Death Wish

1974 gritty urban Western

Rating: 14/20

Plot: Jeff Goldblum and some other dangerous weirdos murder the wife of a guy with a mustache. Both the guy and the mustache decide to get revenge, take the law into his own hands, and become a vigilante killing machine.

It's ludicrous how many times this guy is the target of these thugs in this movie. Out of all the people (heck, out of all the architects) in New York City, they attempt over and over to mug this one architect who's carrying around a gun for purposes of shooting people just like them. What are the chances? I mean, what makes Bronson look like such an easy target? I never really bought him as an action hero when I was a kid. I maybe could have seen him playing Mario in a game based on the video game. Still, I don't see Charles Bronson and think, "There's a guy who'll be easy to mug. Let's get him, boys!" And it probably would be the mustache that would keep me away. When you're out there mugging with your posse, a mustache is usually a sign to steer clear, right? Am I wrong here? I think, by the way, that this movie is the reason why I always assumed New York City was the most dangerous place on earth when I was a kid. You've got people like Jeff Goldblum running around painting swastikas on people's walls and guys being attacked on the streets and subways every single night. I used to have nightmares about New York when I was a kid.

After some weird opening credits with a lengthy returning-home-from-vacation montage and a shot of Bronson's wife picking her ear backed by some Herbie Hancock noodling (I loved Bronson's "What's wrong with right here on the beach?" line and tried to fit similar lines into the rest of the movie--"What's wrong with right here in the taxi?" "What's wrong with right here in the bread aisle?" I've tried it in my personal life, too. "Jennifer, what's wrong with right here at the soccer game?" She doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about though.) Things really pick up once Jeff Goldblum shows up. He's so awesome and completely believable as a thug, just this raw physicality. He and his freaks--they're Freak 1, Freak 2, etc. in the credits--are such immature criminals. Of course, I'd probably wag my tongue at grocery store shoppers and throw turkeys around if I were a 1970's thug, too. And if attacking women (hypothetically, of course), I'd probably spend the majority of my time painting them instead of the traditional hooligan activities like raping and stealing stuff. I really like all the bad guys in this. Like a lot of 70's movies, they're all just so sleazy and obvious, the type of people who would likely be arrested just for looking the way they do. And only some of them are black! They're just all so jittery and cocky, throwing out mo-fos and spontaneously rhyming ("Throw us the money, honey!" The lesson I learned is that thuggery might not be the worst career choice if this teaching thing doesn't work out. No, maybe the lesson learned is that I could easily get over my wife's murder by shooting thugs, repainting my living room to cover up swastikas, and blasting game show music. No, hold up. The lesson is obviously that America needs to loosen up its gun laws because it's our second amendment right to have any kind of gun we want to and liberals have made it far too difficult for guys with mustaches to purchase firearms. Yeah, that's it. The pro-gun propaganda here did make my teeth hurt a little bit, but the random little person, the guy with an artist dog at the precinct, and a bum's hat error made up for it. This is an entertaining enough bit of 70's stink with about the right mix of grit and goof, but I never had any desire to see any of the numerous sequels and still don't. I imagine I'm missing more of the same but with a lot less Goldblum. Doesn't somebody kill his daughter in the second one? Maybe I did see that. What happens in the third one? Does somebody run over his dog or something?

Oprah Movie Club: Once Upon a Time in the West

1968 Western

Rating: 19/20

Plot: Some guy who might have a name travels the Wild West in search of some talented musicians to complete a band he wants to start--The Belt and Suspenders Blues Band. At the beginning of our story, he's got himself on lead harmonica, and all he needs to complete the band are a back-up harmonica, a gitfiddle, a drummer, a stand-up bass, a washboard, a bottle blower, a harpist, a bassoonist, a tromboner, another tromboner, an accordionist, a piano player, a lead singer, four mildly-attractive women for back-up singers, a beat-box, and another back-up harmonica player. Meanwhile, a guy who's usually a good guy but in this movie is a bad guy has been sent by a guy with his own train to scare a nerd with "the worst hair west of the Mississippi" and either does a really poor job or a really good job. Then, his wife--Boobsy McWhoresalot--shows up and starts distracting everybody. She realizes that her honeymoon is likely ruined and makes some coffee. A bunch of ugly guys are shot, and it all builds up to a thrilling climax when a dying man pats Boobsy on her sweet sweet behind.

"How can you trust a man who wears both a belt and suspenders?"

See, I didn't remember this movie had a character who wore both a belt and suspenders. There was a line in Billy Wilder's Ace in the Hole about belts and suspenders and a line in a novel that will remain unfinished because I'm too much of a dumbass to write a stinking chapter of it with a character who wears both. I might need a "belt and suspenders" blog label. Can you imagine Nicolas Cage playing a character who wore both a belt and suspenders? Pants would literally be shat!

Did everybody but me know that Dario Argento co-wrote this?

There's more goodness in the first fifteen minutes of this thing than most directors can dream of putting together in their entire careers. Bird taunting, whistling metal, a stutterer, veins on a dark hand, a ticket flying right into my living room. Under the direction of Leone, I'm pretty sure I could have watched these characters sit around and do absolutely nothing for two hours and forty minutes or so, all scenery and glorious sound effects. I'm not sure who's decision it was--Morricone's or Leone's--to not have music over the opening scene at the train station. If it was the composer's decision, this might be his best work. And that's saying a ton. This movie doesn't need to go anywhere. You've got a screen packed with details, and you just want to absorb it all. There are chunks of this movie where it's barely a moving picture. The pace is leisurely, and that allows us to just savor it. It's more a summertime movie pace, but it's the kind of pace I love, especially when there's so much to look at. Of course, contrast the overall pace to the blink-and-you-miss-it climactic gun fight.

