Jackson County Jail (1976)

In 1956, President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the Federal Aid Highway Act into law, creating the Interstate Highway System (part of the National Highway System) we use (in America, obviously) to this day (and more often than not are inconvenienced by what we perceive to be the extremely inefficient and perpetual maintenance thereof). In post-WWII/Korean War America, more and more people opted to "See the U.S.A. in [Their] Chevrolet," and long-distance driving became something to do for reasons other than (primarily) shipping goods and mobilizing military assets from state to state. For fans of exploitation and genre cinema this opened up a whole new avenue to explore. For all the major metropolitan areas that these roads zip through, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of small towns which are inherently creepy (at least to people raised in more urban and suburban settings) for their insularity and remoteness. After all, not all monsters come with fangs and claws.

Dinah Hunter (Yvette Mimieux) is an ad executive in Los Angeles. After expressing herself forcefully to a (jackass of a) client over a feminine hygiene product ad, she goes home early. Upon arrival, she discovers her hubby, David (Howard Hesseman), screwing around with some teenie bopper. Deciding to head back to New York, Dinah chooses to drive rather than fly and "see the country" (never a good idea in exploitation movies). Through a series of despicable and harrowing events, she finds herself locked up in the eponymous jail where a final incident pushes her over the edge. Whisked away by aloof crook, Coley Blake (Tommy Lee Jones), looking like something Joan Crawford dug up out of a cave in England), the pair find themselves on the lam with no easy way out.

Michael Miller's Jackson County Jail, being attached as it is to Roger Corman, was sold to the American grindhouse circuit as an exploitation film. Though it does have some exploitable elements, the film is of a higher caliber than many similarly-themed films of the time (the first that springs to my mind is Black Mama, White Mama, but feel free to add your own). It has action and an aura of sleaze, but it never wallows in it, and the filmmakers create characters that behave (more) believably given the circumstances. Moreover, it doesn't dwell on the exploitable facets as so many of its brethren would. The filmmakers seem to care about what happens to these characters other than in a strictly prurient sense, and consequently so does the viewer.

This is Dinah's story, and principally it is one of discovery. When the film starts, she certainly has an opinion (and often a correct one), but the men she encounters undermine and devalue this opinion, trying to make her a subservient woman to their own chauvinistic needs and desires. Once the events in her life escalate, she finds herself robbed not only of her mind but her body, as well. Sheriff Dempsey (Severn Darden) sums it up succinctly when he tells Dinah that she's being held until she can prove who she says she is. 

It is through the juxtaposition of her words to her actions in the remainder of the film that Dinah's character should be revealed. And yet, somehow it never truly feels like it is. The filmmakers seemed to want to play it safe, with Dinah aligning herself with the outlaw Coley, but maintaining that she has faith that the system will vindicate her. Or perhaps this subversion of the expectation that Dinah must emerge from her ordeal a much stronger woman is, in fact, the whole point. Maybe she isn't a strong woman, and all of her actions and positions before were just posturing, a façade masking the true person.

Dinah Hunter's name can be seen as a variation on the Roman Diana, goddess of the hunt and protector of virgins and women. Dinah, herself, doesn't appear to be looked after by any divinity in particular, though the case can be made (and I can hear you groaning as I stretch for this one) that Coley represents Apollo, Diana's sister and god of (among other things) truth and prophecy. Jones plays Coley as stoic as stoic gets, saying things like, "I'll play what's dealt," and "I's born dead." He tries to show Dinah that there is really only one path open to her. Whether she accepts this by film's end is open to some debate.

On a filmmaking level, Miller displays a capable hand. He moves the camera when necessary and locks it down when appropriate. He also uses handheld techniques on four occasions (that I counted), and each time it succeeds in conveying the immediacy and tension required of the scenes. The first use is during Dinah's excursion into a bar's back room, and it conveys the chaos and confusion of her character right up until she exits into the main bar room (and assumed safety). The second use is during Dinah's rape, and there is an abundance of closeups and extreme closeups to draw us in and force us to witness the event but never in a leering, exploitive way. The shots immediately following the violation are longer, awkward, and uncomfortable, as befits the situation. The third and fourth handheld sequences focus on Coley and are action scenes to add thrills and tension, not necessarily to illustrate a point, but they are effective and well-done, nonetheless. The car chase scenes are also handled nicely, and there were a few points where I thought Coley's pickup was going to flip over (ah, the joys of practical filmmaking). To be fair, there are some continuity errors and gaffs (most noticeably with some mismatched eyelines), but it's never enough to detract from the experience overall.

