Mike's Beautiful Laundrette

My Beautiful Laundrette

Written by Hanif Kureishi

And so, after a too-long hiatus for reasons I assume no one cares about, I have returned to the fold of talking about movies with screenwriting accolades! In fairness, it may have taken me a while to get to this write-up anyway, as there’s a lot to “unfold” in My Beautiful Laundrette (Ha HA! I’m the best). I’m not too up on Stephen Frears’ filmography, honestly, and about the only thing that really excited me about it was the chance to see a young Daniel Day-Lewis. Spoiler alert: he’s pretty great.

This was a strange movie. I can’t for the life of me figure out where screenwriter Hanif Kureishi came up with the idea, unless it was pulled from some real life experience. A little research tells me that Laundrette largely concerns Thatcher-era British politics, but as an American who was born only a few months after this movie was released, I can’t say I have a good frame of reference. It’s difficult to really put into context is what I’m saying, so I’ll have to approach it from another angle. I can’t relate to the real-world events informing the story in any meaningful way, so I have to look at the characters and the plot individually to see if it all works.

So we’ve got Omar, a young middle eastern fellow, who gets a job working for his uncle’s car dealership. He does a good job and gets promoted to running his uncle’s laundromat. Only it appears his uncle is into some pretty unsavory affairs, and Omar is kind of forcibly thrust into his world. He never seems to mind all that much, but he has almost no agency. The job is given to him, as is the promotion, and the invitation to his uncle’s party. It’s almost as though Omar is being forced into some kind of seedy underworld as his family constantly reassures him that this is the only way to be successful.

The first thing Omar goes out of his way to take for himself are the management position at the laundromat and, soon after that, Johnny. They’re the only two things in his control, or at least under his influence. Johnny’s entrance into the story is when My Beautiful Laundrette really takes off, and not just because Daniel Day-Lewis is never less than mesmerizing. That’s part of it, of course, but there’s more. Johnny’s introduction brings the movie to life and brings conflicts in. Omar’s family doesn’t like that he hired an employee, Johnny’s friends don’t like him hanging around these “Pakis,” etc. That big brawl at the end can all be traced back to Johnny coming back into Omar’s life.

But let’s talk about the love affair. It’s interesting, I kept thinking Laundrette was going to turn into kind of a proto-Brokeback Mountain, and be about these star-crossed lovers who are forced apart by circumstances and the social climate of the time. It’s not, though. There’s some palpable tension when Uncle almost walks in on them in the office, but it’s quickly defused. Omar is supposed to marry his cousin, but Johnny doesn’t take it personally. Then Omar’s cousin (Tania, who is delightful) takes a liking to Johnny, but that doesn’t rattle Omar in the slightest. Instead, it seems like Johnny and Omar’s love for each other serves to illustrate how stupid all that racial tension is. The Pakis don’t trust the whites, and vice versa, and it all culminates in violence in the final act. Johnny and Omar are there to show us how meaningless it all really is. Race doesn’t even factor into their relationship aside from a brief conversation about Johnny’s former days as a radical.

That’s how I read it. Another divergent road from Brokeback is that there seems to be a happy ending. Everything ends with Omar and Johnny playfully splashing each other, even after their (beautiful) laundromat gets trashed, as if to say, “Hey, this is the world we live in. Let’s start over and try again.” What else can you do?

Lots of little touches I liked. I laughed out loud at the shot of Uncle spying Tania on the train platform, and Omar’s father was always good for a laugh. “Not a bad little dump you’ve got here,” was a great line.

So as for ongoing rankings…

1)      My Beautiful Laundrette

2)      “Crocodile” Dundee

Next up is an Oliver Stone double feature, with Platoon followed by Salvador. Let’s do it to it.

Danny Does Laundry

            Here we are again with a movie I’ve never heard of – My Beautiful Laundrette written by Hanif Kureishi. And, man, doesn’t a title like that just get you pumped up? When I saw it on the list, I couldn’t wait to kick back, have a beer and crush this film. And then, of course, I do a little research and see that it’s Stephen Frears and Baby Day-Lewis, so I knew I was in for a dramatically adult time. In the immortal words of everyone who’s watched this movie ever, “Let’s get this party started.”

