Idiot Boxing: Black Monday, seasons 1 and 2 (2019-2020)

A raucous comedy in the vein of Veep or In the Thick of It, but set among the jungle that was Wall Street stockbroker firms in the wild era of Reagan's unregulated 1980s. Unfortunately, it eventually suffers from some of the same weaknesses as its main executive producers' other shows and movies.

Set in the late 1980s mostly on Wall Street in Manhattan, we follow the fictional, wild and rebellious trading firm The Jammer Group, headed up by the brash and bombastic Maurice "Mo" Monroe (Don Cheadle). Exactly a year before the historically brutal stock market crash in October of 1987, Mo and his partner Dawn (Regina Hall) use shady means to hire the fresh-faced, aspiring young broker Blair Pfaff (Andrew Rannells). Pfaff, though a wide-eyed neophyte to the cut-throat world of the New York Stock Exchange, is engaged to the heiress of a massive denim empire which Mo and Dawn hope to acquire. This is just the first in countless underhanded schemes and plots that various greedy parties concoct in order to amass wealth. The first season ends with the market crash of 1987, while the second season follows most of the characters through the following year, as they deal with the massive fallout from the crash. Every step of the way, these financial predators do copious amounts of cocaine and hurl infinite crushing insults at each other.

I really liked the first season, but the second one flagged a bit for me. Maybe even to the point that I won't bother with any future seasons.

Anyone who watched Black Monday can't help but think of the Martin Scorsese film The Wolf of Wall Street, which also depicts much of the same unbridled greed and monstrous behavior of certain NYSE brokerage firms through the 1980s, '90s, and early 2000s. This show very much taps into that same vein, depicting the mad circus that can surround the ravenous pursuit of money. Tonally, the show usually operates on the same wavelength as the brilliant HBO show Veep, and it is clearly at its best when it does. The pop-culture-laced, lightning-quick, and ruthless insults really are the best thing about the show's writing, along with the constant reminders of just how garish tastes and fashion were at the time. As long as your OK with quick, clever jokes that are inappropriate in nearly every way imaginable, then you're bound to get some laughs.

The show does a good job early on of depicting the off-the-
charts stress and the merciless heckling that goes on within
Wall Street trading firms.

The acting is also great, most obviously from one of my favorites, Don Cheadle. Cheadle has long shown his incredible acting range, and Black Monday utilizes plenty of it. As Mo Monroe, he's usually a fast-talking, charming conman, but he also has moments of gravity. Or at the very least, brilliantly feigned gravity in order to manipulate someone. The muscles he gets to flex most on this show are his comic timing and subtle comic gestures. As with many of his roles, he just commands your attention, even when he's seemingly not "doing" anything in a particular moment or scene. Equally impressive is Regina Hall as his partner, Dawn. I only really knew Hall from seeing her in Girls' Trip last year, but I hope to see her in more as she seems to have that same kind of acting agility that the very best possess. And throughout the show are plenty of other recognizable comic actors, such as Paul Scheer, Ken Marino, Horatio Sanz, and others, all of whom play their roles well.

Keith and Mo, backed up by a pair of roller-blading thugs
while they negotiate with cocaine dealers in Miami. This was
the prelude to one of the several shockingly violent sequences
in season two. I didn't find any of them particularly funny.

So with these clear strengths, why might I jump ship? Basically, the tone of the show just started getting muddled throughout the second season, mostly by oddly dark or graphically violent little turns. This is something I've felt about several of the other shows and movies associated with partners and executive co-producers Seth Rogan and Evan Goldberg. Whether in the stoner comedy Pineapple Express, the dictator-lampooning The Interview, or comic-based fantasy show Preacher, these two genuinely funny fellows have often injected shock value into their productions where none was needed. Or at the very least, they've not always gotten the balance or the execution quite right. With Black Monday, the first season was very much like Veep, which always had a perfect sense of itself: never trying to be genuinely dramatic or overly serious in any way. Any only once or twice did I ever feel like the darkness overwhelmed the comedy. In the second season of Black Monday, though, we get a brutally, realistically bloody gunfight in a bank that kills multiple people, we have a horrifically crippled and disfigured rival of Mo slouching and slurring around offices, and some flat-out bizarrely twisted humor centering on incest. I like to think I'm a person who can laugh at a good joke about anything, as long as the joke is actually clever enough. Here, as with other shows of theirs, I think Rogan, Goldberg, and the other producers and writers mistook "shocking" for "funny" a few too many times. And the balance got noticeably worse towards the end of the second season, with more and more off-color and, in my view, unfunny gags.

If and when the show kicks off a third season next year, I may dip back in, to see if it's righted its course a bit. I hope so, since I enjoy the cast and a decent amount of the writing. But if I tune in and the first episodes offer me suicides and gory tragedies, like the second season did, then I'm out. 

New Release! The Art of Self-Defense (2019)

No Spoilers. Read Away!

Director: Riley Stearns

A highly effective dark comedy in the vein of Repo Man, Sorry to Bother You, and other great social satires that create their own worlds around a single young man being suffocated by the warped worlds that surround them.

Jesse Eisenberg plays Casey, a rather quiet, skittish accountant who lives alone with his dachshund and does his best to stay out of other people's way. After being brutally mugged and nearly killed one night by a roving band of motorcycle thugs, Casey decides to take up karate at a local dojo. The dojo is run by an extremely intense trainer, known to us only as "Sensei" (Alessandro Nivola), who feels that karate contains everything that one requires to live a fulfilling life. The rather impressionable Casey quickly devotes himself to the dojo, growing ever more confident and violent as he continues to train. As he rises in the esteem of Sensei, however, it becomes clear that there is something much darker going on at the dojo and among some of its students.

