Showing posts with label Robert De Niro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert De Niro. Show all posts

Monday, August 1, 2016

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #145 – The Good Shepherd (2006, dir. Robert DeNiro)

 Many people know that Robert De Niro has earned the reputation as one of the greatest actors of his generation, but fewer realize that he has also directed two films, both worth watching. De Niro’s 1993 directorial debut, A Bronx Tale, tells the story of a father competing with a local gangster for his son’s loyalty and fits easily into De Niro’s career, which includes many nuanced depictions of criminals. De Niro’s sophomore effort in 2006, however, does not line up as neatly with his body of work. The Good Shepherd provides a history of the Central Intelligence Agency and a reflection on how the CIA’s operations have often run against democratic principles and this nation’s core values. With The Good Shepherd, De Niro demonstrates what he has learned from the great filmmakers who have directed him, supplies Matt Damon with a pivotal and challenging lead role, and incorporates a fantastic ensemble of actors to shed light on this country’s most powerful and mysterious institution. 

De Niro structures this intricate saga by intercutting a day-by-day account of the week in 1961 that followed the C.I.A.’s greatest failure, The Bay of Pigs Invasion, with flashbacks to crucial moments in the life of Edward Wilson, the agency’s founding director of counterintelligence. On balance, The Good Shepherd feels more reminiscent of Francis Ford Coppola’s work than that of Martin Scorsese with its decade-spanning scope, patient character building, and evocative art direction. Elements of The Godfather and The Conversation float through the film, but its portrayal of Edward Wilson and his primary Soviet adversary (code named Ulysses) recalls Al Pacino and Robert De Niro’s relationship in Michael Mann’s Heat. Despite these influences, De Niro maintains a singular verve and a trenchant sense of humor throughout the nearly three hour running time. As Edward Wilson, Damon broadens his range significantly by investing a complicated, highly internalized, and subtle power in his performance as a man who has learned the grievous consequences of knowing too much and losing the trust of the intelligence community. While Wilson works ceaselessly to solve the puzzle of the agency’s defeat in Cuba, he negotiates a series of antagonistic relationships that define his life’s work. Lee Pace delivers an easy, well-mannered malice as Wilson’s Yale classmate and agency rival. Oleg Stefan conveys a worldly, respectful, and ominous presence as Wilson’s formidable opponent, Ulysses. A delightfully worn-in Alec Baldwin imparts a crass humanity as Wilson’s contact in the FBI. Michael Gambon, William Hurt, John Turturro, Billy Crudup, Joe Pesci, and Martina Gedeck round out the cast of Wilson’s professional associations. Angelina Jolie, Eddie Redmayne, Tammy Blanchard, and Timothy Hutton contribute notable dimension to the film as Wilson’s family and loved ones. De Niro tops off this ensemble by casting himself as the general who oversees the CIA’s creation while confessing to Wilson, “I see this as America’s eyes and ears; I don’t want it to become its heart and soul.”

Throughout The Good Shepherd runs an indictment of the prejudices of the English and U.S. American elite that shaped the global politics of the 20th century. De Niro levels an especially blunt critique against the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, Ivy League educated U.S. American aristocracy who attempted to shape the world in their image. The film’s release coincided aptly with the final stretch of the second presidential term of Yale alumnus George W. Bush, during which his administration plummeted in popularity amid rampant reports of CIA overreach and the widespread implementation of torture in the War on Terror.

-         John Parsell

Monday, December 9, 2013

I'd Love to Turn You On At the Movies #79 - Angel Heart (1987, dir. Alan Parker)


In many ways Angel Heart is two different movies. On the one hand it is homage to the 1940’s noir detective genre. In this one Mickey Rourke, at the top of his game, plays the “Sam Spade” role to great effect. On the other hand, it is a supernatural thriller that brings occult, voodoo and the devil himself (in the very coiffed person of Robert De Niro) into play. Angel Heart skirts these two worlds, satisfying the needs of both.

The year is 1955, and World War II is more than just a memory. It still is the event that that splits the century. Things happened before, during or after the war, and Rourke’s Harry Angel is haunted by his time there. We don’t know what happened, but something happened to Angel right as he returned from the war. Now he is back in New York running his low-rent detective agency fairly unsuccessfully when he is visited by a strange lawyer who represents an even stranger man (De Niro) named Louis Cyphre (Lucifer - get it?) who has a special job for Angel that will take him from the streets of Harlem to the swamps and back alleys of New Orleans searching for a singer named Johnny Favourite, who “owes” Mr. Cyphre something and now can’t be found. Harry Angel is given money and the task of finding out what happened to the wayward singer.
The movie moves forward with Angel searching for clues while the world around him gets stranger and stranger. As the facts unfold, it is clear Mr. Favourite’s story was not typical. He returned from the war a shell of a man and was placed in an institution. Removed from the institution by a doctor for mysterious reasons, the trail leads to New Orleans where it runs into a supernatural brick wall. Angel becomes embroiled in a subculture of voodoo and arcane religious practices involving ritual and ultimately sacrifice. He also comes into contact with Lisa Bonet in her first post-Cosby role. Bonet’s character is pivotal and memorable as the stunning 19 year old essentially never appears fully clothed. She is unbelievably sexy and at the same time frightening. She appears like a wild animal: untamed, erotic and dangerous.