I also love the character's dynamics and the often confusing relationships. They operate with these unwritten rules, this code that shows that Leone's version of the Wild West has this underlying structure. In fact, you almost wonder what samurai movie Leone lifted the story and its characters from. The characters, by the way, are just so complete. You don't need their back stories. All it takes a few moments on the screen and a few lines of dialogue and you just get them. Bronson ain't Eastwood, but everything he says is so cool. Fonda makes a great bad guy (love his sinner's smile), and Claudia Cardinale is so cute that I'll likely dream about patting her behind myself. Robards' Cheyenne is a complex and tragic figure. And they all get their own music! The periphery characters fill in the gaps. As Scott commented (premature commentation, by the way, but I'll allow it), Elam's "wandering eye" is a nice little detail, but really all of these characters' faces twitch or contort in ways that mine can't. I should know because I spent some time in front of the mirror trying to look tough after watching this movie. Leone's really put together a Who's-Who of Grizzled Guys. He sure loves his close-ups.

My favorite moment: Fonda searching Morton's train while the camera pans over a ground littered with dead bodies. When Fonda exits, it's almost enough to convince you that Leone was the greatest director ever. As I type this, I can think of about fifteen other favorite moments or shots in this.

This is a big movie, successful as a Western revenge epic or as an ode (or maybe an elegy) to the American West. Poetic and shockingly beautiful.

I should add that the way Charles Bronson holds that harmonica is perfect.

Death Rides a Horse

1967 Spaghetti Western

Rating: 17/20

Plot: Oh, snap! Young Bill watches a gang of Wild West thugs kill off his ma, his pa, and his sister. Bill's spared, becomes a sharpshooter, and looks for revenge, a dish which is adequately served tepid. Meanwhile, Lee Van Cleef finishes an extended time in prison and is looking for the same people. They get in each other's way.

There's no shortage of these awesome Spaghetti Westerns. And Lee Van Cleef has no shortage of cool, especially when he gets to play a tough and complicated character like this guy. John Phillip Law can barely keep up. He's charming, probably plays his character too naive, and sells "tough cowboy" about as well as Alan Ladd. This has a nice assortment of bad guys, and I like how they all follow this samurai-like code despite being, you know, bad guys. And like a lot of Westerns made in Italy, this has plenty of left-field twists. And the Morricone? The main theme is so big that Quentin Tarantino didn't have to steal for Kill Bill; no, "Death Rides a Horse" pushed its way into the production and demanded to be a part of The Bride's tale of revenge. So powerful, something that really grabs at your arm hairs. Speaking of that Bill, this Bill's got more than a little in common with that Uma, enough so you get the feeling Tarantino drew some inspiration from this. This one's got a brutal beginning to set up a nice revenge tale, one with more quick zooms on these characters' gnarled faces than you're likely to see in your average kung-fu revenge flick. Definitely recommended for fans of the genre. My favorite scene: three notes played by the piano man.

I Spit on Your Grave

1978 feminist movie

Rating: 6/20

Plot: A writer retreats to the woods to work on a novel but is repeatedly assaulted and abused by four thugs. After they rape and humiliate her, three-fourths of them think she's been left for dead. Unfortunately for them, she's still alive. And pissed!

Trashy. There's a thin line, and the prolonged scenes of rapin' and killin' in this throw it firmly in the trashy category. The lack of budget isn't really a problem; as a matter of fact, if anything, it adds to the tension. So does the complete lack of music, though I suspect that it's because the makers of this couldn't afford any music or just forgot that movies are supposed to have music. This is a movie in two halves. The degradation of the protagonist goes on and on in the first half. Her story of revenge takes up the second, and the reason it didn't work for me is likely because the violence seems so unrealistic compared to what happened to her in that first half. I bet you a dollar, by the way, that I don't ever see the remake of this one.

Rubber

2010 killer tire movie

Rating: 14/20

Plot: An abandoned automobile tire rolls around the desert and uses its telepathic powers to destroy any trash, bunnies, or people who get in its way. A crowd of people is given binoculars to watch the proceedings.

Like Christine or Maximum Overdrive or Duel but with only a tire. Or like your typical 50's monster movie except instead of a guy in a rubber suit causing mayhem, you just get the rubber. From a technical standpoint, I enjoyed trying to figure out how the tire was brought to life. It may be a much easier special effect than I think it is, and it certainly wasn't a special effect you'd describe as flashy. Most of this movie is the tire rolling around, only stopping to quiver and make a loud noise and make something explode, or people sitting around watching the tire, a meta-cular cinematic joke that's the sort of thing Soderbergh might put together in his spare time between Oceans 19 and Oceans 20. We're told at the beginning that this film is an "homage to the most powerful element of style" in movies--a lack of reason. It frequently falls into annoying cutesy-clever territories, turning into the kind of indie production that you want to take out back and slap around a bit. But was I entertained? Heck, yeah! It's a tire rolling around making bunnies explode! How could I not be entertained? Funniest bit involves a cop taking a tire off a car and saying, "This is what our killer looks like." No, the funniest bit is probably where they set a trap with an explosive dummy. I also can appreciate any movie that has a scene implying that a tire has jerked off while watching an exercise video. I'll give director Quentin Dupieux credit for seeing this ridiculous idea to its end, but his message about movies comes across like a film school student trying to impress his professor who rambles on and on about arthouse cinema every class.

I'll probably lose any chance at a Father of the Year Award for admitting this, but I was watching this with a couple of my children until the moment when heads started exploding and I told them to go upstairs. They didn't enjoy the bunny explosions at all and were probably disappointed that their father laughed at it.