Monday, November 30, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Defending Tequila Sunrise. Yes, Tequila Sunrise.
(By special Mugn Hour guest contributer, Double-S)
Today', we're going to defend the little seen noir film from the 80s, Tequila Sunrise? Why should we defend this piece of fluff? Go to any saturday night party, and you'll see a few loudmouths, sloshing their vodka cranberry in the kitchen, bashing films of a certain era. The young folks all live in the present, so they'll criticize anything that wasn't aimed at them. The old folks hate anything that was made in color. The film school snobs hate anything made after 1979, etc. Lately, the target of a lot of criticism seems to be the 1980s.
This is why film buffs between roughly 38 and 45 have such a unique perspective on the art of the movie. We were there for the changing of the guard. We were in the middle of our movie going youth when 'B' movies evolved into tentpoles, when Bond went from escapism to studio foundation. We were there when John Wayne made way for Clint Eastwood. We were there when Harrison Ford, Mel Gibson, Kurt Russell, Arnold Schwarzenneger, and Sylvester Stallone became huge commercial stars while Havey Keitel, Robert DeNiro, James Caan, and Al Pacino pretty much didn't.
People already at or near adulthood in the mid-70's don't get it. People born after about 1973 don't get it. Upon its December release in 1988, Tequila Sunrise was an oddity. Not a drama, not an action film, not a romance. Though people would balk today, none of its stars were at the time proven box office winners. Though famous, Gibson had enjoyed only one legitimate domestic hit. Pfeiffer had been part of one real hit and one critical darling. Russell was, and still is, the one kiddie star who moved into adult roles. The film was written by Chinatown's Robert Towne, and it wasn't good enough to win at Oscar time.
Mel and Bob may jump out of cyberspace to blow my theory, but Gibson's character was doomed to pay for his past transgressions from the start and the tacked on happy ending existed to make a failed attempt at Oscar bait commercial. Like Payback eleven years later, it worked. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if Gibson didn't draw from his Sunrise experience when he took Payback over from booted director, BrianHelgelund. So, to shit on the movie is just lame. The 1980's were an incredibly transformative decade for the medium. More so than even now when the 'movie' experience is being challenged from so many different directions.
It's easy to crap all over stupid audiences today, but I'd be very surprised if something like Twins would enjoy three times the box office receipts of Tequila Sunrise this Christmas. Look at the eighties. DeNiro was a non-factor until his first 'commercial' effort in 1988 and he pretty much hasn't looked back in the two decades since. Pacino effectively did not work from Scarface to 1989's Sea of Love. Keitel was relegated to supporting work in Judge Reinhold and Joe Piscopo vehicles. Caan took the decade off. Why? Because they made movies no one saw.
Again, give DeNiro credit for cashing in. He figured it out a good decade ahead of Pacino and hasn't been forced into DTV because of it. What does all this have to do with Tequila Sunrise? Damned little, save for the fact very few 'insiders' in 1979 would've predicted that Sly, Arnie, and Mel would be the big dogs in the eighties while folks like Bobby, Al, and Jimmy were poised to relative obscurity in that time frame.
We'll discuss the 80s further at a later time. Sure, there is plenty of room for criticism, but to write the decade off is just not cricket man, particularly Tequila Sunrise. Not a great movie, but definitely worth another look.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)