The filmmakers also make a point of stating that the film takes place during America's (and the town of Fallsburg's, coincidentally) bicentennial celebration. This was a year for the country when national pride was at an all-time high, on the surface at least. But with the recent end of an enormously unpopular war in Vietnam and the Watergate scandal that ousted President Nixon from office, there came a strong distaste and distrust of public authority in general. Though it is never stated outright, it is easy to intuit that Coley was a soldier who returned from Vietnam to an uncaring country. He claims he has always been a crook, but he is also of the popular counterculture opinion that "the whole goddamn country is a ripoff." His nihilistic demeanor seems more a defensive reaction than an inborn credo, but we are never let in fully to his motivations. It is telling, then, that the film's finale occurs at a bicentennial parade, disrupting it and symbolically calling out a collective establishment that had become dismissive of its rank and file. Also of note is the expression on Dinah's face as the film fades to black. On one hand, the full impact of her life up to this point clarifies for her. Yet on the other hand, she glances around, seemingly confused about where to turn next. Certainly, this is a sentiment prescient for both its time and our own.

MVT: Mimieux carries the film, and I think she does a remarkable job portraying someone struggling to deal with the most traumatic events of her life and not truly knowing how.     

Make Or Break: The "Make" scene is when Coley tells Dinah that they're both now wanted for the events in the jail. The scene is understated, but places a very definite bit of punctuation on the ineluctable finality of the duo's fate.

Score: 7/10

 

 

 

Black Moon Rising (1986)

Directed by: Harley Cokeliss

Written by: John Carpenter, William Gray & Desmond Nakano

Starring: Tommy Lee Jones & Linda Hamilton

Black Moon Rising delivers a premise we're all accustomed to in B-movie action cinema. Our very honorable government dislikes acquiring objects and information through unlawful means, but they have no issues hiring someone not on a covert alphabet soup agency payroll to do their dirty work. Enter professional thief Sam Quint (Tommy Lee Jones) to steal a highly valuable cassette tape that must contain awfully incriminating evidence against some big company. We know it is seriously incriminating because henchmen goons immediately pursue Quint with blaring automatic weapons to retrieve the tape. From what I gather, this cassette tape is a bootleg pre-release recording of Wham!'s pop masterpiece Music From The Edge of Heaven. I'd chase Tommy Lee Jones with an uzi, too, to keep that album off the black market circa 1986.

With these thugs hot on his trail, Quint manages to briefly escape for a pitstop at a gas station. Bad time for a bathroom break and to satiate that Baby Ruth craving, if you ask me. Nonetheless, Quint finds the perfect place to stash the sensitive cassette. He conceals it inside the hidden panel of a hi-tech prototype car, known as The Black Moon, en route to an exhibition. The car is hot crap because it runs on hydrogen and toplines at 300 mph. Unfortunately, a group of thieves led by female carjacker Nina (Linda Hamilton) heists the Black Moon for car theft ring overlord Mr. Ryland (Robert Vaughn) before Quint is able to get the cassette out. Further complicating matters is that the Black Moon is stored in the ruthless Mr. Ryland's skyscraper stronghold of stolen vehicles, which is something along the lines of a fortress to break into evidently. This leaves Quint with a 72 hours or else ultamatium from our secrective trustworthy government agency to get that tape back.

