99 and 44/100% Dead!

"99 and 44/100% Dead!" is usually known as one of John Frankenheimer's lesser movies, but it's entertaining enough for its short run. This typical gangster spoof casts Richard Harris as a hitman hired by his uncle due to a challenge by a rival gangster. I moved to Seattle last year, so it was neat to see some of the places where I've been (namely Gasworks Park). They don't say where it takes place, but most of it does appear to be the Emerald City.

Yeah, it was pretty much what I expected: lots of gunfire, hot babes, and cool fight scenes. Frankenheimer later admitted that he didn't really know what kind of movie he was making. I guess that after "The Birdman of Alcatraz" and "Seven Days in May", he felt like he was getting held to high standards. As far as I'm concerned, this movie is all about just being funny, and it is. Good enough.

Robert Dillon's script was considered by producer Joe Wizan to be a black comedy along the lines of Dillon's earlier one for "Prime Cut" (1972: d. Michael Ritchie). Director Frankenheimer, on returning to the USA after much time in France, was faced with a situation wherein years of bad reviews of his films were taking their toll. He accepted this project, and wanted Robert Mitchum for the main role, but the producers wanted Richard Harris, fresh from the hit film "A Man Called Horse".

Critically however, the released film was felt to be a total fiasco, many reviewers holding that it represented the director's career at rock bottom. The film's dark, bleak humour and use of caricature were considered testimony to a certain sadism on Frankenheimer's part, and evidence of his growing contempt. In later years, even the great director plays down this most unusual gangster satire.

It concerns a hitman trapped between rival gangs, and takes place in a vaguely futuristic city, which seems spatially to constantly re-define itself. It is filmed obliquely, so one is never on sure footing as to how to react. What is most interesting about this peculiarity, are the number of bizarre, surrealistic pop-culture set-pieces in a world of futile violence and rampant egos. Only despair and nihilism at the absurdity of it all enables the characters to hold on to whatever shreds of honour they can maintain although they all succumb to personal pride at the expense of everything else.

Frankenheimer directs with a stylistic over-kill at times which sits uneasily with a certain lethargic quality, although it probably guarantees the film a cult audience in the future. Perhaps the film is best seen as a failed, but intriguing attempt to reconcile the director's frequent recourse to stylization with genre-based social satire. Still, the film seems uncertain of its aims, and tends to flounder in its often considerable visual panache. The remarkable opening sequence however, is amongst the oddest ever put to film, and typifies the film's sense of comic despair. A curio.

The title refers to the now very old Ivory Soap claim of 99 and 64/100% Pure - and there is another "old" meaning for 'pure' that would be known to Frankenheimer and Dillon. It's another word for the material tanners would use in browning leather - dog turds. This should have been a clue to the humor to follow.

This is an interesting and odd film.

John Frankenheimer's post modern stab at the crime genre comes hot off the heels of Michael Ritchie's Prime Cut (from the same author no less), only the tone is more cutesy and the body count is nearly tripled. After a Pycal-inspired opening and an excellent underwater graveyard montage, we are introduced to pearly pistol gripped gangster Richard Harris who's en route to Chicago (?) to help win a dangerous mob war. The substandard mafia plot sits second tier to the film's sporadic comedy spoofing and mugging, much of what both fails and succeeds simultaneously at the hands of its dramatic director who must have been at the peek of his well publicized cocaine binge. Harris, with his balding curl mullet and wide-brimmed glasses resembles a young Michael Caine or Woody Allen depending on the lighting and camera angle, but performs his actions and delivers his dialog like a stone cold stoic; the juxtaposition is startling and dare I say cool as hell. Action scenes come out of nowhere and are framed and executed with professionalism, including a crazy ambush on an elevated bridge, and Chuck Conner's interchangeable James Bond claw which can alternate between knives and sex toys given the occasion. Much maligned and obscure gem. The skeletal dead humans and accompanying narrator reminds me of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland.

The Spiegelman-esquire comic book artwork that promotes this film really enticed my curiosity, but the film overall didn't turn out to be as "far out" as the many reviews I read for it. It's good--Harry's cool, and the characters were fun, but the plot points are cliché and only the soundtrack really makes this a tongue-in-cheek satire of movie violence (it's Harry Mancini ala Pee Wee Herman). So, if you're looking for a really strange, arty, Mod satire watch Modesty Blaise, They Call Her One Eye, or A Clockwork Orange. Or, if you want amputees with strange devices watch Deadfall or any Alejandro Jodorowsky movie. The effort to track down and pay for a copy of this will perhaps disappoint.