Lawyers Don't Surf!: Point Break (1991)

The bad movie is a beloved area of movie going and cinephilia all its own.  Between movies with cheesy special effects and some of the worst acting conceivable, one has a wide array of options to view, if they are prepared to completely disavow any respect for cinematic tradition.  Now, these films are treated for their absurd nature with love, many receive far more care and distribution than monumental art house films whose demand simply does not match that of The Toxic Avenger or the bizarre film that is The Room.  These works usually traipse the line of new director establishing themselves and being created on a shoestring budget as passion projects by a group of friends.  Bad movies are bad, but notably they are not cinematic masterpieces.  I would have adhered to this ideology with such a strong voice only yesterday at this time, but then I watched Kathryn Bigelow's 1991 action/surf/buddycop/romatic drama that is Point Break and was required to completely reorganize my understanding of bad movies.  Point Break is everything that should not exist is a respectable piece of cinema blown about over a two hour window, emphasized by hokey camera shots and enough overly forced dialogue to make even these least sensible person to the art of acting cringe.  Pair this with what has to be one of the more curious studies of masculinity and male desire committed to film and I would argue that Bigelow is knowingly creating a terrible film as a means with which to call attention to the medium and the genre itself, appropriating a variety of different genres that deal with masculine identity as a means to critique the genre and show the latent homoeroticism at play in movie going.  Since this film, it would be hard to establish the identity of Kathryn Bigelow as a decidedly feminist filmmaker, one working within the space of masculine war areas to look at issues of identity.  While Zero Dark Thirty is quite a promising departure from her earlier fare, Point Break may well be her masterpiece, if only for its unapologetic attachment to all things bad in cinema as a means to crack into a larger commentary on what is truly terrible about the relationships of viewers and film.  It might have been purely accidental, but Point Break is a post-modern stroke of cinematic negation and deconstruction in the most veiled and backdoor means imaginable.

Point Break focuses on the relocation of burgeoning FBI agent and former football star Johnny Utah (Keanu Reeves) a poised, but notably green behind the years guy, who wants to quickly make a big name in the department to move into higher positions.  While Utah is far from pleased with his location matters are made slightly worse when he is assigned with the veteran cop and general wise ass Pappas (Gary Busey) who seems more concerned with playing into conspiracy theories within the department, particularly with their to the books boss Ben Harp (John C. McGinley).  Nonetheless, Utah and Pappas are assigned to work on a case of bank robberies, undertaken by the group known as The Ex-Presidents, a moniker attached for their wearing of presidents masks while enacting the robberies.  While the department has very little to go on regarding the identities of the members of the group, there is a strong indication that their whereabouts are somehow tied to a beach outside of Los Angeles.  As such, both Utah and Pappas are designated to go undercover and discover exactly who is involved in the ordeal, or at the very least to find information regarding the whereabouts of The Ex-Presidents.  Under the guise of being a lawyer interested in surf lessons, Utah finds an in through a local surfer girl named Tyler (Lori Petty) to whom he takes to desiring almost instantly.  It is by Tyler's extension that Utah meets Bodhi (Patrick Swayze) discovering in him a source to all the going-ons in the beach, as well as a friend.  Indeed, Utah seems almost as enamored with Bodhi as he is Tyler, finding his own drive to catch the perfect ride almost saintly.  While Utah continues to chase down leads on the possible members of The Ex-Presidents when a chase and gunning down of a series of neo-Nazi's proves a bust, a minor incident leads Utah to become certain that it is indeed Bodhi and his friends who have been undertaking the crimes all along, putting the still learning cop in a compromising position between friendship and the law.  One that goes sky high in its ambitions and crashes hard in its final outcome.  All with the variants of bro being thrown out along the way.

