Only now does it occur to me... HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE (2003)

Only now does it occur to me... that it's hard to imagine a more awkward turn-of-the-century buddy cop movie than HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE. Written and directed by Ron Shelton––a minor master of the modern sports pic (BULL DURHAM, COBB, TIN CUP, WHITE MEN CAN'T JUMP) and someone who, one year previous, managed to make an actually decent LAPD movie (DARK BLUE)––HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE serves up a true smörgåsbord of clumsy plotting, wooden gags, character actors trying their hardest, and stars who clearly hate each other. It's also the only buddy cop movie I can think of that spends at least 1/3 of its run-time making in-jokes about property values and the L.A. realty scene.

I could begin with Lou Diamond Phillips' baffling appearance as an undercover cop/trans prostitute:


a role that nevertheless ends with the audience muttering, "Well, in the eyes of history, it's still possible that LDP actually conducted himself less shamefully than Harrison Ford."

Which leads us to HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE's centerpiece: "Doesn't-Give-A-Shit Harrison Ford." And before you tell me that this is simply Harrison Ford's default state, might I remind you that this wasn't always true.

I suppose the reality is a little more nuanced than that. Perhaps this is better described as "Miserable Harrison Ford." And even though I am a Harrison Ford fan who grew up on Han Solo and Indiana Jones, there is something essentially and magnificently funny about seeing Ford undergo trials of pure agony for a paycheck he doesn't even need. However, I think we can all agree that this can't really be the backbone of a successful motion picture.

Take, for instance, this scene of L.A. cop Harrison Ford coming home after a long day of busting bad guys to drink some Scotch. It's basically a retread of his domestic scenes in BLADE RUNNER. And yet. The script calls for Ford to unwind with a weird little solo dance of relaxation. Obviously, Harrison Ford hates this.





Hates it with every fiber of his being. He's clearly restraining himself from murdering everyone on set. But Harrison: why aren't you back home then, in Wyoming? Shut away from this world of troublesome people and public places, hermetically sealed, just the way you like it, ya lovable misanthrope? Maybe he's just a masochist.

...As depicted in these sex scenes with THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING's Lena Olin.


"Bad cop, no doughnut?" HE HATES THIS.


Time for the blindfolds. Of course this is a set up for an excruciating, doughnut-devouring sexual climax:

HE IS SO UPSET RIGHT NOW. It's probably a violation of the Geneva Convention to put Harrison Ford through this much mental anguish. I'm trying to imagine Harrison Ford hosting SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE. Seems like he should've at this point, right? But he never did. I think that's because the strain of being zany in skits he wouldn't understand might just kill him. They probably should have saved Natalie Portman's "she lost the will to live" dumb STAR WARS death for Han Solo. Harrison Ford definitely could have pulled that off.

And we haven't even come to the matter of Ford's co-star, the yoga-teaching rookie cop Josh Hartnett.

Apparently they couldn't stand each other whatsoever, with Ford constantly calling Hartnett "punk" and Hartnett calling Ford an "old fart." They should have at least tried to put some of that antagonism in the movie! Instead poor Keith David is over here holding the bag, trying to act while they avoid eye contact.

 

Some of us are professionals

And whatever happened to Josh Hartnett? He was hot shit for a minute there. If you're not considering "Harrison Ford Revenge Plot" then you haven't been paying attention.

Hey, look, it's Bruce Greenwood!

It actively makes me sad to see him trying so hard. Hang it up, Bruce. Save that good shit for Atom Egoyan.

Also trying, Lolita Davidovich (RAISING CAIN, COBB, GODS AND MONSTERS)

who does pretty well for herself despite being saddled with a $20 wig. Oh, okay, maybe it's a $35 wig.

C'mon, Martin Landau? He was old. You producers made him get out of bed to be in a movie this bad? Shame on you.

I don't even have time to show you all the celebrity cameos, from Gladys Knight to Eric Idle to Andre 3000 to Robert Wagner. THE PLAYER, this ain't. Anyway. You were probably a lot happier before you learned about HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE, weren't you?

Film Review: TRUE CRIME (1999, Clint Eastwood)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 127 minutes.
Tag-line: "Clint Eastwood."
Notable Cast or Crew: Clint Eastwood, Isaiah Washington (DEAD PRESIDENTS, OUT OF SIGHT), James Woods, Denis Leary, Michael McKean (CLUE, THIS IS SPINAL TAP), Erik King (DEXTER, STREET SMART), Bernard Hill (THE TWO TOWERS, DROWNING BY NUMBERS), Lisa Gay Hamilton (THE PRACTICE, JACKIE BROWN), Lucy Liu (KILL BILL, PAYBACK), Michael Jeter (TALES OF THE CITY, JURASSIC PARK 3), Diane Venora (HEAT, A.D., THE COTTON CLUB), Sydney Poitier (DEATH PROOF), Marissa Ribisi (ENCINO WOMAN), Anthony Zerbe (COOL HAND LUKE, KISS MEETS THE PHANTOM OF THE PARK).
Best one-liner: "I'll have a Virgin Mary... heavy on the Virgin."