            Somehow, even though I knew nothing about this going in, it defied all my expectations. There isn’t really a coherent plot to discuss. A kid opens a laundromat, I guess. It’s not really a specific character study. Too many people bouncing around. It’s this kind of mosaic of a movie. A portrait of a time and a place. And, in that sense, it’s effective. But it’s certainly an odd movie, and one that I didn’t really connect with on any significant level. Maybe it’s because the specific milieu of the movie was so unfamiliar, but that’s not typically an issue for me. I mean, part of a movie’s job is to drop you into it’s setting and whisk you away. But here it just never happened. So I’m not a huge fan, but let’s talk about the script.

           

            Gotta give credit here to Kureishi for respecting his viewers. He never spells anything out. I had to constantly reconstruct these characters in my head. The Dad isn’t just a drunk, he’s out of place, out of time. The uncle’s a ruthless businessman, sure, but he’s also loyal. Even the Scarface cousin manages to have dimensions. Empathy falls from the sky. It’s impressive. And probably best exemplified in the scene between Tanya and her Father’s mistress when they meet at the inexplicably crowded opening of the new laundry mat. Tanya attempts to paint her as some evil temptress, but the movie’s smarter than that, and instead offers up a depressing slice of life. It’s good stuff.

            The two leads are probably the least interesting characters and maybe that’s why I can’t fully appreciate the script. Omar is a scrappy entrepreneur. Not above screwing people over to get what he wants. But all in the service of a laundromat. To be fair, this is a Laundromat the neighborhood is apparently clamoring for. The one they always needed, but never knew they wanted. Powders. Oh, and Baby Day-Lewis is…all over the place. A businessman, a lover, a punk, a criminal. I don’t know. I do want to say that I love the English “punk”. I don’t know how real they were/are, but all cinematic English punks seem so squirmy and oddly acrobatic. I love it. In any case, I found myself mostly confused by him. And this largely locks me out of the central arc. And, look, I get how their relationship thematically mirrors the larger issues in the movie, but if I don’t care then it doesn’t matter.

            I think this might be an example of what I’ll call, for now, the reverse-Unforgiven. I realize it’s currently sitting at number one on my list, but I think that movie is a good example of the filmmaking really elevating and complementing the script. In many cases, blinding the viewer to any of its flaws. Yes, yes, we’re here to talk about scripts, but we’re watching the movies, so I’m gonna talk about it. Only with Laundrette, I feel it’s the opposite. I’m not entirely sure why this movie has a punk rock, neon, foggy vibe to it. It doesn’t seem to fit at all. I think the Frears working today would have made an entirely different looking, possibly better film with this exact same material.

            Truth be told, I spent a lot this movie thinking about a better, similar movie – Do the Right Thing. And I kept right on thinking about it even as I watched that movie’s climax unfold, nearly identically, in this film. A lot of the ideas this movie presents, Right Thing improves upon. But, as I said earlier, that might just be my disconnect with this particular world. These conflicts don’t resonate directly for me. I can substitute them, of course, but that still removes them. So, while I can respect and appreciate this script for what it does well, I can’t call it great. But…is it worse than Crocodile Dundee? Of course, not. Don’t be ridiculous.

1.     My Beautiful Launderette

2.     Crocodile Dundee

            

Danny Goes Down!

            We’d been debating how to go about selecting the next year for this project – Take turns? Argue a choice? Number generator? But, a few beers into a conversation with our buddy Cowart, and the answer became clear. Let his unbridled enthusiasm be our guide. And, on that day, his passion pointed to Crocodile Dundee. After half an hour discussing the particulars of Paul Hogan’s masculinity, Cowart informed me this movie was up for Best Original Screenplay. What? The movie about the whacky Australian with a knife? How did I not know this? And that brings us to 1986. And, alphabetically, to Crocodile Dundee. With a script from old Croc himself Paul Hogan, as well as John Cornell and Ken Shadie.