Like everyone Harry Angel comes in contact with, Bonet’s character (Epiphany Proudfoot) ends up horribly and undeniably dead. It seems as though this job is more than just a search for a missing person, it is Harry Angel’s personal trip to hell. The twists, turns and shocks come fast and furious in the last part of the movie, and to give any of it away would ruin the fun, but rest assured, the getting there is the real fun of Angel Heart. Director Alan Parker has created a feast for the senses. The movie looks and feels unlike anything I have ever seen. Without explicitly showing details, Parker creates a mysterious sense of dread that is hard to describe. The city of New Orleans becomes a character itself, wet, steaming and fertile with danger. The few scenes with De Niro are unforgettable as he exudes a quiet, powerful evil that is very unlike any role he has played. He memorably uses his long fingernails to peel a hardboiled egg and then eats it with such an air of menace, that one must applaud the director’s sense of restraint and pacing. Throughout the movie, Parker takes commonplace items - fans, elevators, chickens, phones etc. - and imbues them with an indefinable quality of the macabre: the audience looking over its shoulder, stomach in knots and unsure of anything it is seeing. Ultimately, this is the great accomplishment of Angel Heart: to rip away the veil that separates the natural world from the unexplained leaving its characters shivering in the glare of confusion and doubt along with the audience.
            - Paul Epstein




Monday, June 25, 2012

I'd Love To Turn You On At The Movies #42 - The King of Comedy (1983, dir. Martin Scorsese)




All the movies Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro made together seem to fit into two categories: gangster films (Mean Streets, Goodfellas or Casino) and bleak movies about ultraviolent anti-heroes (Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and Cape Fear). Good as these films were – and some are among the best ever made – they give the impression that there was a limit to what the two could do together. But then there’s The King of Comedy, a weird little early eighties film that shows the breadth of talent and skill these artists possessed.
It’s the story of a wannabe comedian named Rupert Pupkin (played by De Niro) who’s desperate to land a spot on The Jerry Langford Show, a late-night variety program along the lines of The Tonight Show, with Jerry Lewis as the Johnny Carson-like host. Unlike many of the characters De Niro has played in Scorsese films, Pupkin is kind of a putz. He has a silly mustache, combs his hair over to one side and wears dorky sports coats and slacks. And he lives with his mom. In one classic scene, he turns on a tape recorder in his room and pretends he’s being interviewed by Langford, only to be interrupted by her shouting at him from the living room. “Mom!” Pupkin shouts back in a teenager-worthy whine that sounds incredibly funny and a little bit creepy coming from a 34-year-old man. As a comedian, Pupkin is a walking flop; he uses canned lines everyday on strangers, and they all induce groans. Yet Pupkin quickly reveals himself to be a menacing character, and after a series of very, very uncomfortable run-ins with Langford, he and another insane fan named Masha (played brilliantly by Sandra Bernhard) kidnap the TV star and hold him until Pupkin is offered an appearance on the show.
The King of Comedy is also a cinematic departure from other Scorsese works; it lacks the aggressive camera work and editing of his classics. Still, I rate it among his best, mostly because it’s a masterpiece of dramatic tension. From the beginning scene, when Pupkin muscles his way into Langford’s limo and begs for a chance to be on his show, this movie seethes with tension right through to the end. Part of this is due to the outrageousness of the kidnap plot, but it owes more to the acting and the subtlety of the script. In that early scene where Pupkin and Langford are in a limo together, for example, face to face for the first time, their motivations are so clear – Langford’s to be left alone, Pupkin’s to be accepted – that the clash between them is vivid and stark. Yet the scene keeps going beyond probability because the Langford character is just enough of a mensch to not kick Pupkin out of the car, and Pupkin is just enough of a psycho to not pick up on Langford’s vibe and just sane enough to appeal to Langford’s inner mensch. It’s a complex social interaction, but De Niro and Lewis make it look easy and natural. It takes a lot of skill to pull off that kind of scene. I also rank it high on my list of top Scorsese films because it’s wickedly smart and funny. Smart because he’s basically giving us a crime thriller in a comedy’s clothing. And it’s very funny, though darkly and ironically so. Some of the funniest lines and scenes are funny precisely because Pupkin is not funny. His jokes bomb hilariously, and some of the wittiest zingers are aimed at Pupkin’s lame humor. So it’s kind of a meta-film: a dark thriller about comedians that’s as hilarious and scary as can be.
- Joe Miller