R.I.P., John Hurt

It saddens me to report that John Hurt, character acting legend and he of the velvet voice of I, CLAUDIUS; ALIEN, WATERSHIP DOWN, THE ELEPHANT MAN, and MIDNIGHT EXPRESS, has passed on. I've described his performances as "perhaps the finest narration of all time," "beleaguered and badass," "eccentric and dripping with pathos," "the best Caligula," "surly and greasy," "hypnotically affable," "a standard-bearer for sheer, in-the-moment craft," "gently terrifying," and "mysteriously comforting." The landscape of cinema will never quite be the same.

A selection of my John Hurt movie reviews:

DEAD MAN (1995, Jim Jarmusch)
HEAVEN'S GATE (1980, Michael Cimino) 
THE HIT (Stephen Frears, 1984)
THE LIMITS OF CONTROL (2009, Jim Jarmusch)
THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND (1983, Sam Peckinpah)
WATERSHIP DOWN (1978, Martin Rosen)
WILD BILL (1995, Walter Hill)

Film Review: DEAD MAN (1995, Jim Jarmusch)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 121 minutes.
Tag-line: "No one can survive becoming a legend."
Notable Cast or Crew: Johnny Depp (CRY-BABY, EDWARD SCISSORHANDS), Gary Farmer (ADAPATION, GHOST DOG), Crispin Glover (BACK TO THE FUTURE, WILD AT HEART), Lance Henriksen (NEAR DARK, ALIENS, PUMPKINHEAD), Michael Wincott (THE CROW, ROMEO IS BLEEDING), Eugene Byrd (SLEEPERS, THE SUBSTITUTE 2: SCHOOL'S OUT), John Hurt (ALIEN, I CLAUDIUS), Robert Mitchum (CAPE FEAR, OUT OF THE PAST), Iggy Pop (TANK GIRL, ROCK AND RULE), Gabriel Byrne (THE USUAL SUSPECTS, MILLER'S CROSSING), Jared Harris (NATURAL BORN KILLERS, THE WARD), Billy Bob Thornton (ARMAGEDDON, TOMBSTONE), Mili Avital (STARGATE, THE END OF VIOLENCE), Alfred Molina (RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, SPECIES).  Music by Neil Young.  Cinematography by Robby Müller (REPO MAN, DANCER IN THE DARK, BODY ROCK, TO LIVE AND DIE IN L.A., and PARIS, TEXAS).
Best One-liner: "That weapon will replace your tongue. You will learn to speak through it. And your poetry will now be written with blood."

Welcome to DEAD MAN, the metaphysically brutal 90s art-acid-Western you didn't know you needed, and quite possibly the enduring masterpiece of indie auteur Jim Jarmusch.
 
You could call it 'the ERASERHEAD of Westerns,' or perhaps 'Franz Kafka-by-way-of John Ford,' or maybe 'an Ansel Adams horror movie.'  It shuns Western nostalgia and renounces Hollywood aesthetics. It's tangibly authentic and usually frightening.  A collage of dirty, vintage Americana set to squealing Neil Young soundscapes.  A movie of dark textures, of grease and grit and gristle, of cesspools and ink wells and open wounds, of smoke and gears and timber and bone.






It goes without saying that cinematographer Robby Müller (REPO MAN, TO LIVE AND DIE IN L.A., BARFLY; PARIS, TEXAS) really outdoes himself here.  And for reference, let me remind you that the Academy Award for cinematography that year went to John Toll, for BRAVEHEART.

Our story follows the accountant William "no, not that William Blake" Blake (Johnny Depp) as he journeys from Cleveland to a job out west in the company town of Machine.
 
In a twist that would feel at home in THE TRIAL or THE CASTLE, there is no job––only an endless stream of bureaucratic contempt, paranoid behavior, and existential menace.

Said stream is initiated by an aggressively weird and soot-covered Crispin Glover:

continued by a surly, greasy John Hurt:

and brought to a crescendo by a latter-career Robert Mitchum who, naturally, continues to not give a damn.

My only question is: who got to keep that painting after the shoot wrapped? I'm only asking, cause there happens to be a Mitchum-painting-sized empty space on my living room wall.

Quite obviously, to anyone with even a vague conception of my interests, I think this is magnificent––and we're only about twenty minutes in.