           

            I watched this move a lot as a kid. I’m not sure why. Maybe my Mom was a fan. Maybe it was on TV all the time. Maybe I couldn’t get enough Hogan. In any case, it’s probably been fifteen years since I’ve seen it. I remember fake crocodiles, the huge knife and the babe swimming. Hey, I was ten. And ten year old me was all about the “babes”. I also generally remember enjoying the movie, so I was interested in giving it a look again, especially under the lens of a Best Screenplay nominee.

            And under that lens, I just don’t see it. It’s difficult to grasp how this film could have been nominated for its screenplay. It’s featherweight. I imagine the writers clutching a checklist of Australian clichés. And there’s not much on its mind, outside of some goofy jokes. And, hey, if those jokes were hilarious, I’d be on board. Comedy is wildly underappreciated at the Oscars. But they’re amusing at best. With a few inspired bits scattered about. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d wager people were blinded by Hogan’s charisma. And maybe some of the older voters appreciated the throwback Screwball aspects on display. This movie wouldn’t have been out of place in 1946. Except for that bathing suit, of course.  But a quick search tells me 1986 also gave us Big Trouble in Little China, Labyrinth, Blue Velvet and, if all you want is a lightweight romp, Ferris Bueller. There were better, more interesting options this year.

            With that out of the way, let’s talk about the movie on its own terms. It’s certainly got a goofy charm. Can’t deny that. The script gives us an iconic character and sets him loose in the Outback and the urban sprawl of New York City. I’d watch Dundee do just about anything. I even have this horrifying fever dream of following the man to Los Angeles. One of the movie’s most inspired recurring bits, and one of my favorite aspects of the character is that he’s completely aware of his own legend. Totally in control of it. And when he’s introduced in the movie battling a fake crocodile, you wonder if he’s the real deal. People in the bar whisper slander about him. Maybe he’s a fraud? But no fraud leaps off a branch and stabs a crocodile in the fucking head. That’s legendary. Yet Dundee can’t help but inflate his own myth. He steals a glance at a watch, only to pretend he can read the sun. He quickly hides a razor to shave with his knife. I love these bits. And that kind of character depth provides insight into why this movie was (is? I'm not sure.) so beloved.

           

            Beyond Dundee, I enjoyed the local color of the Australian bar. Pour me a Foster’s and I’d lose myself in that boozer for days. But once we get to New York, the movie fades a bit. These writers are absolutely relentless with the fish-out-of-water jokes. Like they’ve got a “100 Funniest” joke book they’re obligated to work through. And, look, a few of those jokes really hit. One of them gives us the classic “That’s not a knife” scene. I’m just not sure we needed a thousand of them. To their credit, they don’t play Dundee as an idiot, but I find it hard to believe he’d be baffled by an escalator. He’s a human man from 1986. And Australia has actual cities. But New York also gives us Carl Winslow and that’s nice.

            Oh, yeah, it’s a romantic comedy. Ten year old me totally forgot about that. It’s so easy to get caught up in Paul Hogan, that the rest of the story kind of fades. And, I think, with good reason. There’s not much to this romance. I understand that Hogan and Linda Kozlowski got married in real life, but it seems strange because they don’t have much chemistry here. She’s a fine actress, and charming in her own right, but, together, they do nothing for me. The romantic comedy also gives us the obligatory jerky boyfriend. A guy who seems all right until the plot needs him to be a ridiculous stooge. But, we do get an absolutely delightful “run to the airport”, well, subway, scene out of it. And it’s so wonderful it nearly makes the movie better in retrospect. I guarantee it contributed to the movie’s wild success.

            What we’ve got here is a perfectly fun movie. One that I don’t believe has any business being called the “Best” anything. Okay, definitely best Paul Hogan starring vehicle. And probably one of the better examples of regressive 80’s politics being used for jokes. Not the best use of Carl Winslow, but close. Thanks, Die Hard. But a nice, pleasant movie. One I thoroughly enjoyed. And if you catch it without the weight of the Best Screenplay, or if you’re ten, I imagine it’d play a lot better. Which might explain its tremendous, franchise-spawning success. Not a lot of us out there blogging about Original Screenplays from 1986, I guess!