Sure it would be delightful to just go into the almost impossible incessant variations on the possible spellings of Reeves' and Swayze's respective pronunciations of "bruh," and I am sure this has become a drinking game by this point, but I do have an earnest curiosity directed towards the way in which language, look and performance all sort of coalesce within the space of Point Break to become a dynamic and deconstructed understanding of the male body on display in film and by extension how that male body shares in looking at other bodies both dietetically and non-diegetically.  If one were to read the synopsis for Point Break or to look at the poster, it seems like rather straightforwardly a buddy cop and/or law/justice type narrative, but the reason this film works on a distinctly different level is that it spends so much time--perhaps unnecessarily so--on considering the relationship between Utah and Bodhi, one that often goes unspoken and still possesses a high degree of sexual longing.  The initial encounter between Utah and Bodhi comes at Bodhi's confusion as to why Tyler is now clinging onto the newly present surfer, seeming as though he is jealous of her affections being relocated.  However, this sequence is immediately followed by a game of football where Utah is able to show off his skills athletically, all which culminates in his tackling of Bodhi into the shore of the beach.  While Bodhi's friends call foul, this aggressive touch by Utah seems to awaken a mutual desire between the two, as though the sport allowed them a figurative sexual encounter that goes unspoken throughout rest of the film, emphatically shared when Utah allows the fleeing Bodhi to continue climbing a fence and never stopping him with gunfire.  His hesitation occurs only after the two share an impossible locking of eyes from a great distance.  Other focusing on the male body in curious ways takes precedence over the accidental looking at women that comes after the encounter on the beach, particularly in the scene of the Nazi house bust, where women in the shower are only caught through passing glimpses or mirrored surveillance.  It would suggest that Utah now only cares about looking and watching Bodhi and by extension so should the viewers.  The closing moments of Bodhi's limp body falling into the ocean, juxtapose Utah's own birth-like sequence earlier in the film, one awakening and the other violently repressing.  It is a Freudian "wet" dream if you will, all played out under the guise of simple, bad movie mockery.  Brilliance here comes through a back avenue for those willing to play along with the joke.

Key Scene:  Any time Reeves gets to throw out some surfer talk is glorious, but the real performance of note comes from Swayze whose accent is so realized that he should have done a cameo on the now gone The Californians from SNL.

Buy this on bluray, it is a mess of a movie with a far deeper message.  Indeed, the only initial comparison I can even think to make is my current favorite film of 2013 Springbreakers.

Think Of 'Em Like Moving Two By Fours: Tucker and Dale Vs Evil (2010)

The revisionist horror film is almost a thing that is ad nauseam in post-digital filmmaking.  Indeed, it would appears as though every hip post-film school punk thinks themselves capable of creating a masterwork in horror that is in comparison to Texas Chainsaw Massacre or The Exorcist.  This is not to say that decent digital horror films do not exist, there are quite a few examples of next level horror films that have emerged in the past decade, but for the most part they are indicative of sloppy filmmaking that masks itself under excessive gore and formulaic plot.  Tucker and Dale vs Evil in all its absurdity does manage to reconsider some of the elements necessary to horror films and even cleverly engages with some of the classic horror cinema texts from which it pulls.  Of course, given that the entirety of the film is predicated upon one misunderstanding based on social stereotypes the jokes surrounding this run thin by the end and seem less than stellar.  That is not to say that Tucker and Dale vs Evil is not an enjoyable viewing experience, but purely to note that it loses its flare by the closing moments.  The highlight here, however, is Alan Tudyk, who as I noted along side Trey on my appearance on the podcast Drive By Nerding, when Tudyk shows up in anything I will seek it out and consume it, because even with his decidedly comedic choices, he turns in some of the best acting available.  Where Tucker and Dale vs Evil works as a film is in the moments that it clearly makes sure it is not taken seriously, layering on blood and nudity as though it is almost an afterthought, noting that as a genre film it is somehow only taken seriously when such extremes are depicted, by not taking these "necessary" moments as anything but fabrication viewers are allowed to dig a bit deeper and consider the implications of villains and heroes in the horror film canon proper, and like any good revisionist work of genre filmmaking, Tucker and Dale vs Evil leaves those who encounter it considering the very nature of the presumably entrenched tropes of hillbilly slasher movies.