After Blake is forced by circumstance to become a murderer (of Gabriel Byrne, no less!),

he goes on the lam

with a man named Nobody (Gary Farmer), a Native American who came of age after being kidnapped by a "savage circus" traveling show.
 
 Gary Farmer, pictured here doing a Slash impersonation.

The film at this point develops into an episodic, memento mori-style picaresque; an extended meditation on death and dying.  Jim Jarmusch thrives on textural juxtapositions and combinations of actors with different flavors (see also:  MYSTERY TRAIN, NIGHT ON EARTH, COFFEE AND CIGARETTES), and DEAD MAN treats us to several of these bizarre tableaux.  For instance, in one scene, Iggy Pop (wearing a LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE dress),

a molest-y Billy Bob Thornton,

and Jared (son of Richard) Harris share a campfire with Johnny Depp, in turns petting him and being generally terrifying.


Perhaps my favorite element of this scene is that Iggy Pop makes no attempt to conceal his conspicuous Detroit accent.

Elsewhere, we have Hurt, Mitchum, Michael Wincott (THE CROW, BORN ON THE FOURTH OF JULY), Eugene Byrd (SLEEPERS, THE SUBSTITUTE 2), and Lance Henriksen sharing the screen together,


an event that is clearly historic (and possibly on par with this Bill Murray/Robert Mitchum/John Glover shared scene).

I must give special mention to Lance Henriksen, whose résumé already boasts an entire rogue's gallery of frighteningly committed psychos.

He evolves into the film's major antagonist, death-angel of inevitability, a bounty-hunting cannibal of unimaginable cruelty who "fucked his parents," according to the gossip mill.

Perhaps needless to say, Henriksen is scary-good.  He has the look of a boogeyman who wandered beyond the confines of a cursed daguerreotype, and he fully embodies the role.  I'm reminded of the stories of from behind the scenes of NEAR DARK, when the method-acting Henriksen wandered the Southwest for real and picked up hitchhikers, all while in character as a Civil War-era, serial-killing vampire. Yikes! I really hope they had an SFX guy on set for the cannibal scenes...

Lance enjoys some takeout.

Perhaps betraying his Henriksen fandom, Jarmusch inserts a scene where a character says "God damn your soul to the fires of hell!" to which another replies, "He already has," which is a direct line from PUMPKINHEAD.

In connection with Henriksen, I also must make special mention of the film's unique visceral aspects. This isn't quite a gorefest, though there are some exceptionally vivid moments of violence that I remembered with terrible clarity.  That's especially surprising since this was only my second viewing, and my first must have been in 1996 or 1997, shortly after DEAD MAN hit the VHS rental shelves.
 
There is a brutal, dangerous beauty at play here, and the experience lays somewhere between "suffering from fever dreams" and "perusing a haunted taxidermy shop."  Depp, whom I've essentially neglected to mention thus far, brings it all together with a lyrical detachment worthy of his poetic namesake.  Five stars.


P.S.––Note the in-joke of two Johnny Depp-hunting marshals named "Lee" and "Marvin,"
 
a nod to Jarmusch's intense Lee Marvin fandom and notorious secret society, "The Sons of Lee Marvin."



–Sean Gill

Only now does it occur to me... THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND (1993)

Only now does it occur to me... that as we prepare for the long holiday weekend, the question we must ask ourselves is, "Shall we make this weekend an OSTERMAN WEEKEND?"  The answer is, indubitably, that we should and shall not. 

Technically Sam Peckinpah's swansong (based on a Robert Ludlum novel), THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND is a spy thriller with one of the greatest casts ever assembled:  

Burt Lancaster (BRUTE FORCE, FROM HERE TO ETERNITY, SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS, SEVEN DAYS IN MAY) playing as close an approximation to Alexander Haig as possible without being litigious:

 

Rutger Hauer (BLADE RUNNER, FLESH + BLOOD, BLIND FURY) in his first role as an "American," playing a television talking-head who's plunged into cloak n' dagger intrigue:

Meg Foster (she of the famous ice-blue eyes in THEY LIVE, MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE, and BLIND FURY) as a bow-hunting aficionado

who is married to Rutger (so BLIND FURY was really just an OSTERMAN WEEKEND reunion?):

John Hurt (he of the velvet voice from I, CLAUDIUS; ALIEN, WATERSHIP DOWN, THE ELEPHANT MAN, and MIDNIGHT EXPRESS) as a manipulated CIA lackey

 

who appears from time to time inside your microwave oven:

(I know it's not really a microwave, but still)

Dennis Hopper (BLUE VELVET, EASY RIDER, REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE)  as a creepy businessman with an RV (what else would he be?):

Craig T. Nelson (COACH, ACTION JACKSON) as a beefy, mustachioed man

 

who at one point enthusiastically strangles Rutger Hauer with a ball bat:

and Chris Sarandon (FRIGHT NIGHT, THE PRINCESS BRIDE, DOG DAY AFTERNOON) as a hot-tub frequenting, morally dubious crony.