Good steal on the rankings, Big Game! So, by default –

1.  Crocodile Dundee

Oh, maybe steal this too? Overall! And, I want to clarify here that these a strictly how I’m looking at the scripts. Not the movies as a whole. Because I liked Dundee considerably more than either Lorenzo’s Oil or Passion Fish. But…writing.

1.     Unforgiven.

2.     Husbands and Wives

3.     The Crying Game

4.     Lorenzo’s Oil

5.     Passion Fish
6.   Crocodile Dundee

Crocodile Dundee by Big Game!

Crocodile Dundee

Story by Paul Hogan, Screenplay by John Cornell, Paul Hogan and Ken Shadie

With 1992, our first full year behind us, we turn to 1986 and a brand new adventure. And what better way to start than with possibly the most “huh?” screenwriting nominee of all-time, Crocodile Dundee. I mean, how the hell did this of all movies make it to the shortlist? Well, I guess that’s what we’re here to figure out, so let’s put way more thought into this movie than I ever, ever expected I would.

It’s tough figuring out where to start. It’s Crocodile Dundee! Is it really a great movie? Or was there just something in the air in the mid-80s? Us Yanks sure seemed infatuated with Australia back then. Mel Gibson was becoming a huge star, Yahoo Serious had a brief window of international popularity, and this movie was one of the biggest hits of the year. So this could be the Academy simply wanting to honor a big crowd-pleasing popcorn flick, but let’s not sell Crocodile Dundee too short.

The first thing I noticed about it was that it almost seems like an ego project at times. Mick “Crocodile” Dundee doesn’t appear until ten minutes in, and leading up to that we get a bunch of characters talking about how awesome he is. Given that Paul Hogan wrote the story himself and had a hand in the screenplay, maybe that’s not all that surprising, but it’s a relief when Mick finally shows up so we can see it firsthand. It turns out he is pretty awesome. He knows the Outback better than I know my own backyard and there’s something fun about watching him in complete control of every situation. He scares off the kangaroo poachers, he kills that crocodile, he’s in with the local Aborigine tribe. It’s decent setup for the eventual “fish-out-of-water” escapades he’ll endure in New York.

About that, it does take a long time to actually get him to New York, which is the hook of the entire movie, but it never stops being that kind of movie. The entire first half of the movie casts Sue in that role, with her just woefully out of place in the untamed wilderness. She needs Mick to help her survive out there, and she returns the favor when they go back to the city.

That’s really where the movie gets going, and where all of its more well-known moments come from.  Mick isn’t presented as an idiot or anything, just a man who’s never been to a city (not even Sydney or Melbourne) who’s a little out of his depth. The humor of watching him navigate this world is actually a lot tamer than I would have expected. He’s not throwing glasses on the floor like “Thor” or anything like that. He’s genuinely trying to fit in, at least for Sue’s sake. Even when people are giving him a hard time, like Sue’s “rich asshole” boyfriend, he tries his best to keep his composure before the Aussie in him takes over.

This may be the only Oscar-nominated movie ever where a limo driver (played by Carl Winslow! This guy was everywhere in the 80s!) rips the hood ornament off his car and throws it like a boomerang at a street punk. My point? This movie is silly. It’s almost aggressively likable, if a little dated. I mean, it was made in a time where a character could just casually throw around the word “fag” for a laugh. That’s not a word I would expect the kind-hearted Mick to be okay with, especially given his stance on foul language and disrespecting others. But I guess it was a different time? But it is “fun,” moreso than any of the movies from ’92 were.

I’m running out of things to say, but I have two more points. The first is, holy crap. This is a romantic comedy! I had no idea. That’s really what it’s all about. Sue invites Mick to New York because she’s into him and, in classic rom-com style, we find out her boyfriend Richard is kind of a dick, which makes it easy for us to root for Mick to win the girl. That last scene in the subway is actually super adorable, but it ends insanely abruptly. So… does she go back to Australia with him? Does he stay in New York? They’re from such thoroughly different worlds, it’s hard to buy them as a couple that will last.