Black Moon Rising is probably most well known as written by John Carpenter and sold on spec shortly before his filmmaking career ascended. Supposedly the shooting script was heavily changed from Carpenter's original version that was turned in nearly a decade before the film went into production. If you examine Black Moon Rising closely, you can detect small Carpenter narrative threads woven into the story; the central plotline concerns an outlaw commissioned begrudgingly by the government to secure a much desired tape from a dangerous stronghold, reminiscent of Escape From New York. It should also be noted that the film features a strong lead female character not so uncommon to typical Carpenter pictures. Whatever revisions were made, the finished product is still a fun-filled affair. That is provided you can look past story quibbles like questioning Quint's strategy in hiding the tape in a moveable object such as a vehicle that can shatter land-speed records or, you know, in not duplicating the cassette tape.

The film generates the majority of its energy from the action scenes. While they're not exceptional, they are very well done with grittiness and served in abundance. Stylistically, the stripped down action reminds me of a 70s actioner, emphasizing car chases, gunplay and hand-to-hand fights. In particular, there's a nicely developed short fight exchange between Tommy Lee Jones and Lee Ving playing his old-time nemesis Marvin Ringer. Earlier in the film, there's also a simple though quite effective fight scene where Ryland's goon crew pummels Quint to a fairly brutal degree that concludes with a decent little surprise. And before the film wears out its welcome, the premise changes gears to more of a straight-ahead heist movie as Quint must work with the Black Moon creators on a tactical plan to enter Ryland's skyrise to get the prototype speedster back.

Director Harley Cokeliss isn't flashy in his approach, opting to basically stay out of the way and let the action on screen speak for itself without trying to punch it up with intensified editing or indulgent camera tricks. If not for the inclusion of the high powered roadster, Black Moon Rising would feel at home if tabbed as 70s action cinema, which is perhaps indicative of the length between the script's sale and actual production.

Tommy Lee Jones' steely grittiness and subtle coolness anchors the cast and picture. Not to belabor the point, but Jones' Quint feels like he came from the 70s and it's that tone that really permeates the whole and elevates it from falling into zany 80s trappings of the era. It is further intriguing to see a much younger Tommy Lee Jones headlining this style of movie. For me, I see him so much more as the older hardass superior character barking orders whereas here he gets to play the bad ass loner who refuses to take orders. Linda Hamilton turns in strong work as a car thief as well. She subverts the natural inclination to soften her performance by giving into the romantic relationship developed through Quint's character. Rather, she constantly maintains a toughness throughout that doesn't undermine her character nor the film itself. I will say that Bubba Smith nearly steals the show as our secret government agent when telling an innocent bar patron relieving himself harmlessly at the urinal to "put it away and get out" so he can have a private bathroom to conference with Quint.

If there's one glaring weakness, it is that the car of the titular title is not that cool. Black Moon looks like a useless dark wedge of plastic, something akin to a blown-up version of a cheap Matchbox racer. In fact, the car visually comes off as so diminutive that it feels like I could pack it around in one of those Hot Wheels grid-like carrying cases. Perhaps, my dislike for the car derives from the incongruence of a vehicle that screams bad 80s design hot rodding around in a picture giving off an intense 70s vibe. Why can't George Lucas put his digital re-wizardry to work on movies like this and replace Black Moon with a much cooler muscle car?

Make or Break scene - The most standout make scene is probably the car chase sequence that takes place during the film's finale in the skyrise. It isn't mind-blowing, but it does the build-up justice and caps off with a cool little shortcut between two high rises. Despite not finding the car all that cool, the action assists in defining Black Moon as a desirable mode of thievery transport.

MVT - The action. The film keeps offering a steady diet of action bursts, and that's what saves the film from questionable narrative directions and thin characters. Although, it is difficult to pinpoint one element that is predominantly more valuable than another as everyone and everything turns out solidly.

Score - 7/10

In Honor of Irvin: The Eyes of Laura Mars

So, giallo. Hey.

I know I’ve said some iffy things about you in the past, but maybe we just got off on the wrong red high heeled foot. Perhaps I’m simply a narrow-minded American who can’t handle dubbing or synth scoring. Maybe I can only savor my boobs, black gloves and blood when flavored by McDonald’s and Ruby Tuesdays.

And so, with a clock ticking on Instant Watch, I queued up Irvin “Empire Strikes Back” Kershner’s 1978 thriller, The Eyes of Laura Mars.