It's no ninja hot tub, nor is it a Calamity Jane hot tub

Unfortunately, neither Peckinpah nor the amazing cast can save OSTERMAN from being the blandest of bland Cold War thrillers––it's a generic, exhausting mess that doesn't deliver in the suspense, coherence, or action departments.  The lack of compelling action is especially notable given that Peckinpah has never skimped when given the opportunity (he once said that BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA was the only film of his that didn't involve destructive studio interference).

Perhaps Peckinpah's original cut is worth our time (he was fired during post-production) but frankly, even if I could get my hands on it, I don't think I could get it up for anything OSTERMAN WEEKEND-related for a long while.

John Hurt will voice his disapproval with the most mellifluous voice in cinema.

If you're in the mood for some 80s spy action, allow me to recommend instead CLOAK & DAGGER, GOTCHA, THE FALCON AND THE SNOWMAN, or Grace Jones in A VIEW TO A KILL instead.  Happy Thanksgiving!

Only now does it occur to me... WATERSHIP DOWN

Only now does it occur to me...  that out of every hardboiled caper, martial arts tournament film, bloody shoot 'em up, or gritty gang movie of the 1970s, the most badass tagline of the decade just might belong to an animated film about rabbits.

Seriously, though:

"All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and when they catch you, they will kill you...

But first they must catch you." 

(It also bears mentioning that this is a wonderful, poetic, brutal work, a true labor of love from its makers, and one of the all-time great animated films.  I advise you to check out the recent Criterion release, as well as another, lesser-known film from the same novelist/director/vocal talent, called THE PLAGUE DOGS.)

Only now does it occur to me... HEAVEN'S GATE (1980)

Only now does it occur to me... that I'm not sure if a movie has ever been packed with as many beloved character actors as HEAVEN'S GATE, and I'll even include THE LONGEST DAY, COP LAND, THE EXPENDABLES, THE PLAYER, and MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS in consideration.

There's so much to say about HEAVEN'S GATE.  Probably too much.  From its tumultuous production that basically destroyed United Artists to its hideous reception to its latter-day critical re-evaluation to the Johnson County War on which it is based– one could fill a volume.  (And people have.)  In the end, I'd say it's an ambitious film which flirts with genius, is bogged down by poor pacing, but consistently holds the viewer spellbound with gorgeous Western imagery (courtesy of master cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond) even when the narrative begins to dawdle. 

So set aside nearly four hours and give it a try– I'd say it's worth the time for the curious, the Western fan, the cinematography aficionado, or the character actor die-hard.  But more on that in a minute.  Then, see FINAL CUT: THE MAKING AND UNMAKING OF HEAVEN'S GATE (available in eight parts on YouTube here), and go ahead and read this interview with Cimino himself for a little taste of the outlandish (and possibly insane) creature who lurks beneath the surface of this genuinely talented and occasionally virtuosic director.

But for now, fasten your seatbelts, and prepare for a whirlwind tour of character actors, the sheer magnitude of whom may even give you whiplash: 

Coming up on the left here is Eastwood crony Geoffrey Lewis (10 TO MIDNIGHT, MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL, DOUBLE IMPACT, BRONCO BILLY, 'SALEM'S LOT, MAVERICK) looking like the live action mountain man version of "Pigpen" from peanuts.

Attached to Geoffrey Lewis is a hand.  And in that hand is a tongue.  And that tongue is attached to...

...Mickey Rourke?  

 

Lookin' pretty young there, Mickey!  Good show.

Down the road a spell is Terry O'Quinn (THE STEPFATHER, BLIND FURY, THE X-FILES, SILVER BULLET, THE ROCKETEER, "John Locke" on LOST)

He's got his hair still, and is playing a baseball-luvin' member of the U.S. Calvary.  In a strange tie-in with his character on LOST, he's got an injured leg and is carrying an important and mysterious "list" of names.