And finally, Crocodile Dundee’s true legacy is that line.

“That’s not a knife… THAT is a knife.”

Of all the movies in the world, of all the screenplays, Crocodile Dundee is the first we’ve watched for this project that has a genuinely iconic line. Even if you’ve never seen this movie, you know this line. And you know what? It’s great! It’s a great character moment for him, and it demonstrates that “fish-out-of-water” scenarios don’t always have to place the protagonist at a disadvantage. I have a strong suspicion that, in spite of two sequels, that line is what has helped this movie survive. It’s a little strange. I’m still not convinced this goofy, harmless little flick warranted an Oscar nomination, but it certainly sticks with you.

So I’m definitely stealing the on-going rankings from you. I want to do it too! And so, by default…

1)      Crocodile Dundee

Next up is My Beautiful Laundrette, which I will be disappointed with if it doesn’t showcase Daniel Day-Lewis’s improvised boomerang skills.

The Crying Game - Mike!

The Crying Game

Written by Neil Jordan

And here we are. Our very first winner. The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences’ choice for the Best Original Screenplay of 1992. And what a doozy it is.

Something I know you and I had in common was that the only thing we knew about this movie going into it was the now-famous “twist” that made it one of the most talked about movies of the early 90s. I didn’t know what it was about. I didn’t know anything about the other characters. All I knew was that, to quote Mayor Quimby, “the chick from The Crying Game is actually a man! I mean, man! What a good movie!” So, naturally, I was so pumped to see if a movie would hold up at all if, going into it for the first time, I already knew it’s biggest secret.

There’s a lot to unravel here, really. There’s a lot going on in The Crying Game. It’s about a lot of things… loyalty, obsession, identity and, as the movie is always quick to point out, human nature. That’s one of my biggest gripes. The script kept beating me over the head with the “it’s my nature, it’s your nature” thing. I got it as soon as baby Forrest Whitaker told the Scorpion/Toad story in the beginning. It informs the rest of the movie, but I’m not stupid. Jody’s telling at the beginning, and Fergus’ telling at the very end would have been nice bookends if it didn’t come up so much.

Before I get too much into that, though, I gotta talk about that twist. Because of course. It’s like the entire point of the movie!... except that it kind of isn’t. So Jody appeals to Fergus’ good nature and convinces him to let him go. He dies anyway, in the movie’s demonstration of “the illusion of choice,” so Fergus keeps his promise to check in on Jody’s girl. He becomes completely obsessed with her, protects her from a violent suitor, walks her home, buys her drinks, etc. What’s fascinating about that big reveal is what it reveals about Fergus. Immediately, we know everything Jody deduced about him is correct. He’s loyal and sincere. He keeps his promise to Jody, and is able to admit to himself that he’s come to care for Dil anyway… maybe he just doesn’t know in what capacity.

Also, it’s a testament to script and Jaye Davidson’s performance that, even knowing the twist and actively noticing the clues that point to it, I was still able to get lost in the story and sometimes forget a twist was even coming, that Dil wasn’t anything other than what she presented herself as. I also loved the scene at the construction site, after Fergus makes his discovery, where Dil gently mocks him for not figuring it out sooner. “Really, the signs were all there, darling.” She’s giving us a hard time, too. Even in the bar, everything becomes obvious in hindsight when it becomes clear that ALL the women in that bar are trans. It’s a trans bar. You don’t notice earlier because the only other people there we’re told to focus on are Fergus, Dil’s asshole kind of boyfriend Dave, and Wonderful Bartender Jim Broadbent.

Let me get back to my point about the twist not being what The Crying Game is really about, at least plotwise, because it turns out it’s actually about a couple of militants from the IRA, who try to pull Fergus back into his old way of life. Which, man. This is a movie that uses the three-act structure to its fullest extent because it kind of feels like three different movies! It’s a hostage movie, then it’s a romance, then it’s ticking time bomb thriller. I never felt like the movie was disjointed though, as it all comes together kind of beautifully in that climax. As Dil becomes more unhinged as her identity begins to slip away from her, almost killing Fergus, killing the FUCK out of Miranda Richardson, then almost killing herself… I don’t know. I was genuinely on the edge of my seat. “I’m afraid you forgot to knock, darling,” might be one of my favorite pre-gunshot quotes now.

