Only now does it occur to me... CARLITO'S WAY (1993)

Only now does it occur to me... that CARLITO'S WAY is probably one of De Palma's best. It has all the ridiculous vintage spectacle of SCARFACE (i.e., a life of crime occasionally depicted as a sleazy Mentos commercial) alongside the endlessly creative visual storytelling that you've come to expect from De Palma,

but it also possesses some incredibly nuanced character development, particularly in the dynamic between Carlito (Al Pacino)
 
Pacino: pictured wearing a leather duster during a heat wave––something that likely soured Pacino on subway filming at least until he played Satan in THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE. According the the doc DE PALMA, he walked off set that night, mid-shoot!

and his scuzzy lawyer (Sean Penn, in one of his finest performances).

I'm not even joking about the caliber of Penn's work here––he's phenomenal.

Furthermore, there are brilliant supporting turns by underground NYC standby Rick Aviles,

pre-fame Viggo Mortensen (back when he was still a character actor),

a ubiquitously likable Luis Guzman, and a subtly chilling John Leguizamo.


But, as you can probably tell––being as this is an "Only now does it occur to me"––I'm about to dive into some minutiae. First, I'd like to call out a Dario Argento reference. De Palma is no stranger to giving a nod to his post-Hitchcock contemporary across the pond. Historically, DRESSED TO KILL is chock full of Argento references, and there's a pretty substantial TENEBRE homage in THE UNTOUCHABLES. Here, it's a little subtler. Pacino is stalking his ex-girlfriend Penelope Ann Miller and he follows her––in the rain––to a ballet academy.


Probably only the die-hards would read this as an abstract reference to SUSPIRIA, whose infamous opening scene involves a furtive (and voyeuristic) visit to a ballet academy in the pouring rain.

Finally, I wanted to salute the MVP of CARLITO'S WAY: Dancing Phone Call Woman. Allow me to explain.

At El Paraiso, Carlito's dance club (the name is a reference to the sandwich shop in SCARFACE), the revelers revel mostly in bottom-shelf cocaine and top-shelf disco.

De Palma is brilliant at staging group scenes with dozens of extras. Look no further than the "Relax" scene from BODY DOUBLE. Some directors don't direct their extras at all, some use an assistant director, and some assistant directors just tell the performers where to stand. De Palma is precise––incredibly so––and practically every single extra is doing something specific and visually interesting. There are no rooms of people randomly milling about, mumbling "peas and carrots, peas and carrots," wondering what the hell to do with their hands. This leads me to the all-star background artist of CARLITO'S WAY: Dancing Phone Call Woman. As De Palma's camera roams the room, in one corner, behind an open door, there is a woman on the phone. No, she is not merely on the phone––she is shaking a maraca while on the phone. And, no, she is not merely shaking a maraca while on the phone––she is dancing up a storm, twirling like Stevie Nicks, shaking a maraca, and beaming like a beauty contestant––all while making a phone call from a land line with a spiral-coil cord. 

I salute you, Twirling-Dancing-Maraca-Phone Call Woman. You are a special, irreplaceable thread in the tapestry that is CARLITO'S WAY. You are a goddamned champion.

Only now does it occur to me... THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE (1997)

Only now does it occur to me... that the 1997 supernatural courtroom thriller THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE is not merely a vehicle for Keanu Reeves to give voice to one of the worst Southern accents ever uttered,


nor is it simply a platform for Charlize Theron to allow her eyes to glaze over and pretend she's actually in ROSEMARY'S BABY,

nor is it merely a canvas for the best-worst pixelated hellscape that overtaxed '90s computer processors could provide,
 
More like THE GARDEN OF CGI-BLIGHTS, amirite? 

nor is it purely a delivery system for Al Pacino to scream hoo-ah (or something) while he transforms into a shirtless demon via a special effect that wouldn't have passed muster on ANGEL:





nor is it solely an offering of proof that Satan takes the subway:

no, though this amazingly dumb motion picture is indeed all of these things, there is still more. Like AMERICAN PSYCHO before it, THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE is also a repository of jarring Donald Trump references.