This movie won't be for everyone, just like any dark satire. It operates on its own wavelength, simplifying and distilling its elements in order to create an altered reality which is clearly not meant to be an accurate representation of the world which we really live in. Like any good satire, though, it does an excellent job in honing in on the subject of its commentary - in this case, toxic masculinity - and giving us plenty of great laughs along the way. One just needs to realize that the humor is very much of a satirical nature: dark, dry, and making liberal use of oversimplifying very real facets of society in order to draw us down the paths of their logical conclusions.

Casey, under the tutelage of his eerily intense sensei, puts
everything he has into becoming a lethal practitioner of
karate. This includes hard work and listening to metal.

Like any well done satire, this movie isn't for everyone. In fact, I could tell that more than a few viewers around my wife and me seemed a bit perplexed by the film. "I thought this was supposed to be a comedy," stated one semi-confused fellow. And more than once, my wife and I were among only a few people laughing at what, to us, were obviously meant to be moments of dark humor.  If one isn't picking up the vibe of the movie, it will seem very strange; twisted, even. For those who lock in, though, it provides some thoughtful commentary and plenty of laughs to go along with the rather brutal and violent shocks.

As an aside, we were treated to a post-show Q-and-A with the Austin-based writer/director Riley Stearns (very much to my wife's and my surprise), and he seemed a very thoughtful, talented, and rather grounded young director. I'll be keeping my eyes out for what he does next, as The Art of Self-Defense is a really strong piece of work. 

Idiot Boxing, HBO shows: Barry, season 1 (2018); Silicon Valley, season 5 (2018)

Barry, season 1 (2018)

An excellent dark comedy from the mind of Bill Hader and Alex Berg.

The show follows the eponymous Barry Berkman (Hader), a former marine-turned-hitman who lives in Cleveland and shows signs of detached depression. This begins to change when Barry is sent to Hollywood on a job, where he inadvertently finds himself catching the acting bug after seeing a run-of-the-mill acting class in progress. The maladjusted Barry begins to try and dip his toes in the waters of the self-obsessed and artificial world of aspiring actors, all while trying to divest himself from his excessively violent occupation.

Hader as Barry (left) and Henry Winkler as his dramatic
acting teacher, Gene Cousineau. Unlike Gene and his
oblivious classmates, Barry comes by his haunted look and
demeanor all too honestly.

In a recent interview, show star and co-creator Bill Hader said that he and fellow creator Alex Berg pitched the Barry character to HBO as "Clint Eastwood's character in Unforgiven, but in a community theater acting class." And that's a pretty good description of what you get here. Like Eastwood's Will Munney character in that Western classic, Barry is a truly tortured man will a preternatural skill for assassination. Seeing such a dark and disturbed man in the middle of an acting class is bound to go one of two ways: be a completely awkward and potentially offensive disaster, or make for genius black comedy. Barry is clearly the latter.

There are a few reasons that black comedies are rare. One is that, while well-done dark comedies have dedicated fans, they simply don't appeal to a mass audience. Hence, there simply isn't a great profit motive out there for major TV networks and movie studios to support them. The greater reason, though, is that they are extremely difficult to pull off. Dark subject matter like violent death, murder, and depression don't typically mesh well with humor. And yet, when handled correctly, it really makes its mark. Movies like Dr. Strangelove or Fargo show that one can laugh at the most horrific circumstances if the story is told with the correct tone and approach. Barry follows in the footsteps of those other great films and gives us a sometimes disturbing look at what amounts to a severely - possibly irredeemably - damaged, murderous human being. And it can be hilarious.

In short, the most imposing darkness is seeded deep within Barry - a former marine who seems to have never been good at anything but killing. And he's frighteningly good at it. Other dark elements are to be found in the words and actions of some of his associates - his main contact Fuches (Stephen Root), the Chechnyan gangsters he works with, and a few others. The comedy springs mostly from two places. One is the contrast between the ridiculously out-of-touch and self-involved actors in the acting class Barry finds himself enamored of and his own all-too authentic pain and mental distress. Another is from the oft-hapless Chechnyans and their bumbling through the process of trying to make their mark on the criminal underworld of Hollywood. Not every character or situation is as funny as I think it was meant to be, but there are plenty of great laughs to be had, along with a handful of truly disturbing murders.

The cast is great, with special mention needed for Henry Winkler. The man who is probably still best-known as "The Fonz" from Happy Days in the 1970s once again shows his pure comedic chops here as Gene Cousineau, the acting instructor with hilariously outsized confidence. Thanks to great writing and Winkler's brilliant performance, Cousineau quickly becomes one of those characters who threaten to steal nearly every scene they're in, and Winkler usually does. All of the other parts are played well, too, though I did find the character NoHo Hank overly silly most of the time.

I'm not sure just how long the writers will be able to spin this tale out, but there's definitely still enough material for another short season (this one was a mere eight episodes). It has already been renewed, and I'm happy to know it.


Silicon Valley, season 5 (2018)

Still one of the best comedies on TV.

And then there were four. Though Erlich Bachman's absence
may be conspicuous in the first episode or two, I found that
the bombastic character was hardly missed. The rest of the
crew, plus Monica Hall, easily picked up any slack.

Season 5 of the show picks up with Richard Hendricks (Thomas Middleditch) and his Pied Piper crew trying to get their "New Internet," or "Pipernet," truly off the ground after their near-disastrous program leak at the end of season four. The fledgling company's issue now is how to find enough up-and-coming online companies to get the necessary usage to kick-start the entire thing. It all involves a high level of salesmanship and hobnobbing - two things that are far from the painfully awkward Richard's forte. As with previous seasons, the main Pied Piper crew of Richard, Dinesh, Gilfoyle, and Jarod have to navigate through and around the predatory environment of Silicon Valley and its vicious raiders. The carrot dangling is that the New Internet, if it can get far enough off the ground to achieve a certain exit velocity, could potentially dwarf any online revolution that the world has ever seen. And that potential prize attracts a lot of envious and thoroughly unscrupulous eyes.

