Film Review: NEAR DARK (1987, Kathryn Bigelow)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 94 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Directed by Kathryn Bigelow (THE LOVELESS, THE HURT LOCKER, POINT BREAK). Written by Bigelow and Eric Red (THE HITCHER, BODY PARTS). Music by Tangerine Dream. Starring Adrian Pasdar (SOLARBABIES, TOP GUN), Jenny Wright (PINK FLOYD'S THE WALL; I, MADMAN), Lance Henriksen (ALIENS, THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM), Bill Paxton (TRUE LIES, ALIENS), Tim Thomerson (DOLLMAN, TRANCERS), Joshua John Miller (TEEN WITCH, RIVER'S EDGE). Cinematography by Adam Greenberg (THE TERMINATOR, 10 TO MIDNIGHT, 3 MEN AND A BABY).
Tag-line: "Killing you would be easy, they'd rather terrify you...forever."
Best one-liner: "Caleb, those people back there, they wasn't normal. Normal folks, they don't spit out bullets when you shoot 'em, no sir." (Later paraphrased in FROM DUSK TILL DAWN.)

I'm sure a fair amount of you have seen NEAR DARK. For those who haven't, it's a two-fisted, shit-kickin' vampire Western that sort of combines all of my favorite things about THE LOST BOYS, Carpenter's VAMPIRES, and POINT BREAK. It slits your throat with a sharpened spur, sears your skin, and explodes in a grotesque display of vampiric immolation. Now, with that in mind, take a gander at the DVD re-release cover:

Sweet God- my worst fears realized- NEAR DARK appropriated by the lily-livered aficionados of TWILIGHT, CGI, and unbridled airbrushing! But it doesn't matter– here's nine reasons why, even if it's remade and/or commandeered by these knuckleheads, NEAR DARK will still live on as an 80's genre classic:

#1. The vampires' mode of travel: a beat-up, nasty old Recreational Vehicle.

There's no sugar-coating their nomadic, hand-to-fang, poverty-stricken existence. They cruise around in a pedophile-mobile with blacked-out windows cause they've got no other choice. No Gothic mansions, no Ann Ricey-TWILIGHTY-romanticized shenanigans- it's a daily struggle for survival that's closer to Buñuel's LAND WITHOUT BREAD or Marc Singer's DARK DAYS than some TRUE BLOOD wankfest. And the RV says it all.

#2. Hey, look, it's a James LeGros cameo!

If you can't appreciate the simple joy of an unexpected LeGros appearance, maybe you don't deserve to enjoy NEAR DARK. And Bigelow even spares him in the midst of a vampire rampage, thus continuing to prove my theory that anybody and everybody worth their salt has a soft spot for LeGros.

#3. The Tangerine Dream score. While on the whole it's not one of their very best scores (like their work on THIEF, FLASHPOINT, or THE PARK IS MINE), certain tracks- like "Bus Station"- possess a certain, fleeting atmospheric quality, like an entrancing invitation to a dangerous fairy-tale world. In short, it's the kind of music that, even though it's looping endlessly on the DVD menu, oddly, it doesn't bother you. In fact, you're looking for an excuse not to start the movie, cause you'd kind of like to listen to Tangerine Dream for just a little longer if ya don't mind.

#4. Tim Thomerson. Undervalued. Underused. Under-recognized.

And here in the kind of mainstream, stalwart, square-jawed, all-American farmer role he should have been booking more often. He's likeable, believable, and deserves to be a household name. And not just in Charles Band's household. Perhaps I exaggerate, but come on, let's hear it for Thomerson.

#5. Bill Paxton is loopier than a corkscrew.

I think that the critical acclaim for a show such as BIG LOVE has made the world, to some
extent, forget that Paxton made his name as one of the zaniest hombres this side of the Marx Brothers.

"I hate 'em when they ain't been shaved!" he laments (as he slurps the blood from an unkempt, hirsute biker). He dances, he prances, he lacerates necks with a sharpened spur. He blows air kisses, blows people away with a six-gun, and shouts "Bullseye!" afterwards. Why a vampire would need to resort to firearms is anybody's guess, but Paxton makes it so you don't really care so long as he keeps twirlin' em and verbalizin' his smart-assed remarks.

Something to ponder: are these the same pleather pants that reappear in BOXING HELENA?

"Finger-lickin' good!" he declares after a particularly fiendish bout of blood-drinking.

Bravo, Paxton. Bravo.

#6. Joshua John Miller. AKA 'The Creepy Kid from RIVER'S EDGE and TEEN WITCH. Other than David Bennent, I'm unsure I can think of anyone more qualified to play the role of 'irascible, centuries old vampire trapped in a child's body.'