TRUE CRIME kind of gets a bum rap. It didn't have the no-holds-barred pseudo-Fascist gunplay of DIRTY HARRY, the Oscar-bait pull of UNFORGIVEN, or the reflective artistic brilliance of WHITE HUNTER, BLACK HEART. It opened to mixed reviews and geriatric cheap shots, and was something of a bomb, too, earning back only $16 million of its $55 million budget. But I say: so what? I think we can all agree that this is no UNFORGIVEN. But I'm more than willing to settle for a well-acted mystery drama with all-around solid craftsmanship and Clint's 'Zen' touch. So here's ten reasons why TRUE CRIME is better than the conventional critical narrative would have you believe:

#1. James Woods. The consummate skeeze.

Every moment he's on screen, the proceedings feel like a lesser Mamet play. I only include the descriptor 'lesser' because the script was not, in fact, penned by Mamet. Utterances such as "Look, if he comes to me for your ass, I'm going to have to give it to him. Then you'll just be a hole, with no ass around it!" or "Stop fucking Bob's wife. He doesn't like it," may not be Pulitzer-worthy barbs, but, by God, they get the job done. Naturally, Woods brings it his all.

He even gets a 'SAY WHUTTT,' frozen-in-mid-candy-bar-bite moment that will, in all likelihood, blow your mind.


#2. Odd Lynchian touches. Now I've made the unlikely comparison between Eastwood and Lynch in a previous review, and I'm prepared to stand behind it. Here, examples include this mysterious, gradual tracking shot into the shattered, gaping maw of a broken windshield,

and later on, some slow-motion pounding and screaming on a glass barrier that borders on the abstract.

#3. Michael McKean in a serious role, as the prison's resident death row clergyman. It's not necessarily one of his most memorable performances, but it's a nice bit.


#4. Womanizing, philandering, "She looked eighteen to me," 68-year-old Clint.


'Nobody needs to see that,' some might complain. And maybe they're right. Maybe he was just coasting on that BRIDGES OF MADISON COUNTY high, and thought he'd drum up extra female viewers who wanted to see some Clint-cake (?!) on display.


YOWZA

He even tries to work his magic on shop clerk Lucy Liu:



Anyway, this sort of behavior leads to–

#5. This particular tortured look on Clint's face as his pissed-off, long-suffering wife slams the door in his face.


#6. Clint cleaning the pocket-sized J&B bottles out of his back seat before taking his daughter to the zoo.

And speaking of the Zoo:

#7. The Zoo Trip. Now the trip to the Zoo begins with Clint zestfully inquiring to his daughter "ARE YOU READY FOR THE BIG HIPPO?!," which is, without a doubt, the most macabre remark I've ever heard pass through Clint's lips. Regardless, they arrive at the Zoo, whereupon Clint realizes that the clock is ticking, and he must return to his time-sensitive investigation forthwith. Before you can say "Okay, Lets play speed zoo!," Clint is flying his kid down the thoroughfare in a cart traveling faster than a speeding bullet. But then–

Whoa-oa-oa–

WHOOOOOPS

And the horrified onlookers take judgmental note of Clint's subpar parenting skills-



– as Clint tries to salvage his dignity and his daughter's sullied jean-jacket. It's an incredible scene.

#8. Michael Jeter. He plays a sleazebag almost as often as James Woods, and with comparably potent results. Also: I've rarely seen him without a bowtie.


#9. The tremendous pathos of Isaiah Washington and Lisa Gay Hamilton. As the convicted killer (whose guilt Clint wishes to determine) and his wife, respectively, Washington and Hamilton's performances are the fulcrum on which this film pivots.

If you don't care about them, then, ostensibly, you don't care about the movie. Luckily for the movie, they pull it off.

#10. The critical exchange between Clint and Isaiah Washington, during which Clint becomes determined to go on his balls-to-the-wall truth-finding mission. Washington's character has less than twelve hours to an appointment with lethal injection. Eastwood's a larger-than-life, grizzled old hardass. Of course the scene is gonna be good. And Clint gets things off to a great start–


"Mister Beachum... Frankly I don't give a rat's ass about Jesus Christ and I don't care about justice in this world, or the next..."

It's a damned solid scene and a shining example of first-rate Clint, who- as GRAN TORINO continued to prove– refuses to embrace decrepitude and its byproducts. TRUE CRIME is not top-tier Eastwood, but it's a well-made film with some outstanding moments, and it proudly deserves to occupy a slot in Clint's oeuvre. Four stars.

-Sean Gill