and Joon's house is obviously a residence beyond their means, given that they are both orphans.  Regardless, their house is full of unusual artifacts more appropriate for a small town history museum and Joon's paintings, which are quite good and very modern.  It is obviously a house of the director's personal favorites, as opposed to a believable place of residence for two struggling siblings.  Finally, it is a cult film because William H. Macy has a role in the film, as arbitrary as it may seem he seems to show up in every damn cult movie I know and love and seeing him in this only added to its already unusual flare...mustache and all.

Benny and Joon is a perfect date movie.  It is sweetly romantic and quotable.  I would recommend  viewing a copy with someone dear to you, because it will only increase its enjoyability.