State of Grace (1990, Phil Joanou)

In its relatively short life as a mid-major, Orion Pictures took home an impressive number of prestigious nominations and awards, including four Best Picture wins.  Today, the studio is most remembered for those successes and for its highly-publicized bankruptcy and eventual dissolution, which coincided with the back-to-back triumphs of Dances with Wolves and The Silence of the Lambs. When I think of Orion, however, it's not really for its most acclaimed titles, it's for its remarkably consistent run of intelligent and adventurous mid-budgeted pictures from the late '70s (when it was partnered with Warner Bros.) through the early '90s.

So many of my favorite films of the '70s-'80s begin with this memorable logo.

Phil Joanou's State of Grace comes at the end of this era and is, in fact, one of those highly unprofitable pictures that led to its parent company's demise.  A mob picture in a year full of high profile examples of the genre--Goodfellas, Godfather: Part III, Miller's Crossing--State of Grace was quickly in and out of theaters and out of the public consciousness.  I caught it a few years later on VHS, as a teenager, when I was making my way through the Sean Penn filmography (the film has the distinction of being Penn's final movie before his first retirement from acting) and then, again, a few years after that when a good friend of mine really sold me on its virtues. After this second introduction to the film, it became a favorite of mine due to its impressive cast and magnetic performances, very quotable dialogue, haunting Morricone score, and its pervasive gloominess and lack of sentimentality.  The latter qualities struck me as out-of-fashion then and, as Joanou notes on the fascinating commentary track on Twilight Time's new Blu-ray, time has only accentuated them.

Ed Harris as Frankie Flannery.  His performance might get lost behind those of Penn, Oldman, and Wright, but it shouldn't...this is his one of his best.

Jackie (Gary Oldman) in a rare contemplative moment at the bar, where he is most at home.

The kind of mid-budget drama that has very rarely been made by the studios post-'90s, a loss that Joanou laments on the aforementioned track, State of Grace is also an homage to the gritty 1970s cinema that so inspired Penn and Joanou.  To the film's credit, this was several years prior to the '70s revival when these sorts of tributes became de rigueur and stale.  Finally, as also discussed by Joanou and commentary moderator Nick Redman, in the 25 years since the film's initial release, New York City has become a drastically different place than when the film was shot there in 1989; like so many other films, the passage of time has made State of Grace an invaluable document of the place and time in which it was created.

Ed Harris and R.D. Call mean business.

Made just a few years before citywide clean-up and redevelopment efforts would really take shape, the film shows the city, midtown and downtown Manhattan in particular, when large swaths of it remained as they were in the "Wild West"-like 70s, some combination of unsafe, dirty, decrepit, underpopulated, and cheap...ripe conditions for a gang like the Westies to prosper. Much of the screenplay by playwright Dennis McIntyre and an uncredited David Rabe is inspired by the Irish gang's exploits in '70s and '80s Hells Kitchen; not so ironically it was federal prosecutor Rudolph Giuliani who would take down the Westie leadership of this era and later, as mayor, spearhead the gentrification and Disneyfication of their former territory.

I always thought that Sean Penn resembled Westie Jimmy Coonan in this mugshot of the gangster.

McIntyre and Rabe's major creation is Penn's Terry Noonan, a native of the Kitchen who has mysteriously returned to his old haunts after many years away, and reconnected with his best friend Jackie Flannery (Gary Oldman), Jackie's sister and Terry's childhood girlfriend Kate (Robin Wright), and their brother and boss of the gang, Frankie (Ed Harris).  Noonan's reunion with the Flannerys coincides with Frankie's efforts to align his gang with Italian mobster Borelli (the one-of-a-kind Joe Viterelli playing a character possibly based on Gambino boss Paul Castellano).  As the crazed Jackie, Oldman delivers an electrifying, scenery-chewing performance that ensures that the picture never really lacks energy; Penn has done that kind of thing before, but here he is the straight man, letting his face and body language communicate his character's inner torment.  And, the chemistry between he and his future wife Wright is palpable and she matches the heavyweights around her...it had to be something of a revelation in 1990 when her only previous exposure had been on Santa Barbara and as Princess Buttercup.  I don't know if Harris has ever been scarier than he is here, thoroughly convincing when playing the authoritative boss of his gang and humorously child-like when in the presence of Viterelli.