When minor villain and multiple-murdering billionaire Craig T. Nelson (essentially his character from ACTION JACKSON) appears on screen, his gaudy, gilded apartment seemed quite familiar to me:


At first I pegged it as a studio reproduction, but some quick research immediately confirmed that is indeed Donald Trump's apartment. People are saying, that when one comes to see any publicity is good publicity, one might loan out their personal quarters to a film where Satan himself reigns over a New York of moneyed minions,

and where the inhabitant of said gold-plated quarters is portrayed as an unrepentant psychopath who surrounds himself with legal counsel in place of a moral code. But one does not offer something for nothing: publicity begets publicity, and perhaps there was a synergy at play with regard to Trump crony Don King's cameo:

But screen-time for a friend fails to satisfy the ego, doesn't it? And so we enter a scene depicting a gathering of New York Republicans (though it's worth noting that Trump was a lapsed Republican and registered independent at the time––and would go on to register as a Democrat in 2001 before finally resettling with the Republicans in 2009),

Bizarrely, on the far right is then-sitting Republican Senator Al D'Amato, who seems shockingly on board with his cameo's implication that he's a Satanist.

where a gaggle of bon vivants speculate on the whereabouts of Donald Trump:

saying that he's probably tied up with a business emergency with Mort Zuckerman, owner of the New York Daily News and frequent Trump media foil.

We know that Trump has a history of insisting on cameo appearances in films where his properties are featured, so one can assume that he likely insisted upon this reference to himself. And it's also worth mentioning that it's not only a reference to his business acumen, but also a veiled attack on one of his enemies in the press.

Reading between the lines, people might even speculate on other elements that Trump may have insisted upon. For instance, it's unnecessarily clarified that Craig T. Nelson's character is a billionaire, not a mere multi-millionaire. Since we know that Trump's wealth may very well be the locus of his insecurities, it's not so hard to imagine that he would want audiences to know that only a true billionaire could possibly afford to live in his apartment. This brings me to a final question: if Trump projected his insecurities onto a character who lives in his apartment and wished to 'correct' that character to match his personal image, why didn't he interfere to make the character ultimately innocent of the crimes (or at least less of a blundering sociopath)? Or did that thought not even cross his mind?

Only now does it occur to me... SEA OF LOVE (1989)

Only now does it occur to me... that not only does SEA OF LOVE offer the trappings of a kinda-mediocre-but-fun sex thriller in the FATAL ATTRACTION/BASIC INSTINCT/SLIVER/BODY OF EVIDENCE vein, not only does it feature Al Pacino and John Goodman as hot-doggin' detectives,

who prefer to work outside the system––much to chagrin of their straight-laced boss, John Spencer (of course),

not only does it feature an extremely young and quippy Samuel L. Jackson,

Credited in the role of––no joke, unfortunately––"Black Guy"

not only does it contain an absurd GODFATHER reference alluding to the restaurant cop-killing of Sterling Hayden,

 

Pacino: "What is she gonna do, confess? Shoot me? We're in a restaurant!!"

not only do Pacino and Ellen Barkin offer the most hilarious, post-9 1/2 WEEKS, food-related seduction scene this side of TROLL 2:

 

He was lookin' for Chips Ahoy 

 

She was lookin' for fresh produce, but then she found...

No, not love––she found...

Yellow bell peppers

Oh yes she did

No, we shouldn't, look at all this fresh romaine

Just waiting to go on a salad, perhaps a Caesar

not only does SEA OF LOVE offer all of these sublime and occasionally laughable joys, but it also, and perhaps most importantly, it depicts the best shower curtain of all time––

this beautifully whimsical portrait of rumba musicians who happen to be alligators. Said shower curtain belongs to hardboiled cop Pacino,

whose street cred has never been more crystal clear.

Only now does it occur to me... CRUISING

Only now does it occur to me... the four most unexpected bit parts in William Friedkin's heavy leather psychological thriller, CRUISING, are:

#1.  Joe Spinell, brilliant NYC character actor (THE GODFATHER, MANIAC, TAXI DRIVER, THE SEVEN-UPS, NIGHTHAWKS, VIGILANTE) appearing as a closeted, homophobic cop.  He's only present for a handful of scenes, but he imbues his character with equal measures of sleaze, torment, and a surprising pathos.

Joe and his sleazy pathos (in the passenger seat).


#2.  Ed O'Neill (known chiefly for his sitcom work on MARRIED...WITH CHILDREN and MODERN FAMILY, though occasionally as a David Mamet stock player) as a plain-talkin' detective.

He's pictured here to the right of real-life cop-turned-actor Randy Jurgensen, who's looking sorta like a poor man's Warren Oates.

He doesn't have too much to do here, but he brings a straightforward, simple-minded focus to his character, running down dead-end leads for his boss, an utterly beleaguered NYPD Captain (GOODFELLAS' Paul Sorvino).


#3.  Hey, look, it's Powers Boothe (EXTREME PREJUDICE, DEADWOOD, SOUTHERN COMFORT, RED DAWN, SIN CITY)!  Now here's where it starts to get really special.

