I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #236 - In the Heat of the Night (1967, dir. Norman Jewison)

            I grew up watching the In the Heat of the Night television series all through the ‘80s with my parents. As police procedurals go, there wasn’t anything that particularly stood out about it (I’ve seen every episode multiple times and I couldn’t tell you the plot to any of them) other than it starred the genius Carroll O’Connor who we already knew and loved from playing Archie Bunker for all those years, so we just, as a family, liked it a lot. It would be years before I learned not only that there was a film version produced two decades earlier, but that said film version was, oh I dunno, a hundred million trillion times better than the show.

            For one thing the film, directed by Norman Jewison, is not just an effective whodunit, but it also acts as a lesson in civility. It was released in 1967, a time when the Civil Rights Movement was largely just starting to take shape with regards to actual effective legislation. Some sections of the United States, many in the South, were still rife with racial tension and uneasiness from all citizens. For Jewison, a Canadian, to come along and, in a way, hold a mirror up to those areas by portraying the small Mississippi town of Sparta as a cold, intolerant place was kind of a badass move. Sidney Poitier plays the well-read Philadelphia homicide detective Virgil Tibbs who, while visiting his mother in Sparta, is picked up by a small-time deputy (Warren Oates) as a suspect in the murder of a prominent industrialist. He isn’t doing anything suspicious mind you - other than being black - but again, this is the ‘60s in the deep South so that’s enough. He is taken back to the police headquarters where he meets the other officers and the surly chief of police, Bill Gillespie (Rod Steiger) who is only too eager to assume Tibbs’ guilt as well. Once Tibbs’s alibi is cleared up by his own superior officer, he is asked to assist the Sparta department in their murder investigation; a request he reluctantly agrees to. This is essentially the plot to the pilot episode of the series as well, as they are both based on a novel by John Ball. But that’s really where the similarities end. After the pilot, the series just becomes another yawner prime-time buddy cop drama. The film, a much darker affair, really showcases those racial tensions between the two lead characters, and thus, again, given the time period during which it was released, showcasing the racial tensions in the country at the time. While there is a mutual respect that builds between the two men over the course of the film, they are still not going to be friends. We, the viewers, don’t get the impression at the end that these two are going to even keep in touch, much less continue working together.

            I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the acting in In the Heat of the Night, which is also top notch. It presents a cast made up of both seasoned veterans and relative newcomers alike. Poitier breathes an ambitious and determined fire into his portrayal of Ball’s Tibbs character, prompting two lesser known but still kind of charming sequels. In some ways, we can see why Gillespie doesn’t like Tibbs. He is arrogant and stubborn, something Gillespie calls him out on almost immediately. Tibbs is supposedly a genius homicide detective, yet he is at first unwilling to help on a case he knows that he can solve. Gillespie only responds with racist remarks because it’s the only defense he knows. And can we just talk about Rod Steiger for a second? Holy shit, that guy, right? It takes a lot for me to prefer an actor over my beloved Carroll O’Connor, but Steiger’s Chief Gillespie is truly one of the greatest characters in film history, something his Best Actor Oscar that he received for it supports. He’s got such a seemingly despicable disposition at the beginning of the film, yet we still kind of root for him because we can tell that, deep down, he is a good law man, a fact that Tibbs also begrudgingly recognizes. By the end of the film, we witness a very real change in him as he becomes more empathetic and more tolerant.

Given that the country continues to struggle with issues of bigotry and racism, especially involving law enforcement, In the Heat of the Night remains an important film with an important message that still resonates in America today. Though some of the ways in which it delivers this message can be a bit dated and gratuitous, it’s still a message that bears repeating.

          
  - Jonathan Eagle

I'd Love to Turn You On #244 - Ghostface Killah – Supreme Clientele (2000)

            Lately I’ve been getting caught up in the Hulu show Wu-Tang: An American Saga. Even though it’s kind of a shitty show, it’s reminded me that revisiting my love of the Wu-Tang Clan is something I need to do occasionally. I’m certain I’m not alone in my assessment that when the Wu-Tang Clan came to prominence, they were a cut above the rest in terms of the hip-hop of the ‘90s. They quickly became one of my favorites and it didn’t take long for me to start tracking down every solo album by every solo rapper even tangentially related to the Wu.

            Among the masterpieces to grace the world at the turn of the new millennium was Supreme Clientele, the second solo record by the inimitable Ghostface Killah. Released at a time when most Wu-Tang members had either already ventured off onto their own solo paths or were about to, de facto leader RZA could not oversee production on all of them, and it often showed. He did, however, opt to man the boards (and contribute some rhymes) for Supreme Clientele, enlisting the help of a small team of other RZA disciples. Incorporating the sexiest of obscure R&B samples (the cover photo of Ghost crooning into a retro microphone makes it even look like it could be a 1970s Jerry Butler record or something) into the sleaziest of beats and loops, to produce a result that is pure Staten Island sound: pure Wu-Tang. Ghost’s lyrics provide vivid narrative structures emboldened by deep personal introspection while laced with abstract, ostensibly nonsensical poetic liberties. Many of the lyrics on Supreme Clientele were written while Ghost was on a several month-long trip to Africa, incorporating much of his experience with the culture there (and his subsequent disdain for American consumerism) into his words. And the flow doesn’t stop with just Ghost. In fact, not only is he joined by RZA but other fellow Wu members Cappadonna, GZA, Masta Killa and Raekwon pop in and out to take a verse or two, making it just about as close to Wu-Tang-Proper as it gets.