The general arc of this season follows a path similar to previous ones: the guys have a grand idea that they're trying to get off the ground, they meet various difficulties along the way, and they triumph in some fashion. But also in keeping with tradition, Pied Piper's triumph is often in a fashion that none of its members quite expect, and it often opens up new issues that they hadn't yet anticipated. It's a time-tested formula that show creators Mike Judge and Alex Berg have perfected. Even though it's nothing especially novel, the journey is well worth it, thanks mostly to the characters.

This season is right on par with any previous ones, despite being only eight episodes (all previous seasons have been ten). I also didn't miss, for a moment, T.J. Miller as Erlich Bachman, who was written off the show for well-publicized issues with the show-runners. For my part, I often found the Erlich character more of a nuisance, although he did provide some solid laughs thanks to Miller's spot-on performance as the insanely overconfident braggart. But he was always used best very sparingly. Now that he is completely gone (the character is lazing in a never-ending opium stupor somewhere in Tibet). The rest of the cast more than picks up the slack. Kumail Nanjiani ratchets up the desperation as Dinesh, madly looking for any opportunity to show off the slightest bit of success, while his in-office arch-nemesis Gilfoyle (Martin Starr) continues to stoically and relentlessly egg him on. The seventh episode of the season is actually one of the greatest "Gilfoyle" episodes ever, as he fires off multiple fantastic digs and observations. And as usual, Zach Woods kills it as Donald 'Jared' Dunn, the soft-spoken but oddly intense Chief Operating Officer with a wild past. It was also nice to see a return of the Monica Hall character by season's end - a more prominent character in the first couple of seasons but who had faded in seasons three and four.

The only way one could say that this show is slowing down is merely in the 20% reduction in episodes. Aside from that, the series is an astounding five-for-five, with not a single season being anything less than great. Season six can't get here soon enough. 

Idiot Boxing: Brockmire, season 1 (2017); Archer, season 8 (2017)

Brockmire, season 1 (2017)

I wasn't completely sure that the concept behind this show would carry an entire season, but it fortunately proved me wrong. Credit to Hank Azaria and the writers for taking a funny little short sketch and expanding into a larger world and narrative that maintains it humor well beyond its humble origins on Funny or Die.

Brockmire follows the titular baseball announcer attempting a comeback after an all-time great fall from fame. The show opens with this very fall: it's 2007 and Kent Brockmire is doing play-by-play for the Kansas City Royals, where he has done the job for many years. As usual, he is imbibing alcohol during his broadcast, but unlike previous ones, this time Brockmire confesses to the entire listening audience that he had just earlier that day walked in on his wife having an orgy. This triggers a full-blown, on-the-air, profanity-laden meltdown that leads to Brockmire's dismissal and eventual departure from the United States altogether. Flash forward to 2017. Brockmire arrives in a fictionalized version of Morristown, Pennsylvania, where he has been offered a gig as the public address announcer for the Morristown Frackers, a bottom of the barrel minor league team in an impoverished, burned out town of no consequence. Although he wants to try to work his way back to the big leagues, Brockmire still carries with him virtually every vice known to mankind.

The show is a great vehicle for "man of a million voices" Hank Azaria, probably best known for his over-a-dozen characters on the Simpsons (including Moe, Apu, Chief Wiggum, and tons of others), delivers that classic, smooth-as-silk and overly polished pipes of the classic baseball broadcasters in the vein of Vin Scully. Hearing that American-as-apple-pie voice delivering some of the degenerate and self-reviling existential musings of a broken man is just as funny as you think it might be. There are a few moments when the show almost veers too far into depression to make a successful turn back, but it always manages to end on humorous notes.

At the end of a long, beer-soaked baseball/drinking game,
Jules, Brockmire, and Charles celebrate a big win.

If Azaria and the Brockmire character were all there was to the show, it would probably wear thin pretty quickly. Fortunately, the supporting cast and characters are almost equally entertaining. Amanda Peet plays Jules James, the owner of the Frackers who is desperate to keep the pathetic team alive as one of the few emotional buoys in the failed town. Jules is nearly as depraved as Brockmire, able to keep up with his immense appetites for booze and sex, making them quite the pair. Then there's Charles, the goofy, nerdy, millennial kid who assists Brockmire in the booth (and who knows and cares little about baseball). The play between the two is often gold.

The structure of the show is solid, as well. Almost every episode is a flashback to a period during Brockmire's dark decade - the 10 year period between 2007 and 2017, when he was off the grid calling oddball sporting events in foreign countries. While also hilarious, these manage to flesh out the character a little more. And rather than just be eight episodes of Brockmire spewing raunchy observations, which would get somewhat tired, there is an actual arc to the season. Human drama is hardly the point of the show, but it does offer a welcome touch of depth.

Final verdict is that the wife and I liked it (and the wife isn't always on board with shows about sports and the disgusting characters who populate the world of sports). Thanks to some sharp writing and all-in performances by the cast, I'm looking forward to the second season, already scheduled for next year.


Archer, season 8 (2017)

The theme of season 8 draws deep from the vast well of
noir tales from the '40s and '50s. 

After playing catchup on this series by binging the first seven seasons over the course of a few months, this was the first season that I watched as it aired. For the most part, I wasn't disappointed.

Being subtitled "Dreamland", season 8 picks up directly after the cliffhanger ending of season 7, and we now have Sterling in a coma. Using the brilliant device from the classic 1980s British crime TV series The Singing Detective, this season takes place almost completely inside Sterling's mind, wherein he plays a version of himself in the Los Angeles of late 1940s noir cinema. Instead of a spy, he is a private detective and World War II veteran who tries to track down the killers of his partner, Woodhouse (who in his real life was his horribly abused butler). The other regular characters of the show are now altered versions of themselves, each now occupying a role typical of the noir films and novels. Cyril is now a stuffy, crooked cop, Lana is an undercover U.S. Treasury agent, Pam (who is, hilariously, a man in Archer's coma dream), and all of the other characters see similar shifts, including Malory as a crime lord known conveniently as "Mother."

