Only now does it occur to me... TWILIGHT'S LAST GLEAMING (1977)

Only now does it occur to me... that TWILIGHT'S LAST GLEAMING (1977)––a film I hadn't even heard of until a few weeks ago––is one of the finest political thrillers of its generation. Directed by master craftsman Robert Aldrich (KISS ME DEADLY, THE DIRTY DOZEN, WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE, EMPEROR OF THE NORTH), it's a chamber drama of the highest order (and with the highest stakes possible), and the only contemporary film of its kind I can think of that explores the disillusionment of post-Nixon America with such magnified audacity.

The set-up is this: an Air Force General (Burt Lancaster) has threatened to spill a few inconvenient truths about the Vietnam War to the American public––and winds up in prison for his trouble.

After befriending some fellow convicts (Paul Winfield and Burt Young, in sympathetic performances),


he busts out of jail and hijacks a nuclear missile silo (!), threatening to begin WWIII unless the sitting President, who had nothing to do with Vietnam (Charles Durning, sort of standing in for Carter), publicly releases the incriminating documents. To modern audiences, it may encourage comparisons to THE ROCK (1996), from its likable, spurned, and volatile General to the ginger handling of green, gel-based chemical weapons (sarin gel) in a particularly suspenseful sequence.


Above all, it's an adult thriller, brilliantly acted and directed, that trusts its audience to understand its labyrinthine politics and moral shades of gray. It could easily be a stage play, with the nuclear bunker on stage left and the Oval Office on stage right.

Charles Durning is particularly remarkable––he's sensitive and firm in his portrayal, the kind of clearheaded President you'd want on the front lines when something heavy goes down, like Henry Fonda in FAIL-SAFE or Martin Sheen on THE WEST WING. He grapples with the idea of the presidency becoming a puppet beholden to a shadow government, wondering if said government does not trust its own people, how can the people trust it? As a Carter-figure operating under the shadow of the presidents who came before, he must determine whether or not executive opacity has already crossed its Rubicon––or does the corrupted infrastructure yet contain an exit strategy for a decent man?

There's also a great moment where a brigadier general steals Durning's scotch

and Durning reprimands him, shouting:

"That's my drink, you make your own fucking drink!"

The supporting cast is a Who's Who of Old Hollywood testosterone, featuring everyone from Melvyn Douglas to Joseph Cotten to Richard Jaeckel to Richard Widmark.
 
And because it's a thriller with so few locations, Aldrich pumps it up with a style best described as "Brian De Palma on steroids," with plenty of two-way, three-way, and four-way split screens. Unlike De Palma, the tone is slightly detached, and consequently you almost feel like you're watching different news feeds of a historical event, rather than different channels jockeying for your attention.


Finally, Jerry Goldmith's wonderful score lends it a real, melancholy, FIRST BLOOD vibe. Like that film, it paints a picture for people who aggressively love America but don't think it's above reproach. (I guess I'm saying not to expect THE GREEN BERETS.) In all, it's an underseen gem with a clear and fervent voice that suceeds both as a white-knuckle thriller and as an investigation of a sadder, wiser American people.





Also, on a more frivolous note––half of the Rebellion from STAR WARS is working for the U.S. government in this movie: Garrick Hagon (Biggs Darklighter in STAR WARS),


William Hootkins (Jek Porkins in STAR WARS),


and John Ratzenberger (Bren Derlin in THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK)


all appear in bit parts as American soldiers.

Film Review: MADIGAN (1968, Don Siegel)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 101 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Richard Widmark, Henry Fonda, Harry Guardino, Inger Stevens, James Whitmore.
Tag-lines: "If Detective Madigan kept his eyes on the killer instead of the broad..."
Best one-liner: "MAADIGAN!"

MADIGAN. What a great title. What a great name. What a great word to roar to the heavens in frustration- "MAAADIGAN!!" But on to the film: Don Siegel pulls no punches. He doesn't even know what that means. Probably thinks it means “punch harder.” That being said, MADIGAN is a fairly low-key movie. It's a movie of contrasts- public and private lives; jobs behind desks and on the mean streets; working class joes and upper-crust snobs; roughing a guy up in an alley and attending a gala in a tux.