"You're cold, Kate." - Terry Noonan

The supporting cast includes a young John C. Reilly (cast on Penn's recommendation, following their work together in De Palma's Casualties of War), the ice cold R.D. Call (another frequent Penn collaborator--At Close Range, Colors, and several others), John Turturro, an uncredited James Russo, Marco St. John, Thomas G. Waites, and the great Burgess Meredith in one of his final roles (he has a brief, but heartbreaking scene, the casting of which Joanou beautifully recalls on the commentary track).  The movie, like so many other well-known gangster films is a modern Greek tragedy, and on this most recent viewing, I found it as powerful and mournful--with some darkly humorous moments sprinkled in the earlier parts of the film--as I always have; I did feel this time around, though, that it could have been trimmed a bit. That minor criticism aside, I maintain that the film is one of the most underrated films of the '90s and undeservedly unsung gangster films of any era.

"Scary Terry" Noonan.

With the aforementioned Morricone, Rabe, and cast, as well as cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth, editor Claire Simpson, and production designer Patrizia von Brandenstein, the young Joanou truly had a Murderer's Row of creative collaborators on this show and, unsurprisingly, it is a handsome production in all aspects.  This is to say that the new Twilight Time Blu-ray is a very worthwhile upgrade from the old DVD, with the HD presentation more faithfully representing Cronenweth's intricate lighting, von Brandenstein's carefully designed sets and, of course, the "dirty old New York" practical locations.  We also get a booklet with Julie Kirgo essay and Morricone's memorable (and also underrated) score on an isolated track. Morricone wrote more music for the film than appears in the final cut; I'm not sure if the isolated track includes all of this, so I will hang onto my long out-of-print CD.

The much-lauded playwright David Rabe, some years prior to State of Grace.  Sean Penn would later star in the film version of Rabe's Hurlyburly.  The 16mm print of State of Grace that I ran in college one St. Patrick's Day had a very prominent "special thanks" credit for Rabe at the top of the end credit role that I've never seen on any other version of the film.

Finally, to get back to where I started here, with Orion Pictures, it should be noted that State of Grace represents the final film in a long-running and very fruitful relationship that Sean Penn had with the studio, a relationship that led to The Falcon and the Snowman, At Close Range (coming soon from Twilight Time!), and Colors. Quite an exemplary grouping, I think.

Penn and Joanou on set.

"It Was Bound to Happen"

Seems the marketing folks at the 8th Street Playhouse got a little creative for this second-run engagement of Bad Boys.  I'm sure it helped get in some more of the desired audience, but a number of them surely left disappointed.

"Where Did the Graduates of Ridgemont Go Next?"

Another one from the pre-digital vaults...

From my Vimeo description:

I wrote, edited, and performed the corny voiceover for this magazine piece, as part of one of my high school tv production courses.  The manager of a local video store let me come into the store with a garbage bag, which I proceeded to fill up with tapes to use as source clips in this video.  He only insisted that I give him a copy when it was finished.  

The video limitations are due to generational loss, as the well as the effects of copy protection, and the fact that everything is sourced from VHS.  Again, this was edited analog style, deck to deck, with 3/4" video.  No DVDS and no digital editing for several more years.

Scum / Bad Boys

I think anyone familiar with Alan Clarke's Scum who then watches Rick Rosenthal's Bad Boys will notice some striking similarities between the two films, in narrative, thematic, and visual terms.  To me, there are enough parallels that Rosenthal and Bad Boys screenwriter Richard Di Lello (author of The Longest Cocktail Party) probably should have given some direct acknowledgment to Clarke and writer Roy Minton's film (as well as the earlier Scum teleplay that proved to be too much for the BBC).   

Bad Boys is a pretty rough film, particularly for a mainstream American product intended largely for teen audiences.  Scum, however, makes its American cousin look like a preschool picnic and is a much stronger film for it.  Where Bad Boys injects a love story into its narrative, an inspiring, incessant Bill Conti score, a Rocky-like final fight, and a theme of redemption, Scum doesn't attempt any of these softening, conventional touches.