Several months ago. And then he, maker of one of the most universally loved films of all time, passed away at the age of 87. So even though I (spoiler alert!) didn't love this movie, I hereby dedicate this post (at least, the good stuff in it) to the late Mr. Kershner.

Quick Plot: 

Faye “Forever Mommie Dearest” Dunway plays Laura Mars, a controversial photographer known for staging macabre spreads to highlight high fashion (recall the Jaslene-winning Cycle of America's Next Top Model wherein the girls had to pose as brutally murdered corpses. I imagine most of you Gents are familiar with said shoot).

On the night of her huge NYC gallery opening, Laura learns that one of her models has been murdered in a similar style to a featured picture. Later, her agent suffers a similar fate as Laura sees it from own head simultaneously.

So what’s the deal, you might ask. Is Laura psychically connected to the killer? Is she breeding violence with her own aesthetics? And of course, who exactly is running around Manhattan, gouging out the eyeballs of lesbian models that bare eerie resemblances to Nomi Malone?

Here may I present the suspects, in spoiler free fashion (plus their astoundingly awesome ‘70s hair):

Limo driver Brad Dourif, who can always be counted on to do any and all of the following:

1-give the best performance in a film

2-burn holes through viewer’s heads with the power of his crazy eyes

3-lapse momentarily into a gleefully cuss-filled Chucky trill that inspires audience members to immediately queue up Child’s Play following whatever lesser movie he’s currently in

and 4-always, as a character, be responsible for something bad.

Hair: Curly, springable, sensational

Rene Auberjonois as Donald, Laura’s blah and unlikable assistant.

Hair: Ready to wear Farrah

Raul M. Bison Julia as Laura’s alcoholic ex.

Hair: Slick and on its way to Gomez Adams

Tommy Lee Jones as Lt. Neville, a policeman assigned to the case and of course, Laura’s bear-fur covered bed. He sports typical Texas charm and a farmer’s tan.

Hair: Flowy and fabulous, with sideburns to boot

Laura Mars herself

Hair: Chic...ish

One of the problems I’m learning I have with the giallo subgenre (and I know: Laura Mars is American and therefore not giallo, but c’mon: everything else is there) is the tease ‘n cheat game it tends to play with its audience. Sure, plenty of viewers will probably finger the killer within his or her first five minutes of screentime, but not for any other reason than “Well, could be that person.” The resolutions, at least from what I’ve seen, are shocking but arbitrary. This would be fine if the films didn’t seem to devote so much energy to dropping clues or red herrings, only to then in the last scene, substitute a usually ridiculous explanation to justify the previous 90 minutes.

And yes, The Eyes of Laura Mars is as guilty as Tenebrae of opening a jack-in-the-box of an answer that ignores lots of details and fails to come near addressing the basic mystery of the film. For all its fascination with point of view and fabricated violence, The Eyes of Laura Mars ultimately just wants to make you say “It was THAT person?”

MVT

Faye Dunway is not just a great actress; she’s also a genuinely interesting film presence that instantly makes Laura Mars a woman worth following. That the film never really does anything with her place as a female artist staging violence against women is its own shame, but Dunway remains in control throughout. And truly, her legs are spectacular

Stray High Point

I was raised to salute a film any time it features an AMC Pacer, so The Eyes of Laura Mars, cheers

Make Or Break

See: rant about mysterious and unspoiled ending

Lessons Learned

Unless you’re in a movie about a talking baby, it’s fairly safe to assume that most NYC cab drivers are jerks

Conducting gackground checks on personal staff is never a bad idea

In the late 1970s, everybody’s hair was awesome

Score: 6.75

The Eyes of Laura Mars is a well-constructed films aided immensely by fine performances and made a little more interesting by some serious ‘70s style (did I mention the Streisand sung song that opens and closes the credits?). I’m personally annoyed by its plotting, which is overly tangled and unresolved. It’s like a woman with a knotted mane who just gives up and gets a pixie cut. Not. Fair. But hey, it has plenty to hold your attention and ponder some time later. Just don’t expect the film to give you any real closure.