Strada senza ritorno

A popular actor/musician who like many genuine rock stars can't keep it inside his trousers, crosses the wrong person and ends up with his throat slit, an injury intended to punish and ruin his career rather than kill. After refusing to name his attacker, he gets up from his hospital bed, and heads for skid row where after an indeterminate time he is framed more or less by accident for the murder of a police officer.

Escaping from custody in a unique fashion he somehow stumbles upon his assailant, who just happens to be involved in a plot to take over the city if not the world, and by a serendipitously circuitous route, justice is served. There is quite a bit more to it than that, none of it any more believable, but it shouldn't take the viewer long to realise this film was never intended to be taken seriously.

Street of No Return is and is not a real return to form for maverick B-movie director Samuel Fuller, chiefly because he never really lost a form in the first place. But in essence, the story he's tackling here, based on a David Goodis novel, calls out to a pulpy melodrama/film-noir from the 50s ala Pickup on South Street. There aren't any sensationalized messages being laid out like in a Shock Corridor or Park Row, yet Fuller, even at the ripe old mid 70s, wasn't about to skimp out in his swan song for his die-hard fans.

There's plenty of "realistic" violence (in quotes because, as Fuller says in an interview on the DVD, it's not really real, but fictionalized there's a deeper reality to the dramatizing of it), particularly the opening riot sequence, one of the best scenes, and in the climax of the film, where everything is shrouded mostly by smoke as cops and bad guys duke it out. There's emotion- in the total Fuller sense- as he still to the end embraces melodrama as something that can work when not distilled for the audience, especially through intuitive manipulations of the camera in point of view and the wallops of timing with the editing. There's even a fairly decent, if a little estranged, performance from Keith Carradine, and an excellent bad-ass cop turn from character actor Bill Duke.

But then there's also the side to Fuller, as Eastwood is in the midst of right now, in his style and approach to the script where trying new things goes with going old and having (seemingly) nothing to lose as an artist. The only problem is Fuller skirts the edges on whether or not he's making a serious thriller or more of a satire of one set squarely in the mid 80s. Carradine's character, for example, is an 80s era pop singer named simply Michael (a possible in-joke towards Michael Jackson), who sings and plays songs that are kind of second rate power ballads that only work on a level of cheesy enjoyment; this goes also for his music videos, even though one might sense Fuller working some of his more jokey stabs there, and it's not as abhorrent if one just takes a total sense of disbelief.

Actually, that might count for a good deal of the movie, because at the core the story is so set in its one-dimensional ways: the mistreated and helpless woman taken away from Michael (who meet and fall in love in a manner only Fuller could pull off with a wink and a nod); the hard-bitten cop looking at trouble if he doesn't crack the case; the unrepentant criminals- white and black- who conspire to have whatever at their will, either by corporate schilling or by immediate gang warfare. This, plus the musical score by Karl-Heinz Schafer which is maybe the worst aspect to making it more dramatically powerful when needed, hamper what are the better qualities.

I wouldn't trade seeing any Sam Fuller motion picture, warts and all, because there's always something to experience and take-in as the director's ideals at showing something compelling from real-life situations (eg the crack years in the urban areas in the 80s, and the underlying issue of race) are never out of sync with making such two-dimensional characters alive and a style angry at conventional ways. It lacks the full drive of a classic, but there's still a pulse that throbs enough to make it worthwhile. Carradine fans, I might add, may be in for a small surprise seeing such a dialog-free performance as a man stripped of his life, or at least dignity, and then given it back piece by piece.

These reviews have lots of bad things to say about Carradine in this, but for me, he really made the film.

He is called bland here. One person says he acts like he doesn't know what he's doing in this.

I believe this is the point. This is a guy who was a rock star and then hit the skids and is a bum. And he doesn't really realize why.

And then he becomes embroiled as a witness to a race riot, is suspected of a killing, and is generally tossed about, and he reacts to all of this as a person who doesn't quite understand, and yet is driven by a desire to get revenge on those who are ill-using him.

This is the last film by a legendary director who never rose above B movies, but injected a quirkiness of his own. This isn't his best, but it is mesmerizing. It certainly is a violent film, but it isn't mindless. See it when you are in the mood for ridiculous plotting exquisitely directed.

The movie is wacky at almost every stage, and yet it undeniably works - whether through sheer naivete and flagging relevance or through simple genius, Fuller creates a totally unique and mesmerizing world of vivid colour, strange emptiness and weird evocation. It's clearly meant to be set in the US yet there's not a single interior or exterior which looks like it - Carradine plays an extremely anachronistic Europop star figure, yet the music actually has an underlying longing that's quite effective; the primal device of the black and white race riots is a distillation of Fuller's eternal theme - driven by big business, taking place in isolation on a street of no return, drained of all context or passion: the very first shot of a hammer blow to the head is incredibly jolting. All the noir elements are here, and the memory of better days hangs heavily over the plot - at the end you're amazed by how well structured it is, but it's the blinkered purity that produces the most mesmerizing results. Really memorable and weird.

Well this movie brings a big question to me. Why did they do it? With a director, that has been good although irregular. He seems to have done it without caring much about his movie. The actors are very bad, especially Keith Carradine, who acts like a robot, and gives no feeling to his role. They look as if they're asking themselves what they are doing here, and overplay, in a totally not realistic way. The lights, filming, and style of the film, is outdated, of course, but it's outdated in a way that makes it dull. Many movies of the eighties still look good, but this one, just looks old. It seems that Fuller wanted his movie to look modern, but in fact, he was overwhelmed by the era he was living in at the time, he didn't understood what were the times he was living, like a poor old guy, hanging to his old ideas. So his movies doesn't look either modern or timeless. Maybe the book was good, but this strange mix of French and American actors, French team and American director is a total failure.