As the "Hankie Salesman," he briefly explains the code system of the of colored pick-up bandanas to undercover cop Al Pacino.  While describing which hankies in which pockets denote blowjobs, hustling, golden showers, et al., he plays the character as a mix of affectionately annoyed and mildly disinterested.  Pacino says he'll go home and "think about it."  "I'm sure you'll make the right choice," says Powers, still bored.

 #4.  James Remar (THE WARRIORS, DEXTER, 48 HRS., BAND OF THE HAND, THE PHANTOM) as the dancin' roommate.

One of the main supporting characters, Ted (Don Scardino, who plays him as a lovable Bohemian like from TALES OF THE CITY), has a boyfriend who's a mildly (?) abusive dancer who's always on tour.  He's spoken of occasionally throughout the film.  We finally get a glimpse of the dancer near the end, and it's none other than James Remar, wearing short-shorts and waving a butcher knife around.  This was especially amusing to me because, though we never see his character dance in CRUISING, I believe this may have inspired his role in 1987's RENT-A-COP, where he plays a murderous and sweaty dancin' machine.

In closing, CRUISING is a well-made psychological thriller (Friedkin has always been a consummate craftsman who rarely draws attention to his technique) with some brilliant performances and featuring a very specific time and place. It fits nicely in his "cops on the edge" oeuvre, alongside TO LIVE AND DIE IN L.A. and THE FRENCH CONNECTION.

Only now does it occur to me... THE GODFATHER!

Only now does it occur to me... that Sterling Hayden's Captain McClusky is the most lovable character in THE GODFATHER.

At first glance, it might not seem like it's the case, but hear me out. When I first saw the film sometime in the early 90s, I had no idea who Sterling Hayden was. Subsequent viewings upgraded him to "the guy from DR. STRANGELOVE" and later to "the guy in all those films noir" and finally, ultimately, to "Sterling mutherfucken Hayden." Yes, I became a full-fledged fanatic. You can read what I've written about him (and some of his fantastic life story) HERE.

Anyway, who is Captain McClusky? At best, a supporting role; at worst, a throwaway henchman. But to me, he's simply the bee's knees.

He first appears as a big lug police captain who's on the take from the nefarious narcotics man, Sollozzo (played by Al Lettieri, of MR. MAJESTYK and THE GETAWAY), punching devoted son Michael (Al Pacino) outside his father's hospital, and, okay, I'll admit that that's not very nice.

But look how happy he is!

Hey, though– he even apologizes later!

He's like a lovable gym teacher, or a kid's soccer coach. "Sorry I had to ride you so hard before the last game, Mikey, but you have to admit, doing those extra laps gave you back the eye of the tiger." Look at his back-slappin', "good job, son" face:

He probably just got back from Grandparents' Day at the local elementary.
Conversely, look at Pacino: planning to kill him. Plotting to bump off sweet old McClusky. What a mean guy. Yet there's a little satisfaction hidden beneath there, too. He's probably already contemplating the horrors of THE GODFATHER PART III.

Then they go to dinner. McClusky's just interested in some veal. Best in the city. Just a sweet old man eatin' some veal. Sollozzo reveals that he'd like to speak privately with Michael in Italian, and look at McClusky:

He's a "go-with-the-flow" kind of a guy. Speak your Italian, make your gangland deals, just leave me to my meal. He's simple, meat-and-potatoes. Well, mostly potatoes, if ya know what I mean, but hey, aren't we all.

Then Michael leaves to retrieve the murder weapon from the bathroom. McClusky's not worried. He frisked him already. He's frisked a thousand punks.

He's so matter-of-fact about it, too. He's not bragging. He's a humble, blue-collar hero who happens to be in the volatile business of punk-frisking. Is that any reason why he should have to die? You tell me.

Then, when Michael's been gone for an inordinate amount of time, he glances toward the bathroom.

It's not an evil glance, nor a scheming one. I think, and correct me if I'm wrong here, that it's a fatherly look. He's genuinely concerned that Michael's having some sort of an issue in the bathroom. Grandpa McClusky is here, ready and willing: need me to fix the toilet, Mikey?, having some trouble with the paper towel dispenser, Mikey?, I have a fine stool softener you can borrow if you'd like, Mikey. What a gent.

Then Michael comes out, and, after a tense moment where you're unsure if he's going to go through with it, actually going to shoot the beloved Gramps McClusky– he does.

I won't even show it here. I'm tearing up, just thinking about it. Doesn't even let him finish his bite of veal. Pretty rough stuff. Here's to you, Captain McClusky; only now does it occur to me that you're THE GODFATHER's emotional core. Or at least the core of veal-luvin', vaguely brutish grandfatherliness. Pass the Werther's.