Tucker and Dale vs Evil focuses on two coinciding stories, one focusing on a group of college kids taking a weekend trip to the woods, ranging from the likable and well-meaning Allison (Katrina Bowden) to the seemingly devious and decidedly maniacal Chad (Jesse Moss).  Along with a few other friends they are hoping to get drunk in the woods and engage in all the wild behaviors possible.  Meanwhile Dale (Tyler Labine) and Tucker (Alan Tudyk) also have high hopes of their own, as two self-associating rednecks they take pride in their acquisition of a vacation home, planning on spending the weekend engaging in renovations of the space.  At a local gas station the two groups cross paths, Dale taking a liking to Allison, but when approaching the group, Dale in his stalky demeanor and carrying of a scythe like pole only manages to scare the group, however, their paths reconvene when later that night while fishing, Tucker and Dale spot the group going skinny dipping, even catching Allison as she begins to undress on a high rock.  Scared, Dale shouts causing Allison to fall in panic and become knocked unconscious.  In guilt, Dale takes Allison back to their cabin and begins bringing her back to health, much to the frustrations of Tucker, but more so to the panic of Allison's friends, particularly Chad who mounts a wild plan to get his girlfriend back.  This plan falls completely to the wayside, however, when each attack leads to Dale or Tucker accidentally killing one of the member from Chad's group, either by dodging their attack and leading to their being impaled or by accidentally allowing them to fall into a wood chipper.  Ultimately, Chad becomes wildly vindictive in his attempts to seek revenge upon Tucker and Dale, at one point capturing Tucker and chopping off one of his fingers.  As a past story of murders in the area unfolds, it becomes clear that Chad is perhaps not as well-meaning as he appears, just as Tucker and Dale are not quite as brutal, and in the end Chad is destroyed and Dale is able to win over Allison.  Tucker who now possesses a new finger, seems quite content to be able to enjoy a fresh PBR from his hospital bed.

Tucker and Dale vs Evil works in a lot of regards.  The gore is so synthetic and absurd as to be nearly endearing in its absurdity and much of the dialogue is so heavy handed that one might think writer/director Eli Craig lifted every bit of it from eighties horror films.  These things are great and some of the highlights of the film, but what makes this film clever and a decidedly post-genre comedy, is the way in which it deals with the homoeroticism latent to the psychotic hillbilly horror film, particularly the classic in this regards Deliverance.  Wherein violently sexual encounters are used in a very demeaning and metaphorically visceral way in the cult classic starring Burt Reynolds, the homoeroticism of Tucker and Dale vs Evil becomes humorous in how much Craig makes the viewers acknowledge its potential, made all the more intriguing by the sort of connections made to rural folk life in hilly southern country that is entirely predicated upon Deliverance and the infamous "squeal like a piggy" scene.  Tucker and Dale obviously share a longing with one another, a desire to be together that is not necessarily sexual, but still borders on being wildly homoerotic.  Whether it be their initial encounter with the ill-fated police chief wherein Dale finds himself in a compromising position with Tucker, or their countless mishaps that land one on top of the other, it is clear that their embraces linger on far longer than one would expect for purportedly heterosexual men.  Craig's equally lengthy shots of the scenes ask viewers to first laugh at the absurdity, but then consider why exactly it is funny, when the situational bit wears thing.  In a society that is far more open to diverse sexual identities this is executed beautifully and becomes a great study on individuals burgeoning into their comfort sexually.  For Dale it is a movement towards heterosexuality, but it is rather clear that in the relationship between himself and Tucker that it is Tucker who truly possesses the homoerotic desire, almost affirmed by his acquiring a woman's finger in his hand transplant, one that Dale says fits, a clear suggest that his desire for men is fine, although not best directed at Dale.  This is all minimally discussed in the film, but, nonetheless, exists and makes for a wonderfully subversive film, masquerading as an absurdist horror comedy.

Key Scene:  Any of the moments involving Tudyk waxing poetic about beer are quite wonderful.

Neflix. Watch. Instantly.  In contrast to most of the garbage available, this is well worth your consideration.

Exterminate All Rational Thought: Naked Lunch (1991)