Loved the little epilogue, too. I almost wanted to call it a cop-out, but I realized it really tied the whole thing together. Fergus wanted to escape his past, and Dil just wanted to be accepted for who she was, and that’s why they needed each other. It doesn’t matter if they become actual lovers, or just stay as close friends, because, I guess, that’s what The Crying Game is actually about.

And that closes out 1992. I didn’t do ongoing rankings like you, but I’ll do one to wrap it up.

1)      The Crying Game

2)      Unforgiven

3)      Husbands and Wives

4)      Lorenzo’s Oil

5)      Passion Fish

There we have it.

Danny's on Dick Watch

            Okay, there’s no avoiding this, The Crying Game has a twist. And it’s been parodied and referenced so often, it’s nearly impossible to go into this movie pure.  Had no idea what the movie was about, but damn it, I knew there was a dick in it. Initially, I’ll admit, I was on “dick watch”. Just looking for that dick. I was looking for bulges everywhere. Each pair of jeans, a potential hiding place. Thankfully, the movie’s considerably better than it’s purported twist and the consequent dick.

           

            With that out of the way, The Crying Game is an odd little film. Maybe that’s why its twist became shorthand to describe it.  But I’d argue the biggest twist at play here is the constant genre shuffling – from a wartime buddy movie, to romantic drama and, finally, into a political thriller. It’s a testament to writer and director Neil Jordan’s considerable talent that he was able to make these disparate elements come together. And what’s most interesting is that they aren’t blended, like, say, a Tarantino movie. There are hard lines here. Once it’s a thriller, the romance is gone. And in come the thrills. It’s an impressive feat, and one pretty rarely attempted.

            So, let’s look at it in chunks. The Wartime Buddy Comedy. This movie doesn't have the greatest opening. Maybe it was the dick watch. Maybe it was Whitaker’s weirdly voiced over performance. But it wasn’t clicking at all. Of course, none of those are the scripts fault. And once the movie settles into the rhythms of their conversations, the writing's able to shine without any formal distractions. I started to like these guys. I started to enjoy hanging out with them. And then Whitaker is crushed to death by a car.

           

            Romantic drama. This one’s a bit more problematic for me. Because I’m not entirely sure why Fergus is so drawn to Dil. I’m guessing we’re supposed to buy into the idea that it’s just…love. They’re made for each other. And, listen, I like Dil. She’s got a flirty forwardness that’s fun to watch and her interactions with Carl the bartender are a movie highlight for me. A little off topic, but I need Carl to be my bartender. And if this movie turned into Fergus’s fierce desire to be Carl’s regular, to be able to order “the usual, Carl”, I’d be way more on board. But as it stands, I just don’t feel Fergus and Dil. And it’s not an acting issue, or a filmmaking thing. Top notch, across the board. It’s inherent in the material. Boldly romantic and brazenly sexual.  And in movie-land, those can often function as substitutes for a realistic relationship. But here, while I enjoy the performances, the romance just doesn’t work for me.

           

            So, I guess now’s the time to chat about the twist. Since I don’t really buy into the romance, it’s difficult to buy into the idea that Fergus would continue the relationship. But the story says he does, so he does. Beyond that, here’s what I love about this mid-movie turn – it effectively recontextualizes everything before it. I re-played the first half of the movie in my head through so much of the second half, that I probably need to watch the whole thing again. Suddenly, all of that time spent hanging out with Whitaker wasn’t just an unlikely friendship. It was a romance. When Whitaker calls Fergus “handsome”, it wasn’t some mocking term. He meant it. The pissing scene goes from funny to flirty. In my notes, I wrote that the scene where Fergus walks Whitaker to his death had a sort of “childhood innocence” to it. The way Whitaker kept talking about cricket. Kept teasing Fergus. Only, it wasn’t childhood innocence. That was first date jitters. In a way, the turn helps sell the central romance because maybe Fergus never truly loved Dil. It was always Whitaker. At least that would explain the wonderful Forest Whitaker Ghost Cricket scenes.