            The thing about Supreme Clientele is that it’s quite notoriously one of the most-loved, if not the most-loved of the non-Wu-Tang Wu-Tang projects. At least one of the highest charting ones, if I’m not mistaken. And deservedly so. It’s not only a step up creatively from its predecessor, Ghost’s powerful debut Ironman (which is also great), but production-wise too. Supreme Clientele is stamped front to back with that unmistakable RZA sound which, by 2000, just wasn’t as ubiquitous as it once was. In the 19 years since this record came out, the world of hip-hop has only gotten more incredible and complex and the landscape is constantly changing. There are countless talented emcees and DJs out there and with Soundcloud and Bandcamp and the like, it’s easier than ever for some of the lesser-known talented acts to be heard. Even Ghostface himself has gone on to release material that far surpasses that of Supreme Clientele. In fact, 2006’s Fishscale is high in the running for best hip-hop record ever, in my opinion. But this… this is the one. This is, I think, the reference point that people will point to when talking about solo Wu-Tang albums. When this record came out, I could not get enough of it. And now, listening back to it as much as I did in preparation to write this, it still sounds as fresh and exciting as it did when I first bought it.

            Honestly, I wouldn’t ordinarily choose to write about a record that’s already received as much critical and commercial praise as Supreme Clientele has received. I mean, theoretically it’s already had so much smoke blown up its ass over the years that I couldn’t possibly have anything to add that would be useful. And anyway, the point of these reviews is to “turn you on” to something you may have otherwise missed. It’s just that I truly believe that this record still needs to be talked about because it’s a god damn masterpiece. Whether you’re new school or old school, there’s something on Supreme Clientele for every hip-hop fan.

            - Jonathan Eagle

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #226 - Suicide Kings (1997, dir. Peter O'Fallon)

           The 1990s were a time in cinema when Quentin Tarantino-clone directors ran rampant, particularly clogging up the box office in the late ‘90s on the heels of QT’s Pulp Fiction. It seemed like everyone, with varying degrees of success, made a crime comedy with witty banter spoken between criminals and overly glorified gun violence. Speaking as a fan of the man’s work, this isn’t necessarily a complaint. While there were a significant amount of these copycat films that missed the mark, many of them were excellent and continued to develop this type of cinematic storytelling style initially forged by Tarantino.

            In 1997, longtime television director Peter O’Fallon (Party of Five, thirtysomething, etc.) threw his hat in the ring as a feature filmmaker. The result, Suicide Kings, is a strong debut and an enjoyable action-comedy that works on many levels. To hear Metacritic or Rotten Tomatoes tell it, I’m a complete moron who wouldn’t know Citizen Kane from Citizen Ruth, but hear me out here, because I really think that if you like these types of films this one might tickle your fancy.

For one thing, it’s got a phenomenal ensemble cast made up of both established stars and talented young actors who would later become stars. The always amazing Christopher Walken plays retired mob boss Carlo Bartolucci (or Charlie Barrett, as he is now known) who wanders into his regular restaurant and becomes the unlikely victim of a kidnapping by spoiled, rich prep school post-grads Max (Sean Patrick-Flannery), Avery (Henry Thomas) and Brett (Jay Mohr). Charlie is chloroformed and taken to a private mansion where he is duct taped to a chair and held captive. When he comes to, the men, joined by another friend T.K. (Jeremy Sisto), explain to him that Avery’s sister (and Max’s fiancé) Elise (Laura Harris) has been kidnapped and her captors have demanded a $2 million ransom. To show their degree of seriousness, her captors have apparently cut off one of Elise’s fingers. Upon hearing this, Charlie realizes that these men have done the same to him, promising to mirror his condition with Elise’s.

The men go on to explain that even though they don’t suspect Charlie being involved, they do plan to exploit Charlie’s connections and ask him to put up the ransom money. After much resistance, Charlie finally agrees to help them and begins making phone calls. Further adding to the complications of the boys’ plan is the arrival of another of their classmates, Ira (Johnny Galecki), whose father owns the house. Ira is a hilariously neurotic and whiny extrovert who is terrified of what his vacationing father will do if he finds out they’ve been in the house at all, much less with a gangster held hostage and bleeding on the floor. So he spends much of the time nitpicking his friends’ behavior, kissing up to Charlie (so he’ll “go easy on him”), and cleaning up his friends’ messes. While captive, Charlie gets to know each of his captors, eventually pitting them against one another when he learns that the kidnapping may have an “inside player” involved. Meanwhile, Charlie gets in touch with his right-hand man Lono, played by ‘90s outlaw comic Denis Leary, who spends his time roughing up wiseguys and ranting a mile a minute to his partner Mickey (Louis Lombardi) about footwear, golf equipment and his nagging wife. Fans of Leary will no doubt be delighted to learn that he improvised many of his lines during these scenes.