Continuing on with our journey, here's Richard Masur (IT, THE THING, LICENSE TO DRIVE, MR. BOOGEDY, RENT-A-COP, RISKY BUSINESS, MY GIRL)

chomping on a corn cob pipe, giving his all to his colorful brogue, and looking about as intense as he's ever looked (no small feat for a man generally typecast as "suburban dad").

Over on the right here, to the left of that presumably 19th Century malt liquor is edgy queen of French cinema Isabelle Huppert (THE PIANO TEACHER, AMOUR, I HEART HUCKABEE, COUP DE TORCHON, LA CEREMONIE, Hal Hartley's AMATEUR).

Up here behind the beard is Brad Dourif (CHILD'S PLAY, WISE BLOOD, ALIEN: RESURRECTION, DEADWOOD, THE TWO TOWERS, DUNE, ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST, THE EXORCIST III, BLUE VELVET, GRIM PRAIRIE TALES)

and sure he doesn't have much to do, but it's a modern-day Western, so we had to have Brad Dourif in some kind of old-timey spectacles.  I think it should be written into the SAG paperwork.

Around the bend in the proto-pimp costume is Bronson heavy Paul Koslo (THE OMEGA MAN, VANISHING POINT, THE STONE KILLER, MR. MAJESTYK, CLEOPATRA JONES, FREEBIE AND THE BEAN, LOVE AND BULLETS).

Then, over in that train with the fur hat and the lip carpet is Sam Waterston (THE KILLING FIELDS, THE GREAT GATSBY, SERIAL MOM, LAW AND ORDER, CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS, CAPRICORN ONE)

who finally gets to play a bad guy, and to great effect!

Over to the side there, you can see a Kris Kristofferson (PAT GARRETT AND BILLY THE KID, BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA, CONVOY, FLASHPOINT, BIG-TOP PEE-WEE, BLADE, and star of CHRISTMAS IN CONNECTICUT, the only feature Arnold Schwarzenegger ever directed) in his natural habitat.

And wait– who's that in the shadows behind him?  Why, it's the film debut of Willem Dafoe (THE LOVELESS, WILD AT HEART, ANTICHRIST, SPIDERMAN, TO LIVE AND DIE IN L.A., THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST, EXISTENZ, BODY OF EVIDENCE, BOONDOCK SAINTS, THE ENGLISH PATIENT).  He's just an extra, but, hot damn!

Down the path a spell is none other than Jeff Bridges (TRON, THE BIG LEBOWSKI, CUTTER'S WAY, THE LAST PICTURE SHOW, KING KONG '76, STARMAN, THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT).

He's got a great intensity here in a supporting role– and supposedly when production wrapped, one of the many "cabin" sets were up for grabs, so Bridges swooped in, disassembled it, and reconstructed it on his ranch property!

Over in this glen is Christopher Walken (THE DEER HUNTER, ANNIE HALL, KING OF NEW YORK, THE DEAD ZONE, A VIEW TO A KILL, MCBAIN, BATMAN RETURNS, WAYNE'S WORLD 2, NEW ROSE HOTEL, KANGAROO JACK)

and I'll yes indeed shut my big mouth, shitpoke!  Another fine Walken badass role.

And then right here, if he'll put down the flask long enough for you to get a clear look– is none other than John Hurt (THE ELEPHANT MAN, I CLAUDIUS, ALIEN, THE HIT, 1984, THE STORYTELLER, KING RALPH, DOGVILLE, MIDNIGHT EXPRESS, DEAD MAN, HELLBOY, TINKER TAILOR SOLDIER SPY '11)!

He delivers an eccentric performance, dripping with pathos.  Like every other John Hurt performance!  The man is never anything less than superlative.

Then, upon examining the end credits, I realized that one of my favorites, Tom Noonan (MANHUNTER, HEAT, THE MONSTER SQUAD, THE LAST ACTION HERO, ROBOCOP 2, THE HOUSE OF THE DEVIL, DAMAGES), was in the film as "Jake," and I didn't notice him!  To be fair, he may have been standing around the back with a beard and hat on, and I'm sure I would have seen him if I'd been looking in advance, but allow me to repeat this sentiment:  there were so many character actors that I missed Tom Noonan.

Whew!  I'm impressed.  I hope you've enjoyed this breakneck tour of character actors.  And perhaps in closing, it begs to be asked:  where the hell was Harry Dean Stanton?