Only now does it occur to me... GETTING STRAIGHT (1970)

Only now does it occur to me... to say a few words in praise of Harrison Ford's "schmacting"...but mostly to extol the bountiful virtues of not giving a shit.

In 1970, Harrison Ford's credited screen performances included episodes of THE VIRGINIAN, IRONSIDE, MY FRIEND TONY, THE F.B.I., and LOVE, AMERICAN STYLE; and a pair of Westerns nobody saw, one of which was ghost-directed by Roger Corman. Suffice it to say that he wasn't quite yet setting the world on fire. One could theorize that his relative lack of commercial success thus far was rooted in a kind of desperation to give the best, most noticeable performance imaginable, even if the role didn't call for it. In GETTING STRAIGHT––a counterculture campus film by the incomparably creative Richard Rush (THE STUNT MAN, PSYCH-OUT, FREEBIE AND THE BEAN)––Ford plays an art student, and in his brief screen-time he runs the gamut of widened eyes and indicating eyebrows and slack jaw and furrowed brows... it's an entire encyclopedia of trying too hard––known to many as "schmacting."



(It must be noted that while there are moments of levity throughout, GETTING STRAIGHT is not a screwball comedy, and in fact, its major setpiece is a police crackdown on unarmed campus protesters––furthermore, it was released to theaters a mere ten days after May 4th shootings at Kent State University.)

In Ford's three brief scenes––two of which, where his main character motivation is to invite Elliot Gould and Candice Bergen to a party in his apartment––he overreacts to every happening and tries to imbue each line with an accompanying, on-the-nose facial expression. I've found this sort of thing to be quite common among anxious, eager young actors who sometimes pin their hopes and dreams and desperation onto "under-five" roles that were never intended to be the center of the film's universe. The result is a roller-coaster ride of disparate reactions and maniacal acting choices––which is something that I obviously enjoy quite a bit, in the right context.




The world had not yet broken young Harrison––he hadn't yet bombed out of the movies and turned back to carpentry (from which he would be notably rescued by George Lucas during AMERICAN GRAFFITI), and he had not yet perfected his James Garner-ian tonal authority, his Lee Marvin-style physicality, or his Bob Mitchum-esque art of not giving a shit.


Harrison Ford, giving all the shits, so many shits, WHYYY AM I SO MISUNDERSTOOOOD, MAN

Compare this to the opposite end of the Fordian spectrum––perhaps the voiceover of BLADE RUNNER (mercifully unused in the director's/final cut), where he was actively trying to be terrible... which is certainly awful in its own way, but again note that it involves "actively trying." I think Ford is at his cocky, lazy best when he's coasting through the universe like he owns it (Han Solo, Indiana Jones, Rick Deckard etc.). The best part is that I think Ford himself is well-aware of the acting tendencies he had as a young man, because the only other times I've see it is when Ford's character is "acting"––i.e., when Indiana Jones pretends to be a Scottish tapestry enthusiast in INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE or when Rick Deckard impersonates a nerdy moral crusader in BLADE RUNNER.

Anyway, I think there's a lesson here about detachment and confidence and self-awareness and nervousness and desperation; in short, the art of letting go––and the grand and mysterious power sometimes vested in not givin' a shit.

Film Review: THE GLASS SHIELD (1994, Charles Burnett)

Stars: 3.8 of 5.
Running Time: 109 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Michael Boatman (CELEBRITY MOLE HAWAII, HAMBURGER HILL), Lori Petty (POINT BREAK, TANK GIRL), Ice Cube (GHOSTS OF MARS, THREE KINGS), Bernie Casey (IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS, SHARKY'S MACHINE), Richard Anderson (THE SIX MILLION DOLLAR MAN, FORBIDDEN PLANET), Michael Ironside (TOTAL RECALL, EXTREME PREJUDICE), M. Emmett Walsh (BLOOD SIMPLE, STRAIGHT TIME), Erich Anderson (FRIDAY THE 13TH PART IV, MISSING IN ACTION), Wanda de Jesus (BLOOD WORK, THE INSIDER), Don Harvey (CREEPSHOW 2, DIE HARD 2), Tommy Redmond Hicks (SHE'S GOTTA HAVE IT, JOE'S BED-STUY BARBERSHOP). Cinematography by Elliot Davis (SHAKES THE CLOWN, OUT OF SIGHT).
Tag-line: "In a world filled with violence... his only weapon is the truth!"
Best one-liner: "Puttin' in a little overtime, Fields?" (malevolently uttered by Michael Ironside)

Charles Burnett is one of America's greatest, most underrated independent filmmakers. His film KILLER OF SHEEP has recently undergone a critical rediscovery, and his masterpiece, TO SLEEP WITH ANGER, is a work of great power and possibly the finest entry in the "houseguest from hell" subgenre. Seriously, I can't recommend TO SLEEP WITH ANGER enough– it weaves FAUST, Southern folklore, realistic family dynamics, and Danny Glover's finest, most devilish performance into a corn-whisky-stained tapestry of down-home tension (with frequent humor!). Not available on DVD, I was able to finally see TO SLEEP WITH ANGER at the Museum of Modern Art's (in NYC) retrospective of Burnett's work. So rent the VHS, because it's worth it.