I am both regretting, as well as beginning to appreciate the #100filmsforJune marathon I have decided to undertake along with a ton of other members on Letterboxd.  I am regretful because it is proving to be an incredibly daunting and time-consuming process, especially considering that I am trying to avoid repeat viewings per the stipulations of the marathon.  However, it has thus far afforded me an opportunity to catch up with a few blind spots within my film literacy a problem that I hope will be noticeably altered by the end of the month.  One such blind spot for me, as mentioned with my previous post concerning Sunshine, is that of underrated or overlooked science fiction films, which made a viewing such as Naked Lunch excellent, primarily because it falls within the confines of lesser known science fiction, while also affording me the very welcomed opportunity to fill in a gap on my desired viewing list with the psychosexual madness of yet another Cronenberg film.  While I would not say that Cronenberg hits every work out of the park, I do find most of his choices engaging and, at times, deeply profound.  Works like Videodrome and Existenz have become staples of consumerist fears and the detachment of the body in regards to an omnipresent, artificial entity that can fulfill even the most base of human needs and desires.  As should be little surprise, Cronenberg takes lens in Naked Lunch and spins a web of insanity relating to some absurd hybrid of drug culture and repressed heterosexuality.  What comes out of his cauldron of visions is a film that is parts Terry Gilliam and Ken Russell, engaging the very fabric of human life and its fractured psyche during a state of dependence that parallels nicely with the narrative of Linklater's A Scanner Darkly which provides for yet another layer of fitting parallels, in that both manage to perfectly adapt rather dense and challenging texts from equally prolific authors into a world all their own, using similar metaphors and messages to paint their facsimile of society in such a way that it is entirely implausible to the point of viewers finding safe detachment, while also being incredibly prescient and a cause for very real feels of discontent and dismay.

Naked Lunch is set inconceivably in fifties era New York and follows the life of exterminator Bill Lee (Peter Weller), a rather interesting job in the context of this world considering that both bugs, as well as particular pesticides prove to be highly addictive drugs, so much so that his girlfriend Joan (Judy Davis) is a strung out addict to bug powder herself, often stealing large quantities from Bill's work supply to get her fix, which, in turn, leads to his being fired from his job. Later that evening in an attempt to get people out of his house, Bill and Joan do a William Tell routine that involves him shooting a glass off of Joan's head, only for it to go awry and result in her being shot.  During an arrest related to his assumed murder Bill begins his own hallucinations as a result of repeated work around bug powder, where in he sees a large insect who informs him that he is to be a secret agent in a alternate world known as Inter Zone where he will serve as a writer for the various alien-like bugs that inhabit the world.  During his work for a particular bug, one named Clark Nova, after the typewriter which it manifests itself though, Bill is told that he is to find one Dr. Benway (Roy Scheider), an endeavor that leads him to meeting doppleganger of his deceased wife.  As this navigation towards Dr. Benway continues, Bill comes to realize that the entirity of Inter Zone, as well as its extended alternate universe Annexia are riddle with drug addicted individuals, many of which actively engage in gay relationships, and that a larger narcotics trade orbits around the trafficking of a particular bug based drug known as "black meat."  Of course, getting to the center of the issues is far from simple, particularly since Bill himself is navigating various drug induced trips, yet after a constant shifting of mind states, he eventually comes to realize that it is indeed Dr. Benway who is the veritable kingpin of the narcotics pushing and in an attempt to flee to Annexia, he, as well as the doppleganger of Joan, is stopped by border police, also dopplegangers of previous characters themselves who demand that Bill prove he is a writer.   After pulling a pen out of his pocket as evidence, Bill, for no obvious reason, recreates the William Tell accident from earlier, thus bring the acid trip of a film full circle and Bill no closer to a sort of meaning and happiness he so clearly seeks throughout.

Much like other Cronenberg films, the narrative and its visual stylings seem to have a particular fascination with flesh, penetration and the seemingly inextricable connection between the mind and body as it relates to identity and survival.  This cinematic theme within Cronenberg's films furthermore always seems to have a psychosexual layer added as well, one of invasion and intrusion that is made all the more grotesque by the perfectly disgusting creatures that Cronenberg's crew makes for his films.  While I know I am not going to do any justice to this thematically, I feel it necessary to talk about the particularly unusual way in which the psychosexual elements relate to homosexuality between males.  Much like Barton Fink, the film has a drifting writer character to seems to be struggling with something larger than himself that is forcefully and unsuccessfully being repressed only to blow apart in troubling and destructive ways.  I would argue that both the character of Barton, as well as Bill are dealing with their respective oppressed sexualities, ones that are necessariliy oppressed for fear of violence and desertion from society.  In Cronenberg's film, this repression means that Bill must shack up with a drug addicted woman who he "accidentally" kills not out of malice, but out of a desperate hope to escape to something desirable, an escape he and the other openly gay characters of the film seem to pursue via wild hallucinogenics.  The escape only proves mildly beneficial for Bill, in that he is arguably surrounded by other gay males, although the price is pretty severe because the various drugs essentially allow for his feuding id and superego to go unchecked resulting in some bizarre drug induced visions. Of course the image that will be easy to pick up to the non-Freudian thinking viewer will undoubtedly be that of the various writers and other figures suckling at the flaccid stem of the white bug hoping to receive the liquid that emerges upon the completion of "good writing," which, of course, extends to include a good sexual performance as well.  Bill while madly struggling to repress his feelings cannot help but desire this secretion, much as he cannot change his desire for other men.  Of course, there is also the bug whose back, and apparent form of communication very much resemble the anus, suggesting a point of sexual pleasure, as well as verbal interaction whose implications both within the context of sexuality and Freudian psychology are many and multifaceted.