What the American film hints at or suggests, such as male-on-male rape, Scum pulls no punches with and rubs the viewer's nose in.  There are mostly sympathetic guards and administrators in the juvenile prison where Bad Boys star Sean Penn does time; the men who run the borstal in Scum range from cold and unfeeling to unrepentant sadists.

In Bad Boys, the prison is shown to be flawed, but the film still makes it a force which turns bad boy Penn into a better man.  The borstal in Scum is a brutal, inhumane place and the film offers no hope for those inside or for some kind of reform to the system.  A few years after Scum was released, the borstal system was abandoned in the U.K.  Whether the film influenced this in any way and how truthful the film is to the actual borstal experience, I'm not certain.

I illustrate some of the parallels and contrasts of the two films in this video essay.

EDIT: I just found out about a French-Canadian remake of Scum, entitled Dog Pound, via this most informative Scum Wiki page.

Trailer Not on the DVD: Racing With the Moon (1984, Richard Benjamin)

Apologies for the dodgy sound:

"I fire-bombed a bowling alley."

Did you see the cover for Lionsgate's upcoming Bad Boys Blu-ray? They've recycled and photo-shopped the familiar key art image of star Sean Penn from the original U.S. theatrical campaign. Fine. They've added a new title design, an image of Esai Morales and his gang, and black and white head shots of some of the major cast...Reni Santoni, Ally Sheedy, Esai Morales, Clancy Brown, Robert Lee Rush (Tweety), and Dean Fortunato (Perretti). Robert and Dean who? Shouldn't Jim Moody (Mr. Gene Daniels) and Eric Gurry (Barry Horowitz), who both play much bigger and pivotal roles than Rush and Fortunato, be on the cover before those two?


The Blu-ray will be arriving the first of February and is slated to hold the same extra features as previous DVD editions from Anchor Bay and Lionsgate--trailer and commentary from director Rick Rosenthal. I'm guessing we won't have the nifty mini-poster insert of the Style B campaign that came with the original Anchor Bay DVD:


Bad Boys cellmate Gurry, as he appeared with Brent Spiner in the original Broadway run of Table Settings:


Penn on set with someone who might be producer Robert H. Solo. It's not director Rosenthal. Penn, Solo, and screenwriter Richard Di Lello would later collaborate on Colors. That film would be relocated from Chicago to L.A. and re-written by Michael Schiffer:


Penn in a scene with Ally Sheedy that does not appear in the final film:


Penn in a still I had not seen before from the courtroom scene:


Penn and Morales reunited years later at an event in San Francisco:

"Yes, Mr. Daniels."

Now Playing: September 3, 1982

Can you imagine movies like Chan is Missing and Gregory's Girl enjoying their "4th Big Month" in August 2010?

I've posted from this set before, but I suppose based on some of the comments, I should offer a reprise:

"You're the new barn boss, O'Brien!"

"I don't have a red suit."

...Only the Rules Get Busted!

Why, oh why, isn't this back in print yet?

One of my greatest used bookstore finds ever was picking up the copy of Fast Times at Ridgemont High: A True Story that you see right here:

It was the very early '90s and I was a Fast Times-obsessed geek of 12 or 13 who had it made my mission to find the book upon which the movie was based. I went into many of the same used bookstores over and over again, as well as the local Waldenbooks and B. Dalton stores at the mall, in a vain search. So, I couldn't believe it when, for the umpteenth time, I went into my favorite bookstore then and now, Montclair Book Center, asked if they had Fast Times, and was told, "Why, yes, we just happened to get a copy in and it's up front." Nowadays, I could just go online, visit eBay or ABE Book Search and plunk down $50+ for a copy without ever leaving my apartment. Back then, it cost me $8 plus tax. On top of that, I still have the priceless experience of going into a shop and finding something I'd spent a long time looking for. It's one of those "holy grail" experiences that, as a collector, whether it be of books, records, or movies, you lose when shopping over the internet.