Anyway, that leads me to my next point. After ANGER failed to achieve the financial success that it deserved, Burnett decided to try something a little more commercial. Enter THE GLASS SHIELD. A muck-raking, Southern Cali true-crime tract in the mode that would define such later films as L.A. CONFIDENTIAL, TRAINING DAY, and DARK BLUE, THE GLASS SHIELD tells the tale of a black rookie cop who discovers terrifying levels of corruption in the Sheriff's office where he's been assigned. Marketed as an Ice Cube vehicle (which it's really not), it's a crime drama packed with talented character actors... including Michael Ironside. And so, a fan of Burnett's, I swung by the Museum of Modern Art once more- to see a Michael Ironside movie at the MOMA. It was truly a momentous occasion, and I don't foresee it happening again, at least until MOMA does a HIGHLANDER retrospective (fingers crossed).

On the whole, THE GLASS SHIELD isn't quite as hard-hitting as it wants to be, but it's still quite an enjoyable film. We've got Michael Boatman as the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed recent academy graduate who's about to enter a racially-charged quagmire of dirty cops and dirtier D.A.'s where no one can emerge unsullied.


As the corrupt buddy-detectives, we have M. Emmet Walsh

and Michael Ironside.

Seeing these two giants of character acting playing evil buddies truly warmed my heart. Walsh is a terminally ill good-ole boy wanting to provide for his family. He plays it with that standard 'goobery Walsh élan' which the man is well-known for. Ironside fans will find a lot to like as well: we see him holdin' a baby, making a ship in a bottle, saying "about" in such a manner that betrays his Canadian origins, and headlining his own bowling team called the 'Rough Riders.'

MICHAEL IRONSIDE IS KEEPING AN EYE ON YOU

As a team, Walsh and Ironside make a pretty fantastic, villainous peanut gallery, and, as a mind-blowing coup de grâce of things one should never see, Michael Ironside and M. Emmett Walsh share a make-out session. Well, actually, that's something of a lie: Michael Ironside performs CPR on M. Emmett Walsh, but you have to admit it sounds a little more newsworthy when I phrase it the other way. Anyways...

Then we got that staple of the early 90's: Lori Petty playing Lori Petty... that is to say a misfit, no-nonsense, spunky l'il lady with a short haircut.

I have to mention that she and Michael Ironside also co-starred in 1993's FREE WILLY, and he chose her to star in the only movie he's ever directed, 1999's THE ARRANGEMENT. They had to have been buddies. I like to imagine Lori Petty in a redneck bar, perhaps uttering something smart-assed and offensive, drawing the ire of like a dozen lead-pipe-wrench-slinging guys in Confederate flag bandanas. They circle her and chuckle, nefariously. Then Ironside shows up and starts beating the hell out of them as Lori Petty gulps purloined Black Label, straight from the tap. If somebody wants to turn this into a buddy movie, I will gladly pay to see it.

Then there's Ice Cube as a fall guy. Mr. Cube brings some genuine pathos to the role- as films like THREE KINGS and even GHOSTS OF MARS have indicated, he's got some acting chops and an innate likability even when he's playing sort of unlikable characters.

On the right there is Don Harvey as a redunkulously racist, simple-minded cop. You may remember him as the Kevin Bacon-meets-Peter Weller villainous sidekick from "Ol' Chief Woodenhead" in CREEPSHOW 2.

Then there's some nice, featured-supporting turns for Elliott Gould (as a crime victim...or is he?), Bernie Casey (as a severe defense attorney), Sy Richardson (as Ice Cube's father-in-law), Tommy Redmond Hicks (as a crusading preacher), and Richard Anderson (as the corrupt police chief). The cinematography by Elliot Davis is moody, shadowy, and possessing a deep, rich color palette. Also of note is Stephen James Taylor's minimalist score, full of ominous tones and disquieting screeches.

There are some scenes that ring rather false, and there's use of that old standby corrupt cop movie cliché "Dont...trust...anybody," but on the whole, it's entertainment + muck-raking in a tight, well-constructed package. I have no problem giving it nearly four stars.

-Sean Gill