Key Scene:  The bug farm scene and the revelation of Dr. Benway's disguise are a fitting way to bring this narrative to a near close and defy all the logic in the film, which was minimal to begin with.

This is an excellent film and Criterion has recently put out a bluray, I would strongly encourage obtaining a copy when finances allow you to do so.

No Stranger Ever Good Newsed Me: Red River (1948)

It really little surprise that Howard Hawks would find himself doing double time in my month of westerns, considering that both the previously viewed Rio Bravo, as well as the wonderfully classicist Red River stand as the giants within the genre.  As one of the employees at my local record stores suggest, Hawks had a certain ability to pick a genre and hit whatever he made within its confines out of the park, think not only of the westerns in question now, but his screwball comedies, most notably His Girl Friday and Bringing Up Baby, not to mention exceptional films in other genres as well.  As equally critically acclaimed as Rio Bravo, if not slightly more underrated, Red River is a chiaroscuro picturesque focus on the cattle herding element of western expansion, a narrative which in any other director but Hawks' hands would prove unbearably slow paced and lacking in the action necessary for the western.  However, as established with the previous discussion of Rio Bravo, Hawks is not a director whose primary aims are those of action, he is a narrative oriented filmmaker, yet, given his cast and the emotional investment of each line of dialogue the film, nonetheless, becomes very vibrant and fast-paced, making the even more intense scenes of shootouts and stampedes seem otherworldly in their excited pacing.  Also this is an unusual western from my frame of reference because it involves the presence of something unexpected, John Wayne playing the antagonist, a surprise doubled by the narratives beginning which would suggest him to be the good guy.  Of course, John Wayne is not the out and out bad guy, although he does engage in some dastardly actions throughout the film, he is simply a figurative obstacle for the coming of age of Montgomery Clift's character and sets in as an intriguing consideration of what exactly comes of those whose unbridled drive for success inevitably result in their tragic downfall.  Red River is a film whose plot is so straight-foward as to almost seem arbitrary, but within the mask of simplicity, Hawks provides viewers with a consideration of how self-identity is formed on an epic scale.

Red River begins with Thomas Dunson (John Wayne) informing his pioneering group that he is seeking his own course of action detached from their trek, much to the dismay of the pioneering leader, as well as his lover whom he casts away concerning himself for her safety.  This highly melodramatic scene is incredibly brief and the narrative then transfers to Thomas and his ranch partner Nadine Groot (Walter Brennan) searching about the land with the intent of finding an appropriate place to create a cattle ranch only to run into a rather aggresive young man who attempts to hold Thomas up with no success.  The young man Matt Garth (Montgomery Clift) proves to be wide-eyed and lost a fact that leads Thomas to take him under his wing and teach him the ways of cattle driving, with the hopes of finding an assistant and future owner for his establishment.  The narrative then progresses again a couple of years to find Thomas having trouble maintaining a profit with his cattle leading to a belief that he will have to take the herd over a long distance to sell them and make a nice profit.  This trek while dangerous receives the support of Matt  and Nadine and eventually even gets the help of a whole crew most notably Cherry Valance (John Ireland) a man almost of equal age to Matt and the two create a mutual admiration.  Thomas before the trip makes it rather clear that the trip will be intense and warns against anyone coming who might want to quit.  Once on the trip this statement proves quite valid as weather, stampedes and the psychological state of the crew prove too much to bare, leading Thomas, heavily relying on a bottle of whisky, to come down hard on any perpetrator, whether it be for minor theft or desertion.  Eventually, Thomas and his actions prove too much for Matt and he stands up to the aging man taking it upon himself to drive the cattle to a new location.  This endeavor is successful for Matt, after a minor run in with a group of attacking natives, yet Thomas, folows close on his trail, considering that a few scenes earlier he vowed to kill Matt upon finding him again.  Despite the outright success of the transactions, Matt is fully aware that he must face Thomas in the street, or else fear his constant presence for the remainder of his life.  When the two meet in the streets it turns from incredibly violent to familiar jousting to humor in a matter of moments.  Thomas, realizing that Matt has grown to be successful retracts his death threats and instead offers to share their future cattle brand and identity.