#7. Adam Greenberg's cinematography.

Bigelow- via her then-paramour, James Cameron- had already got her hands on Paxton and Henriksen, so why not raid his DP, as well? Bigelow, originally a painter, has always been able to extract striking images from her cinematographers, and the magnificent visuals here are dusty, weather-beaten, and severe. And since I already mentioned that Bigelow was a painter, I'll also mention that her first studio was in an Off-Track Betting building. That's what NEAR DARK is, in a nutshell. Crude yet painterly visions transmitted directly from the scrap-paper and cigarette-butt strewn floors of an OTB. Print that in the paper.

#8. The way the vamps burn.

More like the spontaneous combustion of a back-alley wino than a poetic end to an aristocratic villain, the slow-motion searing and flaying of skin and the blackening of their shabby, smoldering rags makes for quite a memorable, mesmerizing visual despite the grotesquery, even though I'm not sure if grotesquery is, in fact, a real word.

#9. Lance Henriksen.

Gaunt, heavily scarred, possessing a wicked rat-tail, and at one point explaining that he's a Civil War veteran ("I fought for the South. We lost."), Henriksen is, as always, scary good. "Your skin is as soft as a preacher's belly," he can be heard to declare with the sort of impassive malevolence that defines his performance. His character, Jesse Hooker, is a sort of 'bottom line' kinda guy. He's not evil per se (although, uh, it is insinuated that he set the Great Chicago Fire of 1871), he just happens to look out for number one in such a way that he leaves a trail of massacred innocents and general sleazy vampire wreckage in his wake, wherever he goes, whenever he goes. He also cheekily spits up the bullets he's been shot with and uses them to taunt his adversaries.

Lance Henriksen: certainly deserving a place in the vampire hall-of-fame.

Four stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE HITCHER (1986, Robert Harmon)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 97 minutes.
Tag-line: "Out on the desert highway, the rule of thumb has a different meaning..."
Notable Cast or Crew: Written by Eric Red (NEAR DARK, BLUE STEEL, BODY PARTS). Starring Rutger Hauer, C. Thomas Howell, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Jeffrey DeMunn (THE BLOB '88, THE MIST). Cinematography by John Seale (WITNESS, THE FIRM, THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY).
Best one-liner: "How do you like 'Shitsville'?" Well, it's way better when Rutger Hauer says it.

Well, it's Earth Day. And it only seems right- although it certainly was unplanned- for it to coincide with Rutger Hauer week, with Hauer being an outspoken advocate of animal rights and conservationism, amongst other noble aims. [In fact, as of this moment, Rutger's putting forth an effort to secure the release of unduly imprisoned New Zealander whale rights champion Captain Pete Bethune, which you should check out.] Regardless, on this Earth Day, I shall discuss a film where Rutger Hauer's mere presence leads to the wholesale destruction of half the cars and helicopters in the Southwest (maybe he wanted to reduce greenhouse gas emissions?).

THE HITCHER flirts with genius... then it blows up some helicopters. It's as if John Woo remade THE WRONG MAN. But, in a way, that's why I like it. It's a paranoid western, a Hitchcockian road movie, a highway slasher, and a balls-out shoot 'em up. On the one hand, we have slick visuals, a spine-chilling villain, desolate locales, an encroaching aura of suspense; on the other, we've got confusing plot twists, unfathomable character motivations, the stilted offscreen death of a main character, and more car wrecks than USED CARS and THE BLUES BROTHERS put together. It's abundantly clear that Robert Harmon and Eric Red did not set out to make an art film- more likely they wanted the equivalent of an action-packed, feature length TWILIGHT ZONE episode, a pursuit at which they succeed. However, there's one variable that I don't think they could have predicted- the extent to which Rutger Hauer would transform the film into his own personal, claustrophobic, homoerotic hell ride.

Rutger Hauer is in your car. Rutger Hauer is in your face.
In fact, he's not just in your face, he's IN YOUR EYE.

He's relentless. As the enigmatic John "Ryder," he roams and rules the highways with windswept, chilly puissance. He's basically omniscient, invulnerable, and possesses the ability to POP UP RIGHT WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT. Maybe he's Satan? God? It doesn't matter. You believe every second of it. He's Roy Batty, for godssakes.

The poor sap who he's tormenting is played by C. Thomas 'Ponyboy' Howell. (Or, as some like to call him, C. Thomas 'Soul Man' Howell). Howell begins as a fresh-faced goofus who thinks it's a good idea to pick up Rutger Hauer on a dark and stormy night. He slowly transforms (by necessity) into a mucky, dust-covered, single-minded barbarian (I was reminded of Caleb's similar metamorphosis in Red's vampire western, NEAR DARK). Along the way, he meets up with disaffected waitress Jennifer Jason Leigh (fresh off of FLESH + BLOOD with Rutger)

and good-hearted but often confused cop, played by Jeffrey DeMunn. They're both excellent, and insert some much-needed pathos in a film dominated by merciless man versus man action.