Richard Widmark (PICKUP ON SOUTH STREET) and Harry Guardino (DIRTY HARRY), two tough cops who tackle moral quandaries with a sort of mean desperation written on their fists, represent the more sordid side of the coin. On the spick-and-span side is commissioner Henry Fonda, who tackles similar quandaries, only with his law books and cerebrum.

But despite all of these juxtapositions, not a moment in the film can be viewed in black-and-white terms. Siegel's not afraid to present our heroes threatening an old lady by nearly crushing her with a desk (see also: THE KILLERS), show a progressively diverse police force, or depict the complexities of infidelity and race relations. And he's not afraid to stage an ending that'll rip the guts out of you. (One can see his uncompromising legacy in the muted Euro-noir of Jean Pierre Melville and the brutally contemplative Yakuza flicks of Takeshi Kitano.) Widmark's up to his slimily endearing old tricks, punching out a guy in a bar and telling him to "sit down and drink your milk," bein' an all-around smooth operator, and doing a bit of the elderly-terrorizing I referred to earlier (perhaps in a nod to his notorious 'wheelchair down the stairs' scene in KISS OF DEATH?).

My only complaint is the nauseatingly cheerful score by Don Costa (who is NO Lalo Schifrin). Overall, MADIGAN's not for everyone: if you want nonstop slam-bang-pop, you came to the wrong place. But for those in need of a thoughtful policier, look no further.

-Sean Gill

Film review: PICKUP ON SOUTH STREET (1953, Sam Fuller)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 80 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Richard Widmark (KISS OF DEATH, THE ALAMO, NIGHT AND THE CITY, PANIC IN THE STREETS), Jean Peters (VIVA ZAPATA!, NIAGARA), Thelma Ritter (THE MISFITS, REAR WINDOW, ALL ABOUT EVE), and Richard Kiley (NIGHT GALLERY, PATCH ADAMS?!). Directed by pulp cinema legend Sam Fuller (SHOCK CORRIDOR, WHITE DOG, THE NAKED KISS, THE STEEL HELMET, VERBOTEN).

Tag-lines: " How the law took a chance on a B-girl... and won!"
Best one-liner(s): "You'll always be a two-bit cannon. And when they pick you up in the gutter dead, you're hand'll be in a drunk's pocket." AND "I have to go on making a living so I can die. But even a fancy funeral ain't worth waiting for if I've gotta do business with crumbs like you."

PICKUP ON SOUTH STREET is almost handled like a science experiment. Sam Fuller delights in putting large doses of humanity's lower depths and a splash of Red paranoia into that Petri dish that is Manhattan, then sloshing it around and watching the ensuing verbal barbs, squealing, slapping, unexpected romance, and outright mayhem. However, like another great scientist of cinema, Werner Herzog, Mr. Fuller was also a connoisseur and devotee of humankind's idiosyncrasies. The love he puts into his characters makes them real: Skip's East River shack and unconventional method of keeping his beers cold, the tiny gestures and costume elements, Lightning Louie's use of chopsticks- its the kind of swift attention to detail that perfectly illustrates Fuller's background as a newspaperman. Fuller also had a background as a military man, which can be seen in how he treats film as a battleground of clashing characters, emotions, dialogue, and action (a sentiment which he famously intoned in PIERROT LE FOU). And Fuller also had a background as a sonofabitch, which can clearly be seen in scenes like when Richard Widmark finds Jean Peters in his shack, punches her out, revives her by pouring cold beer on her head, and then makes out with her thirty seconds later.


Fuller was another in the pantheon (that included Hawks, Huston, Peckinpah, and others) who knew how to weave a fantastic fast-paced narrative, how to build an ensemble of well-developed characters, when to use violence and when not to, when to cave in on studio demands and when not to, and overall, plainly, how to DIRECT.

-Sean Gill