My copy's in a little rougher shape than when I first bought it because a year or so after I got it, a girl I had something of a crush on, sweet talked me into letting her borrow it. She took my speech about its rarity only half seriously and the book came with the corners more bent than they were before and one section of the cover separated from the spine. Did I mention I was a little OCD about this stuff?

Years later, I found a tattered copy of the book in a used bookstore at the airport in Milwaukee of all places. It was faded and the spine was broken, but because of how hard it is to come by a copy, any copy, of Fast Times, I grabbed it. The book was in such poor shape that the clerk just gave it to me. I put it away and forgot about for years until my buddy Rupert told me how much he'd always wanted to read the book. "Well," I said, "if you don't mind a having a copy that's beat to hell, this one's yours." It arrived at Rupe's last night and, if I know him, he'll have his nosed buried in it once his baby daughter's put to sleep. Enjoy it, pal!

Son of De Niro

"Son of De Niro." Early in his career, a magazine laid that weight on Sean Penn. It was a moniker I'm sure he loathed, as much as he did admire Robert De Niro.

Penn backstage during the 1983 Broadway run of Slab Boys, which co-starred Kevin Bacon, Val Kilmer, and Jackie Earle Haley.

It was Penn who suggested to director Steven Zaillian that he look up his old Slab Boys co-star Jackie Earle Haley when the All the King's Men director was having trouble casting the role of Sugar Boy. Even though Haley hadn't acted in years and was completely off the Hollywood map, Penn recalled the actor's talents and had a hunch he still had what they were looking for. The rest is history, as they say, as Haley nailed the Sugar Boy part, picked up an Academy Award nomination for his heartbreaking work in Little Children, and is now, for better or for worse, Freddy Krueger.

Penn as Rupert Pupkin...I mean, Daulton Lee.

The real Andrew Daulton Lee who was paroled in 1998 and who was later employed as a personal assistant to Penn. Say what you will about Penn, but don't call him disloyal.

"I used to like her early stuff. Borderline."

I was reminded of the dearly-departed Eddie Bunker's great line at the beginning of Reservoir Dogs as "Borderline" came on my shuffle on the commute home tonight and I hit repeat 2 times. Bunker's sentiments nearly echo my feelings on one Madonna Louise Ciccone. For me, nothing really tops the "Jellybean" Benitez collaboration and "Borderline" is my personal favorite of that batch of singles. I hadn't actually watched this scene, which opens Reservoir Dogs, or the film itself in about 15 years. But, I got the Blu-ray super-cheap from Amazon a couple months back and was prompted to crack it open tonight to refresh my memory of the scene.

Aside from chuckling again at the irony of old Bunker, nearing 60 at the time, chiming in on Madonna, I got a big kick out of one of the lines that precedes it, spoken by the dearly-departed Chris Penn, forever to be remembered by the masses as "Sean Penn's little brother." But, the man was a fine actor in his own right, as anyone who sees him in Short Cuts, The Funeral, Reservoir Dogs, and any number of his other numerous roles can attest to. Even being a longtime fan of Sean Penn, I somehow never caught, or had forgotten, the in-joke that Tarantino fit into the scene for Chris Penn to play off. When Tim Roth's Mr. Orange reveals that he is unfamiliar with Madonna's "True Blue," Penn's Nice Guy Eddie replies incredulously, "Oh, you ain't heard "True Blue"? It was a big-ass hit for Madonna. I don't even follow that Top 10 pop shit, and even I've heard of "True Blue.""

I knew that this song was written and released in the middle of Sean and Madonna's tempestuous relationship and I figured this might have been one of the ones written "for Sean." Sure enough, upon checking that most trustworthy source, Wikipedia, my hunch was confirmed. Not only the song, but the entire album of the same name, was dedicated to Sean, "the coolest guy in the universe." Now, I'm wondering how Sean, not known for his sense of humor, felt about his brother poking a little fun, at his (then recent) ex-wife and the song characterized as an "unabashed valentine" to him.

Original paparrazzo Ron Galella snapped a thinner than thin Christopher Penn and his date (and Wild Life co-star) Sherilyn Fenn at a May 24, 1984 production of Nine.