            Finally, we’ve got our Political Thriller. Really appreciated this turn, as it dug the movie out of its romantic phase and turned it into a taut thriller. Probably the least interesting section, but certainly the most fun. Don’t have much to say here. They kill a judge or something. Some pretty brutal violence. This section also solidifies the theme of fluid identity, with everyone slipping in and out of roles. But, like the Frog and Scorpion (people know there are other fables, right?) tells us, you can’t deny your true nature. So this brazen, bold movie ends in a bloody shootout, with the ever-kind Fergus taking the fall for his lover. Then they play “Stand by Your Man”. And it’s on the nose, but, come on, you have to play that song, right? I mean, you don’t make a slippery movie about gender politics and not play that song! Speaking of, does this movie hate women? It’s hard to tell. The only woman we’re shown is pretty cruel. And, accordingly, everyone hates her. It might be an unfair read though, because that’s simply not what the movie’s about. And characters can be cruel, man or woman, without commenting on an entire gender.

            The Crying Game goes on to win Best Screenplay of 1992. I think it’s the right choice. I don’t love this movie. It’s not even my favorite of the year. But, man, it’s a killer script. And so, so smart. A script about shifting identity that constantly shifts it’s own? Fucking cool. A script that causes you to rethink the entire thing halfway through? Fucking cool. And, man, that twist.

I know, I know. I keep harping. But there’s one more thing I wanna talk about. It’s 2015. I find it extremely hard to believe I wouldn’t have known Dil was a man, even if I didn’t know it already. She’s a pretty man, sure, but maybe the eyes of 2015 are simply more sensitive. Maybe they’re just more trained. Maybe Ru Paul’s Drag Race is just too popular. So let’s say it’s 1992. And it really catches you off guard. You were attracted to Dil. Totally pulled in by the romance. Then, dick. That must have really been something. It could cause you to reevaluate everything you know about your gender identity. As it turns out, you could be attracted to a man. You could even fall in love. That must have been a powerful moment for a lot of people. And it’s sitting right there in the middle of this script.

The award went to a truly unique, strange movie in 1992. And it became a huge hit, which may be the strangest part of all. For me, there’s a tonal disconnect on this one. The grand gestures, the big moments, they don’t really play, which keeps the movie at a distance for me. I couldn’t get close to this one. But it’s impressive. And I’ve got tremendous respect for it, even if I don’t love it.

So! My final list for 1992!

1.     Unforgiven.

2.     Husbands and Wives

3.     The Crying Game

4.     Lorenzo’s Oil

5.     Passion Fish

Danny is Unforgiven

           With Unforgiven we’re dealing with our eventual best picture winner. And of all the movies we’ve taken a look at so far, this one feels “movie-est”. It feels the least like a great screenplay screaming out from a good movie. Which isn’t to say the other movies were lesser, just that this one needs that big screen, that big sound. When people think of movies, they don’t think of chatty relationship comedies or character studies, they think of Clint Eastwood. And, damn, does Unforgiven have some Clint Eastwood.

            Of course, we’re taking a look at screenplays here. And there’s an element to this project that feels a little disingenuous since we’re not actually reading the screenplays. With this approach, it’s nearly impossible not to take the whole movie into consideration. But, scripts are meant to be movies, right? So what better way to evaluate them? I guess? Self-justification complete.

            With that in mind, I think David Webb Peoples delivers something special here. I’d seen this move before, and only remembered two things: Gene Hackman is a monster and Clint Eastwood. But I’d forgotten how the movie takes time to really develop this small town. In my memory, this is a movie about Eastwood on the prowl. But it’s really not. I mean, it’s about that, sure. But it’s also about this town and the people in it. And the screenplay splits its time accordingly.