The show features all of the lightning-quick zingers and depravity of the previous seven seasons, but there are so many extra layers to be enjoyed for fans of noir fiction. True to the genre, there is an overly complicated plot, made only the more complex by the various characters' bungling and idiocy. A little off-beat spice is added by including Kruger as a former Nazi scientist conducting his typically insane experiments, perhaps as a tip of the cap to the emerging popularity of the science-fiction genre in the late 1940s.

The real-world Pam, known only as Poovey in Archer's
coma dream, is now a male cop. It's one of the better
alternative takes on what is one of my favorite characters
in the show's entire run. 

I will say that this season was perhaps not quite as thoroughly satisfying as some of its predecessors. Part of this is due to the season's brevity - only eight episodes as opposed to the normal 13 or even 10 of seasons one through seven. There are also a few gags and sequences that don't quite hit, which is a little surprising given the smaller number of episodes. The expected trade-off of a shorter season is that the writing will be even tighter than more protracted seasons, but such is not quite the case here.

The only other minor disappointment for me with this season was that it did not end with the typical lead-in to the next season. Given the atypical, fantasy nature of this arc, I was fully expecting to get at least a quick teaser for what season nine might have in store. Alas, it was not to be. I suppose we fans of the show will simply have to wait and guess at what direction the show will take next. Regardless, I'll be ready and eager for it. 

Before I Die # 552: The Ladykillers (1955)

This is the 552nd of the 1,162 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Alexander Mackendrick

A fairly amusing dark comedy, though not as thoroughly entertaining as I had hoped.

I had seen the misguided 2004 Coen Brothers remake, so I knew the basic story. The original is set in 1950s London, England, where a group of thieves pose as musicians who practice their string quartet in the home of the elderly and somewhat loopy Mrs. Wilberforce. They are led by the abundantly sinister Professor Marcus (Alec Guinness), whose master plan involves using Mrs. Wilberforce's home, conveniently situated just above the train station, as a headquarters for a daring robbery of an incoming delivery of cash. The heist initially goes as planned, but things go awry when Mrs. Wilberforce learns of the larceny before the crooks can get the money away from the house. This forces the thieves into the grim conclusoin that Mrs. Wilberforce must be eliminated, permanently. The rest of the movie is comprised of the group deciding who will kill her and how the dark deed will be done.

While that description may sound like a horribly macabre story, rest assured that it is merely the stuff of black humor. This is a great concept, and it is not difficult to see why the Coen Brothers decided to try their hand at updating it. Alas, though the original is certainly far better than the 2004 remake, I did find it a chore to watch much of the time. Many of the scenes and situations smack of a comedy sketch that goes on a bit longer than necessary, and most of the characters, while amusing in theory and stature, lack enough memorable dialogue to make a real mark.

This crew had a lot more potential than was met, especially
given the acting talents involved.

The movie was even more of a disappointment after I had seen the name Peter Sellers in the opening credits. Though quite young at the time, he would go on to become an absolute legend of comedy, so I was hoping for an early look at this budding genius. Alas, there was nothing in the performance that demanded any of Sellers's prodigious comic talents. His character, Harry, was only mildly amusing, and it could have been played by any one of countless other actors. With so much hindsight, it seems to be one of the most obvious wastes of talent that one is likely to find. While the other characters were more interesting in theory, they were never given the script to bring the humor to life.

Now having seen them both, it seems like the original and remake were two parts of a potentially greater whole. The original had the set-up and casting right, whereas the 2004 version misfired on setting and some casting. Conversely, the 2004 version understood how to punch up the dark humor, especially when the bodies start piling up, while the original couldn't maintain the comedic element consistently. An even better comparison lies in the 1949 movie Kind Hearts and Coronets, which also starred Alec Guinnes in a variety of roles. That earlier movie is a case study in dark humor, and The Ladykillers of 1955 might have been better had it taken a few lessons from it.

For those who like dark British humor, this is worth a watch, though I would advise tempered expectations.

That's 552 movies down. Only 610 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #517: Muriel's Wedding (1994)

This is the 517th film that I've watched out of the 1,149 on the "Before You Die" lists.

Director: P. J. Hogan

You look at the title and movie poster and think "rom com," right? Well, you'd be dead wrong. Muriel's Wedding is immensely more creative and bold than any rom com would or probably could be.

Muriel (acting chameleon Toni Collette in a breakout role) is a sad sack 20-something who embodies the stereotypical "loser," as branded by the youthful social elite of the 1980s and '90s. She is frumpy, socially awkward, and desperately clings to the "cool girls" that she knew from high school. Her home life is dominated by an overbearing, bullying, career-obsessed politician father, and a mother and siblings who have been beaten into apathy about their own lives. Muriel's only solace comes from listening to ABBA songs and dreaming of one day having a monumental wedding ceremony.

Yes, that is, indeed, Toni Collette in the middle, as Muriel.
This is her in the early stages of the film, at her tackiest
and most pathetic, book-ended by her tormentors.

Things start to go along a different path when Muriel decides to abscond with $12,000 of her father's money and treat herself to an island vacation, where she meets a former high school classmate (Juliet Lewis look-alike, Rachel Griffiths). The two decide to cut loose and move to Syndey on the sly, completely reinventing themselves and aiming to have a grand old time. What follows includes literal paralysis, a marriage of convenience to an aspiring Olympic swimmer, friends lost, regained, and then lost again, and a general whirlwind of both admirable and detestable actions and emotions.

