Showing posts with label Stacy Keach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stacy Keach. Show all posts

Monday, January 11, 2010

Class of 1999 (Mark L. Lester, 1990)

When I heard the line: "The year is 1999... there is no law" verbalized with a slightly robotic intonation, I half expected the thumping bass intro of a killer techno jam to immediately follow its utterance. When that didn't occur, I knew I wasn't listening to my well-worn copy of Kickin Mental Detergent, but instead watching a violent oddity about a dystopian future that has already occurred. Taking place in the youth crime saturated netherworld that is the late 1990s, Class of 1999 is a film for those who love the sight of unconventionally dressed teens firing automatic weapons at one another in an after school setting, while simultaneously being stalked by their history, gym and chemistry teachers. Helmed by exploitation master Mark L. Lester (Roller Boogie), the merriment-filled flick combines the herky-jerky head movements and self-contained flamethrowers that permeate the rafters of almost every cyborg movie ever made with the sullen sneering and bad boy posturing of your typical gang picture. In other words: a marriage made in cinematic resplendence. Cap it all off with a Midge Ure song and we're really talking a marriage made in... Okay, enough already with the marriage talk; I've got cyborg action to overly praise. Focusing mainly on the post-incarceration life of Cody Culp (a hard-nosed Bradley Gregg), a recently released juvenile delinquent, the boisterous film follows him as he attempts to make it through high school in the exceedingly tough Free-Fire Zone, a section of Seattle that is off-limits to law enforcement.

Wary of his gang past (a pushy lot called the Blackhearts), Cody is hesitant to reestablish ties with his drug-addicted pals, which include Sonny (Darren E. Burrows), Mohawk (Sean Gregory Sullivan, a.k.a. the hyperactive gun dealer from Who's That Girl), and his little brother Angel (Near Dark's Joshua John Miller). Instead, he finds himself drawn to Christie (Traci Lind from My Boyfriend's Back), a comely young lass who just happens to be the principal's daughter.

On the faculty side of things, the principal (Malcolm McDowell) has given the go ahead to Dr. Bob Forrest (Stacy Keach) and his trio of cyborg teachers, Mr. Bryles (Patrick Kilpatrick), Ms. Connors (Pam Grier), and Mr. Hardin (John P. Ryan), to do a trial run at his heavily fortified learning facility.

A more clearheaded educator would have taken one look at Dr. Forest's cloudy eyes and suspect haircut and said to themselves: "This doesn't feel quite right." But the mechanical teachers are thrust into the classroom despite the obvious dangers. Monitored by a group of smart-looking people in lab coats (one of which was played by Lee Arenberg), the robo-teachers are quick to employ physical force as a means of generating obedience from the school's rambunctious pupils.

Of course, their disciplinary actions become more and more extreme as the week progresses. For example, the pipe smoking history teacher goes from rapidly spanking two students for fighting to asphyxiating one with his own drug paraphernalia after being tardy while high. When two of Cody's buds are killed, he starts to suspect that these newfangled chalkboard jockeys aren't exactly what they seem to be. It's at this moment when the Class of 1999 really starts to really crank up the crazy.

Procuring the help of Christie, Cody tries to uncover the sinister goings on at their school by doing do some suburban sleuthing (I knew it was the suburbs by the lack of sporadic gunfire), only to have the rogue teachers out maneuver them by inciting a gang war between Cody's the Blackhearts and the Razorheadz, lead by Hector (James Medina), who has already felt the heeled wrath of Pam Grier.

The showdown at the docks between the two heavily armed gangs was hands down my favourite sequence in the entire movie. The way they both positioned themselves, utilized mounds of debris as cover, and waited until everyone was ready were the first things I admired about this shootout. I mean, to see unruly gang members behave in such a chivalrous manner was rather refreshing. However, I nearly lost it when the actual shooting commenced. A virtual wave of irregular machine gun fire coming from all directions, this is exactly what I look for when it comes to on-screen mayhem. Forget about trying to figure out who's who and just sit back and watch the bullet-fueled insanity unfold.