While I could pull from trope upon trop with this film, I want to talk about something that has been discussed on this blog in detail before that, of course, being the idea of the homosocial bond.  This is the intensely intimate relationship shared between men in a believe that their identities as brothers through situation is highly valued.  This is often depicted in war and sports films and certainly has a heavy presence in westerns as well.  The interesting thing with its manifestation within the context of Red River is that it quickly crosses from the purely homosocial to the distinctively homosexual.  I know it is a trick to read into films with such an anachronistic framework, but as the late Alexander Doty would argue, when it comes to repressed narratives such appropriation is necessary and when it is offered it should not be ignored.  Red River very much has a set of homosexually fueled relationships whether it be the tense relationship between Thomas and Matt which is both paternal and one of longing, they fail to kill one another because they are "too soft," yet it is also highly likely that their intense feelings of passion block them from doing so.  Yet the relationship that is really worth noting is the one between Cherry and Matt which is highly lustful from its onset, during their initial encounter the two size one another up, and each shares in a gaze of the other that is decidedly drawn out, an act that is quickly followed by the two exchanging guns and showing off their skills as marksmen...by this point the tension is palpable, although never fully enacted upon.  If this is not enough to justify the reading one can consider the scenes around the campfire when women are discussed by either man, the other often looks at them in a disgusted manner, hoping it to be a joke as to no betray their shared longing, in fact, in a bit of clever dialogue, Hawks often has these discussions cut off, not as a means to suggest the characters silence, but, instead; to say that talks that betray the homosocial, and, in this case, homosexual longing are not welcome.  Tragedy strikes in the films closing, however, when Cherry dies at the hands of Thomas, allowing for a female character to fully invade the narrative and reject both forms of bonding in the name of a more heteronormative framework.

Key Scene:  The post stampede scene will prove to be one of the most haunting images of the entire month and will stand magnificently next to those from Jarmusch's Dead Man.

This is a film that is leaps above its contemporaries and stands high in the genre as a whole.  Unfortunately, there is no bluray available at the moment so I would suggest renting it until one becomes available.

They Came In Here And Played God Damn Songs For Kids: Miami Connection (1987)

Stupid Cocaine!, was only one of the many phrases uttered in what may well be one of the greatest rediscoveries in the history of film.  Sure Miami Connection, is not on the level of somebody unearthing a great haul of Japanese Silent Films, nor is it really even something of great social relevance, however, what Miami Connection is indeed, is a reminder that sometimes a really awful movie can have enough heart, earnest misdirection and absurdity to emerge like a phoenix into the loving arms of cinephiles with even the most refined of tastes.  I often wax poetic on this blog about films reminding me that there are some serious issues occurring in our society as they relate to oppression, inequality and ignorance and while this is certainly not any less true on the blog today than it was before viewing this b-movie magic, I can say with a heavy degree of certainty that Miami Connection provided me with a welcomed escape from concern into a world of b-movie bliss.  One review of this rediscovered, now cult-classic suggested that it stands alone as a singular proof of the existence of God, and while I am certainly still an atheist at heart, I kind of got where the reviewer was going, because the perfect combination of absurdity and earnestness appears otherworldly almost transcendent of explanation.  A uneven stew of jump cuts, accidental breaking of basic filmmaking rules, the most incomprehensible storyline ever produced, and some of the most insanely misguided acting ever provides viewers with a spectacle for the ages.  Often when I am engaged with a film and can sense my own being pulled towards the screen it is for a deeply perplexing or philosophically engaging film, when it comes to Miami Connection it is due entirely to my own inability to comprehend the madness unfolding before my eyes.  Often with classic of a cult status they begin decent and split at the seams within moments, however, Miami Connection never has itself together, yet the film has so much heart and passion poured into it by the director, actors and all others involved that it almost formulates a perfect film in effort alone.  In all its synth rock and tae-kwon-do gloriousness, Miami Connection is a film for the ages and begs to be brought back to live and viewed by anyone willing to reconsider their understanding of cinema, a veritable gift from the movie gods if you will.