The movie never goes quite where you expect it to, though it always remains either humorous, touching, tragic, or a unique combination of the three. I suppose one could lump this into the "chick flick" category easily enough, but it is one that clearly stands out from the rest for its willingness to go to some very dark places in the human mind and soul. Several of the main characters end up showing unexpected complexity and depth, while others induce unforeseen sympathy. These stand out all the more for being in the midst of some of the most garish, tackiest costumes and location sets that one could imagine.

Muriel's Wedding is one-of-a-kind, to be sure. I wouldn't expect everyone to like it, but anyone with a slightly dark or twisted sense of humor should find more than a few things to enjoy in this singular movie. I did.

So that's 517 down. Only 632 more films from the list to see before I die...

Film #62: Ostre sledovane vlaky (1966)

Title for us English-speaking Types: Closely Watched Trains

Director: Jiri Menzel

Initial Release Country: Czechoslovakia

Times Previously Seen: none

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Young, newly-minted train station operator passes boring hours by obsessing about losing his virginity. Backs into involvement in a World War.

Extended Summary (A more complete plot synopsis, serious spoilers included. Fair warning.)

Towards the final months of World War II, in the middle of Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia, the young Milos Hrma is taking a major step in life – he is preparing for his first job. While his mother helps him don the fresh uniform of a train station dispatcher, Milos mulls over his family history, which is not exactly glowing. Milos seems to come from a long line of duty-shirkers, layabouts, delusionals, and generally disagreeable loafers.

Milos Hrma. Not exactly the sharpest tool in Czechoslovakia's shed.

On his first day on the job, the skinny and shy Milos absorbs his new workplace and workmates. The station is in shoddy repair, being connected to the station master's home and farm. The master himself spends as much time tending chickens as doing his job. Milos' immediate superior is the calm, affable, and randy Hubicka. Hubicka uses the many quiet hours on the job to seduce any attractive woman within sight.

Hubicka readily takes the wide-eyed Milos under his wing and starts to show him the ropes. The actual job is laughably simple and dull, which leaves plenty of time for Hubicka to start asking after Milos' love life. Milos has a girlfriend of sorts – a young, pretty train assistant named Masa – though they are yet to consummate anything. Milos is made all-too aware of this as he sees the savvy Hubicka bed several women while on duty, which inflames Milos' libido even more.

Opportunity comes when Masa invites Milos to stay at her uncle's house/photo shop. Masa makes strong advances on Milos, but Milos sullenly and strangely turns away. Not understanding the rebuff, Masa returns to her own bed. Early the next morning, a bomb attack blows down the house Milos is in. No one is hurt, but the house is destroyed.

Later that day, Milos checks into a hotel and attempts suicide. He is found and saved by a hotel worker, and sent to a hospital. While there, he explains himself to the doctor. It turned out that he had suffered impotence or premature ejaculation, which was why he did not have sex with Masa when he had the chance. He thought that this equaled a lack of manhood – something that he could not live with. The doctor assures him that this is normal, and Milos returns to work.

The devastated Milos prepares to do himself in after his "failure" with Masa.

Back at the station, things have been stirring. Hubicka and a handful of other locals have been conspiring to blow up a German military transport train. This is all being planned under the noses of politicians subservient to the conquering Nazi forces. Milos returns in the midst of this, and Hubicka welcomes him back to work. Once he hears the story of Milos' hospitalization, Hubicka soothes the young man and suggests that he find an older woman with whom he can relax and enjoy his first sexual foray. Hubicka also lets Milos in on the plan to blow up the Nazi train, and the two plan the sabotage together.

The eve of the sabotage arrives. A beautiful woman arrives at the station late in the evening, offers a password, and gives Hubicka a package with the explosives in it. The woman stays in the station, and Hubicka urges Milos into her arms. With the older woman, Milos finally enjoys his first night of sexual pleasure.

Milos looks out over the tracks, his slacking mentor Hubicka looking over his shoulder.

The next morning, the day of the planned attack, the train station begins buzzing. A few government officials show to follow up a complaint about Hubicka, who had previously bedded the young woman who works at the station with him. In the middle of his interrogation at the hands of the bureaucrats and the young woman's grandmother, Milos brazenly takes the explosives, shimmies out onto a structure hanging over the tracks, and waits. When the Nazi cargo train passes underneath, he deftly drops the explosives onto a middle car. However, just as he begins to soak in his success, a soldier on the train spots him and shoots him dead.

The train makes it about a mile farther down the track when it blows up in a massive explosion. The remaining workers at the train station rush out to see the tell-tale smoke clouds rising in the distance. Hubicka, oblivious to the death of his young co-worker and countryman, lets out a satisfied laugh over the victory.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this one viewing, before any further research)

Closely Watched Trains is a very uniquely hilarious movie.

Right from the opening minutes, I was laughing. As the sheepish, gawky little Milos is being dressed by his mother, his dry summary of his male forebears is great. His even-toned description of each man's laziness, oddity, and ultimate fate is accompanied by great still shots. It does a great job in setting the tone for the rest of the film.

The entire telling of Milos' pursuit to vanquish his own virginity is funny enough, but Milos himself is so hilarious in his innocence and naivete that it amplifies the comedy immeasurably. It starts with the aforementioned role call of his own lineage of laze, but it gets even better after his sexual failure with Masa. His attempted suicide is morbidly realistic, but his subsequent actions and behavior are so funny that they make you forget the darkness of it. So socially oblivious is he, that he seeks advice from any person available, openly proclaiming his problem of “premature ejaculation.”

This and his pubescent notions about manhood can't help but make you laugh, if only because everyone around him takes it in such easy stride. At one point, in his quest for a “mature woman” to help relieve him of the burden of virginity, he approaches the train station chief's 60-something year old mother as she stuffs a massive goose. While Milos awkwardly explains his plight, the woman calmly takes in the confession/plea while massaging foods down the goose's massive, phallic-shaped neck. Perhaps not very subtle, but the actors play it so straight that it's comedy gold.