There's one thing I can't decide, and that this, were the characters that populated this ultra-bleak universe more like the audience at your average Front 242 concert circa 1991? Or were they more akin to the loose assemblage of weirdos you might catch stage diving at a My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult gig, again, circa 1991? The sheer amount of black leather, studs, military footwear, and sullied denim worn throughout this film was mind-boggling. (Yeah, my mind is easily boggled.)

Speaking of being boggled, I'm still trying to figure out why Traci Lind's character is sporting a turban during a brief hallway encounter. She wasn't wearing it when the day began, and she certainly wasn't wearing it ended. Did she convert to Sikhism at lunch but decided to go back to her usual belief system by the time the afternoon bell rang out? Either way, it doesn't make sense because female Sikhs aren't big turban wearers. As they say, a mystery for the ages.

Anyway, heads are drilled, motorcycles are driven through the school's hallways, and flamethrowers are...thrown. Fun flick.


video uploaded by xtheunknown71
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Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Fat City (John Huston, 1972)

The old "could have been a contender" routine is given a bleak makeover in the gritty Fat City, John Huston's straightforward, naturalistic and little viewed tale about a down on his luck boxer named Tully. I'm not gonna lie, my knowledge of boxing is pretty much nonexistent. All I know is that the main objective is to render your opponent unconscious through a series of punches to the face. Sure, body blows are important as well, but the closer you hit to where the brain is stored, the more effective you will be in terms of causing unconsciousness. But other than that, I'm definitely a neophyte. So as you can see, my credibility when it comes to declaring this to be the best boxing movie I have ever seen is a tad on the iffy side; you know, with the fact that beyond the recent Million Dollar Baby, I haven't seen that many boxing movies. (I've only seen the iconic bits from Rocky and Raging Bull.) However, like most movies about sports and the athletes who compete in them, the actual activity itself is just a convenient metaphor for life's numerous ups and downs, and can be enjoyed on a number of non-sport related levels.

Spearheaded by two wonderful performances by Stacy Keach and Susan Tyrrell (the principal reason I watched this in the first place), the film is about Tully (Keach), a washed-up prizefighter living near the poverty line in Stockton, California. One day, the out of shape Tully meets Ernie (Jeff Bridges) at the Y.M.C.A. and is mildly invigorated by the youthful punch thrower after they spare a little. He thinks the kid's got talent and sends the wide-eyed 18 year-old to see Ruben (Nicholas Colasanto), his old trainer, while he continues to pick onions in the hot sun (life ain't easy for worn out boxers). Tully's mundane existence is spruced up when he falls for a shapely rummy named Oma (Tyrrell). Their relationship is contentious from the get-go, and threatens to complicate the fighter's comeback attempt.

I was surprised to learn that Stacy Keach wasn't nominated for an Oscar for his dishevelled turn as the boxer/day labourer. He gives a centred, yet quiet performance that doesn't have a false note (his hopelessness was exquisite). On the other hand, I wasn't surprised when I found out afterward that always wonderful Susan Tyrrell got nominated for her spunky work as Oma, a loquacious barfly with abandonment issues. Giving raving lunatics and adorable lushes a good name, Susan chews up the scenery left and right, spouting emasculating put-downs and using her inherent cuteness as a weapon. I loved the way she would repeatedly test the limits of Tully's sanity. Which is pretty risky when consider that she's living in a cramped room with a boxer.

Capturing the more unglamourous side to organized athletics, Fat City is teeming with unhappiness. And I mean that in the best possible way. There's an authenticity at work here that separates it from the majority of movies that revolve around sports. Whether it's the scenes with Stacy Keach and Susan Tyrrell moping around their dingy apartment (their insidious argument over dinner is the film's most compelling), or the carefree manner it went about depicting the boxing sequences, the film oozes truthfulness (I loved how Tully didn't even realize he'd won a fight). Now, this honesty is probably more of a reflection on the decade it was filmed than anything else (unflinching realism was big in the 1970s), but either way, there's a definite at purity at work here that should appeal to fans of small town boxing, morose drama, and, of course, the fantastic Miss Tyrrell.


video uploaded by Bomarzzo
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