Miami Connection centers on the challenges faced by a Orlando based synth-rock band named Dragon Sound, who also happen to engage in tae-kwon-do during their free time.  The group consists of an ethnically varied group of men, including their leader and tae-kwon-do grandmaster Mark (Y.K. Kim), the bass-slapping lanky new wave kid John (Vincent Hirsch), the jerry curled Jim (Maurice Smith) whose quest to reconnect with his father proves a major plot point, as well as the unusually hairy John Oatesesque Tom (Angelo Janotti), as well as the soft-spoken, yet anti-drug use spouting Jack (Joseph Diamand).  The group struggles to be taken seriously as a musical act, considering that club promoters and musicians assume them to be a child's act with their kung-fu heavy performances.  Yet, while they do indeed get into a series of street fights over this issue of what could be described as band territory, it is, ultimately, a run in with a set of cocaine dealing ninjas that seems to push the narrative along, and yes you read that absolutely correct, the eventual villain within Miami Connection proves to be a ninja who deals in drugs in Florida, although that may not be as absurd as it sounds, after all it is Florida.  John, in all his Michael Phelps look-alike glory is also forced to contend with one of the ninja cohorts, who has not taken the dating of of his sister by John lightly leading to yet another set of fights, one in which the bearded brother is killed, although Jim reminds his girlfriend that it had to be done, and she certainly seems quite indifferent to it all happening.  Although the fights are important and the band's success is key to the plot...in theory, it all boils down to Jim finding his father and the last act of the movie certainly causes one to consider its possibility of occurring, ultimately, ending with a message of world piece and unity through nothing other than the martial art of tae-kwon-do, and of course, by ridding the streets of that "stupid cocaine."

I almost laugh at myself for trying to consider the critical theory as it relates to such an absurd piece of cinema, that is essentially about using the tenants of a martial art to create unity, however, there is seriously something to be said about how homoerotic the film Miami Connection proves to be, in fact, if it were not for the presence of John's girlfriend it would be really easy to describe the members of Dragon Sound as a group of gay orphans living in Orlando while practicing tae-kwon-do and music.  I mean nobody ever appears to wear a shirt and when they do it is lacking as much material as humanly possible, take for example their band shirts, which I would go out of my way to own, were it not for a considerable lack of sleeves.  While it may seem in jest to consider the homoerotic tendencies in this film, one must remember that it is assumed to be a group of young male orphans under the tutelage of an older sagely tae-kwon-do master, even if it is completely paternal, one cannot help but to consider the latent sexuality present in such a relationship, even if purely unconscious.  Again, I cannot ignore the severe lack of shirts being worn within this film, by both the members of Dragon Sound, as well as the villains they face who are disgusting and evidence of everything gross I experienced a few years back in Daytona Beach, and what my friend describes as equally disgusting in Panama City.  It is a particular strain of hypermasculinity in which the half-naked violent body seems to be praised, again tying to some obviously latent homoerotic desires, especially considering that the bad guys seem intent on using passive homophobic slurs as a means to criticize Dragon Sound.  Hell there is also something to be said about an Asian-American ninja dressed in white and his lackeys all dressed in black riding around on motorcycles, although it is much easier just to use the 80's as an excuse for that.  Ultimately though, Dragon Sound does some rather nice things in terms of promoting racial unity in America, and it is solely the result of group tae-kwon-do.

Key Scene:  The scene in which Jim professes his desire to take a shower before everyone else evolves into some god damn poetic realist art in a matter of minutes.

Buy this movie and buy extra copies to send to your friends with no explanation whatsoever.  It needs to be as much a force cult classic as it is an accidental discovery.  Trust me, there is a time in your film viewing life before Miami Connection and one after, the latter being much more enriched.  The folks at Drafthouse Films saved this work from obscurity so buy a copy from them or Amazon immediately as a  much deserved thanks.