The station master's mother placidly takes in Milos' tale of impotence, holding a suggestively fashioned goose.

While Milos more or less quietly steals the show, as he should, the supporting cast can't be overlooked. The libidinous Hubicka is a fantastically lovable loafer and ladies man. He basically has everything that the unimaginative Milos hopes to – a thoroughly undemanding job and a seemingly endless procession of young women to sleep with. What makes the otherwise selfish Hubicka so likable is that he is more than willing to help the hapless Milos achieve his dream. Sure, it's hardly a master/apprentice relationship on the scale of Socrates and Plato, but it's heartwarming in a much earthier way.

The entire mini-saga of Milos is funny enough, but what puts Closely Watched Trains in that rarer category of great movies is the setting. Being set in Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia adds a strange element to the character study. In the movie, the Nazi presence is tangential to the main plot, and the Germans are almost never seen. We mostly hear about them through the Czech bureaucrats, who obey them more out of fear rather than any loyalty. This reduction of the enemy presence emphasizes how an inexperienced teenage boy would prioritize such things: Number One = Sleep with a woman. Number Two = Find the easiest job possible. Number Whatever = Anything and everything else, including World War II. This totally bears out in the story, as it is only with his job secured and his virginity firmly stamped out that Milos is able to play a small part in the rebel cause.

The train station staff, caught in the blow back of the train explosion - Milos' lone confident and heroic act.

The movie does end on a somewhat weird vibe, as poor little Milos is shot and killed a few seconds after his crowing achievement as “A Man.” However, as I think back on it, it's not as sad as it seems. Had Milos lived, he almost certainly would have gone down as just another slacker in a long line of slackers in the Hrma family. His role in the attack on the Nazis probably would have faded, and he would have probably ended up just like his father – prematurely retired at age 50, lounging on a couch and being ridiculed by his working neighbors. As it was, he got to die a “hero's death” of sorts.

The characters, story and tone of the movie are clearly the outstanding elements of this movie, but a few other aspects shouldn't be overlooked. The filming is fantastic. It's in black and white, but the sets and framing show skill that goes beyond the norm. Some of the compositions and juxtapositions of characters and props enhance the physical comedy greatly, and usually is very sly ways. Whether its Hubicka playfully stamping his young co-workers legs and buttocks in the station or the uncomfortable stand-off between Milos and the goose-stuffing station master's mother, the visuals do nothing but enhance everything about the story.

As I write this, it had been four days since I watched Closely Watched Trains, and with every passing day I realize more and more just how much I liked the movie. As I think about the different levels that it was working on, and just how solid a film it was in all regards, I can see it as a film that I would watch and enjoy again. Anyone who enjoys somewhat dark, tongue-in-cheek humor would do well to track down this movie and give it a shot.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love this Movie (Done after some further research)

Some of the writing on Closely Watched Trains has sent me into philosophical crisis. I don't know whether to be hopelessly frustrated at human stupidity or grudgingly thankful to it for providing the fuel for artistic genius.

A little bit of research has informed me a little more of the political climate, and the geographical and historical context that allowed the birth of a film such as Closely Watched Trains. The best of what I read is this essay by Richard Schickel, in which he gives a thumbnail account of Czechoslovakia's unique place in European political affairs. He describes how its odd and interminable position as an occupied country led to a culture of “impish rebellion” that could be seen in its arts. It's a really interesting read, and one that makes the Czechs a very endearing group to me, a person who has never been there and only known a handful of the country's people (they were great, and boy, did they know their beers).

Milos' first of many near-kisses with Masa. This is just one of the much lighter comic moments sprinkled throughout this very sly film.

One other thing that stuck out a bit to me was that, in this original review in 1967, the TIME magazine reviewer didn't seem to view the character Hubicka as genial as I did. At best, he is written about with indifference. I felt that I agreed much more with Schickel's take (in the same essay as above) about Hubicka's more well-rounded character. Schickel even points out how Hubicka quite possibly represented the entire Czech nation, with his humorous self-absorption not completely drowning out his penchant for causing headaches to boorish and idiotic superiors and conquerors. I guess its no surprise how characters and filmmakers like that would appeal to viewers not only in the U.S., but throughout the Western world.

That's a wrap. 62 shows down. 43 to go.

Coming Soon: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1966)

I'm giddy with glee that this one is next on the list. I've probably seen it 10 times, and I can't wait to watch it again. Come on back to read me gush about one of my absolute favorite films of all time. Maybe I can convince a few uninitiated to give it a shot.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film # 58: Dr. Strangelove: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

Director: Stanley Kubrick

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: Roughly 7 or 8 (Last time – about 5 years ago)

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Wingnut general unleashes nuclear bombers on Russia. Loads of bizarre and hilarious characters fumble their way through the insanity.

Extended Summary (More complete synopsis; spoilers included. Fair warning)

In the middle of the Cold War, at Burpelson Air Force Base, deranged, rogue brigadier general Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) sends out a “go” code to an entire fleet of bombers. His orders are for them to dump their nuclear payloads onto scores of targets inside the Soviet Union.

General Jack D. Ripper - the man who seeks to annihilate the entire Soviet populace based on a rather...unusual theory.

When word of this catastrophic attack command reaches the U.S. War Room, General Buck Turgidson (George C. Scott) is called to confer with the country's executive and military leaders. Turgidson is a buffoonish hawk, completely caught up in the Red Scare, and suggests that the U.S. simply allow the unauthorized attacks to take place, as this will give them the upper hand in a Third World War. President Merkin Muffley (Peter Sellers) scoffs at this and starts the process of contacting the U.S.S.R. In an attempt to warn the Soviets and seek a solution.

In the air and fast approaching Soviet air space in the crew of one of the B-52 bombers, this one being flown by Major “King” Kong (Slim Pickens). The crew is rather nervous about getting the attack codes, as it signifies the start of all-out nuclear war. Still, the crew is determined to carry out their mission.