            The plot, though simple, goes through many twists and turns that I don’t want to spoil here so you’ll just have to watch it to see to where it meanders. The dialogue is sharp and fast-paced, adding to the Tarantino-esque style. Walken, as usual, is able to practically carry the entire film with his menacing presence, even though in this movie he is essentially incapacitated the whole time. This film is filled with all the things you want in a comedic crime film. It’s one of those buddy films that is instantly quotable, filled with maybe a bit too much male bravado, but never failing to keep the viewer entertained.

-         Jonathan Eagle

I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #222 - Last Man Standing (1996, dir. Walter Hill)

            I went to film school because I really love film. That may seem like an obvious statement, but you might be surprised at the number of my fellow film school classmates that didn’t seem to know much or even particularly like many movies. There’s nothing more beautiful to me than a compelling story told through the lens of a gifted director with artful cinematography. It’s one of life’s truly greatest gifts. That being said, not everything has to be artful. Not everything has to be thought-provoking. Not everything has to even be tasteful. Sure, I love Fellini and Jodorowsky and Orson Welles but you know what? I also love Hot Tub Time Machine. I also love fucking Crocodile Dundee. I watched a new Adam Sandler movie LAST WEEK and had a blast with it. Sometimes I just need something completely mindless and entertaining for its own sake. And nothing can scratch that itch faster for me than a gratuitously violent action film. So today, I’m going to talk about Walter Hill’s 1996 gangster-noir-western Last Man Standing.

            This delightful little gun-fest is set in Prohibition-era Texas. The script is loosely based on the Akira Kurosawa samurai classic Yojimbo. If you’ve seen Kurosawa’s original, it’s easy to pick out some of the outline points but this film is, in true Walter Hill fashion, uniquely its own beast. Bruce Willis stars in the “man with no name” role as a fugitive who wanders into the small dirtball town of Jericho to find that two rival bootlegging gangs (one Irish, one Italian) have each set up their own operations in town. The gangs have an unspoken truce in place when Willis’ character, calling himself “John Smith,” arrives. Smith, seeing an opportunity for profit, immediately starts stirring up shit between the two gangs, offering himself up as a gun-for-hire to the highest bidder. After proving himself worthy by taking out a lieutenant from the Irish gang, he is quickly hired by the Italian gang, led by NYC mob boss Fredo Strozzi (Ned Eisenberg). After working for the Italians just long enough to learn their secrets, Smith then defects to the Irish gang, led by the cartoonish Mr. Doyle (David Patrick Kelly). Pitting the two gangs against each other and forcing a gang war, Smith continues to betray the trust of each of his former employers until everyone wants him dead. Except it's Bruce Willis, and the film is called Last Man Standing, so guess what….

            At the heart of it, it would seem like any other Bruce Willis action film. But hear me out here, because there is far more to this film, and in particular Bruce Willis’ Smith character, than meets the eye. Smith is not like other Bruce Willis action hero characters, like your Hudson Hawks and your John McClains. Smith is not a hero. He is not even a good guy. In fact, he might be the worst guy in Jericho which seems to be, with the exception of a spineless and corrupt sheriff (Bruce Dern), a mild-mannered innkeeper (William Sanderson) and a perpetually-grinning undertaker, a town made up entirely of criminals. Smith waltzes into town armed with two handguns and zero plans, and over a matter of days takes out hundreds of criminal gang members, never once missing and never taking a bullet himself. Smith is the main character and has the least amount of dialogue, barely saying ten words throughout the entire film (except when narrating). This monosyllabism adds to the sociopathy of his character, who seemingly enjoys just toying with these gang members just for the sake of it. Well, the sake of it and the money of it. The only time he shows any sign of a conscience is when he uses the money he’s made off the chaos between the gangs to pay the mistresses of both gang bosses so they can get out of town and start new lives. But even then he doesn’t show any romantic interest in either of them, and admittedly leaves Jericho with less money than he came in with. So perhaps he really did just disrupt everyone’s businesses and lives simply because he knew he could, which makes this character far more fascinating than just an average macho gunslinger. Less a dick-measuring contest and more a lesson in psychology. Also, you get to see Chris Walken play one of the most terrifying characters of his career, so that’s a plus.

            Anyway, if you judge this film based on most of the reviews online or its reception at the box office, then you’re really not giving it the credit it deserves. It’s an extremely underrated gem from a director who himself doesn’t get the credit he deserves. Whether you agree with that or not, at the very least watch it for the rad gunfights.

-         Jonathan Eagle