This movie is ridiculous. There's more mind-boggling "cat and mouse" reversals and confrontations in the first 20 minutes than in the entirety of your average thriller. I mean, you're about to see a film of this kind and you can pretty much predict that a gas station will erupt into an inferno of blazing detonations and wondrous Hollywood FX. That's a given. Most pictures would save it for the final act. THE HITCHER lays it down at about the 23 minute mark- because that's just the sort of movie that it is.

We're even entreated to the haunting image of a car streaking away from said explosion, its hood swathed in flames. The cinematography, by John Seale, is astounding. Desert storms, deep blue skies, darkness and illumination; flaring headlamps, polarized landscapes, and warm roadside diners.



But the meat and potatoes of this film are clearly the whirling dances of death between Hauer and Howell. Emphasis on 'dances.' "There's something strange going on between the two of you," says the good-spirited Captain DeMunn. Wow, you said it. Now, apparently, C. Thomas became extremely afraid of Rutger Hauer for real during the shooting of this film. It's not hard to see why. Hauer transforms every interaction between himself and Howell into a theoretical hotbed of sadism, savagery, and primal sexual desires. Every time Hauer is near, you can tell that he's intently thinking about kissing C. Thomas, then maybe about snapping his neck afterward.

Hauer is so deeply entrenched in the character, that he knows which buttons to press to make C. Thomas actually uncomfortable. C. Thomas knows that a hateful yet passionate kiss is not is the script, but when somebody as absolutely committed as Rutger is around, da script don't mean shit.



Don't worry, C. Thomas, he was just leaning in to cryptically put pennies on your eyes... this time.

Later, C. Thomas and Rutger inexplicably hold hands.

C. Thomas diffuses the tension by spitting in Rutger's face. Rutger equalizes the power dynamic by LOVING IT.


Then he plays with the spit for a few unnerving moments- lets it roll down his fingers. Cradles it. Like a baby. Conserves it like a precious resource (for Earth Day?).

Now let's see here- who won the Oscar that year? Best Actor was Paul Newman for THE COLOR OF MONEY. I guess I'm not gonna begrudge Paul Newman anything. Best supporting actor was Michael Caine for HANNAH AND HER SISTERS. Also nominated was Dennis Hopper for HOOSIERS, because they didn't have the balls to nominate him for BLUE VELVET. Well, here's what should have happened. Cancel all the other awards, and stick Dennis Hopper and Rutger Hauer up on the stage. Let them try and creep each other out for an hour or two, or a year- however long it takes. Whoever wins gets all the awards. Who's with me?

Anyway, this movie also sets the precedent of Rutger Hauer popping out from behind cutesy things that belong to children– a teddy bear is slowly lowered to reveal....RUTGER HAUER.

More on this in a later review...

In closing... wow. Things you should take away from this: Hauer is a genius. Howell is a goofus. Actually, I just like the word 'goofus.' But always, always, always check your french fries. Four stars.

-Sean Gill

Side note: From what I hear, J.D. over at Radiator Heaven has got a big 'ole appreciation of THE HITCHER in the works, so stay tuned...

EDIT: J.D.'s article can be found here.

Film Review: BLUE STEEL (1989, Kathryn Bigelow)

Stars: 3.9 of 5.
Running Time: 102 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Written by Eric Red (writer of THE HITCHER, NEAR DARK, BODY PARTS) and Kathryn Bigelow. Starring Jamie Lee Curtis, Clancy Brown (EXTREME PREJUDICE, HIGHLANDER, Kelvin on TV's LOST), Ron Silver (SILENT RAGE), Tom Sizemore, Louise Fletcher (ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST, THE EXORCIST II), Richard Jenkins (THE VISITOR, BURN AFTER READING), Elizabeth Peña (JACOB'S LADDER, LONE STAR). Produced by Oliver Stone and Edward R. Pressman.
Tag-line: "For a rookie cop, there's one thing more dangerous than uncovering a killer's fantasy. Becoming it."
Best one-liner: "Hey man... DO I LOOK LIKE I'M FUCKING ORDERING TAKE OUT?"

If credulity is a rubber band, then BLUE STEEL stretches it all the way from Battery Park to Washington Heights. And that's okay. As in POINT BREAK, Kathryn Bigelow is more interested in a character study that involves deep immersion in the ‘first-person adrenaline rush’ than a realistic police procedural. The film drips with style- it's full of fetishistic close-ups of revolver chambers spinning and whirring in eye-popping slow-mo.