Back in the War Room, it soon becomes very clear than recalling the bombers is an impossible task. General Turgidson explains to all present that recent and obscure legislation allows for a single general to enact an attack under his own authority under certain provisions. While these provisions were not met, the rogue General Ripper has ceased to care. The President grows more desperate.

General Buck Turgidson continues his half-baked attempts in the War Room to bulldog the rest of his peers and superiors into pressing the attack on Russia.

Back at Burpelson, British group captain and executive officer Lionel Mandrake (Peter Sellers again) soon discovers that the supposed Russian attack is not true, and he confronts General Ripper. Ripper locks Mandrake into his office and explains his reason for launching the bomber attack: he believes that the communists are taking over American “bodily fluids” through fluoridation. At this point, it is clear than General Ripper is thoroughly insane. Mandrake demands the recall codes, but to no avail. He must await his psychotic superior's next move.

In the War Room, President Mandrake calls on the Soviet premier and calls in the Soviet diplomat in an attempt to resolve the crisis. In explaining the impending catastrophe, it is revealed that the Soviets have just created a “doomsday device” that will exterminate all life on the face of the earth, should any attack be made on the Soviet Union. The choices are now stark – the president enacts two assaults: one by the Americans on Burpelson Air Force Base, in order to wrest the recall codes from Ripper; and another, Soviet attack on the B-52 bombers that are rapidly approaching their targets inside the Soviet Union.

At Burpelson, the base has come under attack by the U.S. Army, and Ripper fights back. With Mandrake attempting to reason with him, Ripper keeps up his fight until the last moment. When it is clear than he can hold out no longer, Ripper commits suicide, seemingly taking the recall codes with him into the hereafter. However, Mandrake puzzles out the codes from some of Ripper's desk scribblings. After a bizarre hold-up at the hands of a dense and over-zealous army officer, Mandrake reaches the president.

In the War Room, the government's plan seems to have worked. The Soviets have shot down many of the American bombers, and the codes sent along by Mandrake have recalled all of the others. All, that is, except...

...the B-52 piloted by Major Kong. Their coding equipment having been shot up, they have not received the recall code from base. In addition, they have eluded all attempts to shoot them down. With gumption that is almost admirable, they make it to one of the targets and attempt to drop their payload. However, the bomb doors are jammed. In a final act of wherewithal, Major Kong straddles the bomb, fixes the bomb door wiring just above it, and rides the bomb down to its target. Nuclear winter has begun.

Major Kong succeeds in bringing his payload. Personally.

Back in the War Room, the mood is understandably somber. That is until the floor is taken by the wheelchair-ridden Doctor Strangelove (Peter Sellers, yet again), an ex-Nazi-turned American adviser. He seems oddly chipper about the entire scenario. He explains that the world's leaders can survive within caves beneath the earth. In his scenario, he suggests that the military and political leaders will take precedence and that they will have ample provisions to survive. In addition, in order to repopulate the earth after the fallout clears, they will need a high ratio of women to men. The cherry on top is that these women will need to be exceptionally attractive, so as better to allow the men to function in their role as procreators. With all of this to ease their worries, all of the men in the War Room seem to have already moved far beyond the nuclear apocalypse taking place above their very heads, to the point that they are already plotting how to get a leg up on post-Apocalyptic competitions with the Russians.

Did I Like It?

If you noticed how many times I've seen this film before, the answer is obvious. This most recent viewing did nothing to change my mind – this movie is one of the greatest comedy films of all time.

Now sure, there are probably other movies that I've laughed at more, and there are probably some comedies that have been wittier. But for balancing sheer inventiveness, zaniness, and canny social commentary, Dr. Strangelove is all but untouched.

While the theme of lampooning the Cold War era political philosophies of fear-mongering and arms racing may seem dated, it surely is not. The entire notion of the pre-emptive strike will never go away, and Dr. Strangelove takes the idea to its Swiftian extreme. Considering how the specter of nuclear holocaust continued to haunt the world for decades after the book and movie's release, Dr. Strangelove has serious staying power. By pushing the era's prevailing martial ideologies a little (I stress “a little”) further, it's easy to see how laughably insane they were. (We can laugh now, anyway.)

Beyond the brilliance of the story line and its execution is the real strength of the movie – the actors. Dr. Strangelove is mostly populated by caricatures goofy enough to laugh at, but also frighteningly real for what they represent. Such a strange balancing act can only be pulled off by just the right cast, and this film got it perfectly. Sterling Hayden as the chillingly calm, thoroughly insane General Ripper is as horrifying as he is hilarious. (His interactions with Mandrake are some of my favorite scenes in any movie). I can't imagine gung-ho pilot Major King Kong being played by anyone other than uber-hick, Slim Pickens. Even the bit role of Sergeant “Bat” Guano is done to pitch perfection by Keenan Wynn and his fantastically mispronounced catchphrase, “pre-versions”. As excellent as all of these, and other, actors are in the film, they are far surpassed by one of the all-time greats.

Peter Sellers, who had some of the most memorable comic performances of all time throughout his career, pulled off his greatest feat in Dr. Strangelove. In playing the amusingly sober Commander Mandrake, the oddly pliant President Muffley, and the hilariously twisted title character, he utilized every one of his considerable acting skills. It's been said of Sellers that few people (if any) actually knew the real man, for he would so completely lose himself in the characters that he was playing. In watching Dr. Strangelove, it's not hard to believe this. If you didn't know better, you may not even guess that the same actor is playing all 3 vastly different roles, as each of the three is busting your gut in vastly different ways. Just seeing him is more than worth the price of admission.

Officer Mandrake does his best to weather the storm of deranged General Ripper's apocalyptic dementia. Seller's role as Strangelove may be more iconic, but his turn as Mandrake is far funnier to me.