Like Passion Fish, you get the feeling that each of these characters leads full, rich lives. And if you ask, I’m sure English Bob or Little Bill would be more than happy to elaborate. Only the backstories aren’t limited to the gunslingers, Strawberry Alice possesses an inner-strength that clearly has history. Ned Logan married a native, and based on the look she gives Eastwood, I’d watch a comedy where Ned invites Eastwood to Christmas dinner. Even the cowboy who cuts up the girl has friends who care about him. And while what he did was horrific, the movie goes on to justify it – reputation is everything in this world.

            And for proof, here’s how we’re introduced to Eastwood: “You don’t look like no rootin’ tootin’ son of a bitch cold blooded assassin.” Okay, so, he’s awesome, right? Not awesome enough, because that quote is followed by a list of all the bad ass shit Eastwood’s done. And it’s a long list. English Bob hires a biographer to secure his legacy. And Little Bill’s reputation is so fearsome he can govern an entire town based on it. Scofield kid has no past, so he just makes one up. And, holy shit, does every character like to talk about the past. They absolutely revel in it. Stories of a bygone error, tall tales and on and on…

            Initially, this bothered me. There’s just so much talking. It’s all these old guys telling stories that sound so much more interesting than the movie we’re actually watching. And Eastwood’s character can be an absolute drag. I tried to count the number of times he uttered a variation on “I’m a changed man”, but my pen ran out of ink. And my hand got tired. And somewhere, a man died. We get it, Clint, you’ve changed. Yes, Little Bill, you’re a tough son of a bitch.

            But about two-thirds in, I realized what was going on. These men weren’t telling the audience anything we didn’t already know. This wasn’t exposition being poured on. They were talking to themselves.  Eastwood needed to believe he’d changed, so he just kept saying it, hoping it’d be true. Little Bill needed to know he was the meanest there ever was, so he just says it. In that context, I think the characters really reveal themselves. They’re just men living on words now. Their days of action are behind them.

            Until they aren’t, of course. Which brings us to the absolutely masterful final scene. We’ve built these two men, Eastwood and Little Bill into legends. We’ve seen what Bill can do. We’ve heard of Eastwood’s deeds. Now, he’s hitting the bottle again, reverting to some dark past. Bill’s putting together a posse. We’re in for a showdown. Figure we settle in for chase. A gunfight. Some posturing. Nope. Cause Eastwood just fucking shows up! And KILLS EVERYONE. And it’s so great. It’s the perfect payoff for all the stories, all the chattering about the past. Eastwood was never gonna call Bill out. Have a gunfight at noon. Be on the run from some dumb posse. He was going to ride into town and fucking blow everyone away. And when he does, it’s the best. And it’s so, so earned.

            Which brings us to the movie’s central question – did Eastwood ever change? While I find those title cards that bookend the movie an odd touch, they provide a glimpse into the answer. He loved his wife. That’s clear. And it seems no one understands why she loved him. But in Eastwood’s relationship with Ned and the brief conversation with the cut up prostitute, we’re given a few pieces to the puzzle that is Eastwood (listen, I know the character has a name, but, it’s Clint Eastwood). He’s unbelievably loyal. Probably to a fault. He’s tuned into emotions and feels deeply. He just lives in harsh times. Times when loyalty to the wrong men lead to evil, and feeling deeply can get you killed. I think his wife saw he was a fundamentally good person, and was able to channel his innate qualities into very different type of man. One she could love. But those same qualities can shoot up an entire saloon. Or sell dry goods in San Francisco, apparently.  Hey, he’s a complicated man. He’s Clint Eastwood.

           SIDE NOTE: I loved the brief English Bob interlude. He was such a fun character. With a nice build up. I understand, for this movie’s purposes, why Little Bill had to crush him so quickly, but I wanted more Bob. I wanted to see him do cool shit. And I can’t help but feel Sam Raimi felt the same way. He must have thought, “What if there was a whole fucking town of English Bob’s”? Then he made The Quick and the Dead. And he figured no one could be Gene Hackman better than Gene Hackman, so fuck it, and cast him. I guess what I’m saying is, The Quick and the Dead is sweet.

Finally, my list!

1. Unforgiven
2. Husbands and Wives
3. Lorenzo's Oil
4. Passion Fish