Shafts and beams of sunlight cut and slice through tableaus like a thousand hot knives through butter. It looks great.

The acting is first-rate, as well– Jamie Lee Curtis sells her hardass cop 110%.

Ron Silver, as the Wall Street psycho, sometimes goes over the top,

but he always remains connected to the role, even when bathing himself in a hooker's steaming blood.

Clancy Brown is at once severe, classy and affable. He's the kind of cop who, while keeping tabs on Jamie Lee Curtis, breaks into her apartment and helps himself to her corn chips.

CLANCY BROWN WILL TAKE YOUR CORN CHIPS AWAY IF HE WANTS

Later, during a memorable confrontation with Silver, his steely-eyed gaze nearly bores a hole through the damn screen.

Ron Silver's intense stare: intense.

Clancy Brown's intense stare: DAMNED intense.

The always-talented Louise Fletcher (as Jamie Lee's mom), Richard Jenkins (as a skeezy lawyer), and Tom Sizemore (as himself):

are around for bit parts, too. Oliver Stone and Edward Pressman were co-producers on this film, and occasionally shifts in atmosphere remind one of WALL STREET or TALK RADIO.

Regardless, if there's a problem here, it's in the script. The deck hasn't been stacked this ludicrously since DIRTY HARRY. There's an abusive spouse subplot that is so hackneyed, it actually involves a can of beer getting popped open, followed by the line "Hey, she fell down the stairs!" The events that lead to Jamie Lee getting suspended and then earning her detective's badge within 5 minutes are appalling ("I don't like it, but we gotta give you your shield- I wish there was some other way"). Woww. But I kinda knew all this when I signed up for it, so… Nearly four stars is incredibly generous, but, hey, I'm a generous guy.

Side note: I would also cite this as a major influence on (or at least a point of departure for) Bret Easton Ellis' AMERICAN PSYCHO (1991) and the subsequent film.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: BODY PARTS (1991, Eric Red)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 88 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Jeff Fahey (THE LAWNMOWER MAN, WHITE HUNTER BLACK HEART), Brad Dourif (ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST, DEADWOOD), Kim Delaney (MISSION TO MARS, DELTA FORCE, HUNTER'S BLOOD), Zakes Mokae (DUST DEVIL, OZ, Tony-winner for MASTER HAROLD... AND THE BOYS), editor Anthony Redman (LONE WOLF MCQUADE, BAD LIEUTENANT) and director Eric Red (writer of NEAR DARK, BLUE STEEL, and THE HITCHER).
Tag-lines: "It will scare you... to pieces."
Best one-liners: "I now have a murderer's blood in my blood."

Man, Jeff Fahey was totally on a hot streak in the late 80's, early 90's. Kind of like a latter-day, less mainstream Roy Scheider, he was given myriad chances to shine- and he did- but his star somehow refused to take hold.

Fahey, 1991.

Fahey, 2008.

Thankfully, his career's been given a real resurgence lately thanks to PLANET TERROR and TV's LOST, but anyone who thinks Fahey can't carry a feature need look no further than BODY PARTS. Amputation is such a visceral, unsettling motif- since the dawn of cinema, masters like Lon Chaney (THE UNKNOWN, THE PENALTY) have exploited it to tremendous effect. Then came the trend of 'killer's body parts transplanted to make ordinary people killers' genre which kind of envelops everything from FRANKENSTEIN to THE HANDS OF ORLAC to MAD LOVE. BODY PARTS hitches on to these rich traditions, combines it with the modern-day medical thriller and a script adapted from a novel by the writers of DIABOLIQUE, VERTIGO, and EYES WITHOUT A FACE, and it makes for a film that feels at once conventional and inventive, and one which truly remains unnerving until the very last frame. The editing, by Abel Ferrara-regular Anthony Redman, and the visuals, by Dutch cinematographer Theo van de Sande, are crisp, glossy, terse, and accentuate each other perfectly. Fahey is on fire- he makes everything involving the arm gruelingly realistic, and you continually feel his pain and exhaustion. He gives us a man in psychological turmoil, a loving father, and a steadfast asskicker without once disconnecting from the character and going over the top. We've got an awesome supporting turn from Brad Dourif as well as a manic, grotesquely-inspired artist.

There's even a sweet barfight scene reminiscent of THE FLY where we get to see the murderous body parts in action.

Four solid stars. For a similar feel, also see Dario Argento's TRAUMA, his 1993 medical thriller which also happens to contain a neck brace car chase, multiple amputations, and the acting talents of Mr. Dourif.

-Sean Gill