One interesting mental note I made as I watched the movie this most recent time – I had a moment of emotional guilt, not unlike when I was watching Double Indemnity earlier in the list. At the moment when the B-52 crew is trying to desperately make their bomb run, I felt myself pulling for them. Major Kong, the all-guts patriot/pilot redneck, shows no end of moxy by shrugging of missile attacks, broken fuel lines, and other malfunctions to get to his target and drop his payload. As I watched him almost single-handedly overcome each obstacle, I admired the simple yet brave soldier. Then I realized, “Wait a minute...this guy's about to trigger the ultimate nuclear winter!!!” There's something about watching a truly determined character use sheer willpower to smash through barriers that's gratifying, often regardless of their ultimate goal.

So yeah – I love this movie. I'll certainly watch it many more times in the years to come, and I can't recommend it highly enough. There may be a few moments where things seem a little slow (particularly in the B-52 scenes), but this film is a masterpiece the likes of which may never be duplicated.

That's a wrap. 58 films down, 48 to go.


Coming (Very) Soon: A Hard Day's Night (1964)

The Fab Four in one of their early feature films. I certainly respect, if not exactly love, the Beatles. Let's see how they did on the silver screen.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #32: Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)

Director: Robert Hamer

Initial Release Country: England

Times Previously Seen: none

Teaser Summary (20 words or fewer - no spoilers):

Ostensible gentleman coolly and hilariously murders his way up the tree of succession to a dukedom.

Uncut Summary (the whole shebang, spoilers included. Fair warning):

Louis Mazzini (Dennis Price) is a quiet, polite young man of a seemingly common, working class family. His English mother was turned out by her wealthy family, the D'Ascoynes, for marrying an Italian opera singer. The two left the D'Ascoyne estate for much more modest settings. Shortly after marriage, Louis is born, overwhelming the new father so much that he dies of joy, leaving Louis and his mother essentially alone.

Over the years, Louis grows up while his mother works in menial jobs and takes on a boarder to pay the bills. All the while, she sends Louis to the best schools. He eventually lands a job selling linens and even works his way up to selling women's underwear! All the while, his mother has been educating him on his family heritage, dispossessed though it may be. By this, Louis learns that he is roughly 12th in line for the Dukedom. Not much to go on, really, but time marches on.

Then, tragedy. Luois's mother suffers a tragic accident. She sends a plea to her estranged family to allow her to be buried on the family estate, but she is coldly refused. Shortly after, she dies. Louis becomes furious at the D'Ascoyne's callousness towards his beloved mother. He vows to kill each and every member of the family until he attains the Dukedom for himself. He begins in a benign enough way: he takes a job for his kindly great uncle D'Ascoyne in a large bank.

A determined Louis (left) ingratiates himself to his first future victim (middle) and his future wife, Edith.

Over the next several years, Louis both climbs the corporate ladder at the bank and exacts his cold revenge. Keeping a tally on a family tree, he "X"-es off any family member who dies. In some cases, he is helped by fate; scarlet fever does in twin infant D'Ascoynes and their mother; a fatal blunder at sea sinks Admiral D'Ascoyne; and so on. In many other cases, however, Louis plays the part of the reaper. By poison, explosives, bow and arrow, drowning, and the gun, he gradually does in every remaining living D'Ascoyne (all eight played by Alec Guinness) between himself and the Dukedom, finally claiming the title as his own.

Then, an ironic twist. Shortly after marrying the beautiful, noble and honorable Edith (Valerie Hobson), whose previous husband was one of Louis' victims, the newly coroneted Duke Louis D'Ascoyne is arrested for a murder that he didn't commit. In truth, he is being framed for the suicide of the husband of his past acquaintance and lover, the sensual and greedy Sibella (Joan Greenwood). Her ploy is to blackmail Louis into killing Edith and marrying her, making her the new duchess.

In the end, Louis agrees to Sibella's terms. She produces a previously-unfound suicide note which exonerates Louis. Upon his release, Louis stands outside of the jail gates to look upon two carriages: his upstanding and forgiving wife, Edith; and his egotistic and avaricious blackmailer, Sibella. Just when Louis seems to be back in the driver's seat, he realizes that he has left his faithful and honest memoirs in the middle of his jail cell, a thorough condemnation written by his own hand.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done before any further research):

A movie like this is one of the main reasons I started this little project: to find brilliant films that were previously unknown to me. Kind Hearts and Coronets is phenomenal comedy.

Only knowing the basic plot and that the film was British, I guessed that it would be black humor, and boy, was I right. It is black. Pitch black. To quote "the cowboy narrator" from The Big Lebowski, "...darker than a steer's tukus on a moonless prairie night." But it's black humor of the highest degree. It's the type of dry, dark, literate humor that I think only the British could pull off.

Louis Mazzoni, the serial murderer out for vengeance and the title that his beloved mother turned her back on, is far from warm, cuddly, or sympathetic. But damn, he sure is entertaining to watch and listen to. This is thanks to an brilliant script worthy of the wittiest Irish and British writers at their finest, as well as Dennis Price's portrayal as the mixed race, avenging devil. He's all manners, sophistication, and sly wit as he condemns and slays English aristocratic society both in word and in deed.

Equally worthy of attention is Alec Giunness as the eight D'Ascoynes. His performances are as incredible as they are hilarious. The eight aristocrats: the kindly banker, the bluff patriarch, the arrogant dandy, the blowhard Colonel, the bombastic Admiral, the ferocious suffragette, the rambling parson, and the emasculated photography enthusiast; each one is given his or her own attitude, bearing, voicing, and even posture. Each one is distinct and distinctly hilarious. Among the many jewels in Guiness' acting crown, this one is worthy of a prime place.

Here's perhaps the most hilarious little sequence of deaths. My favorite is the death of Admiral D'Ascoyne, which comes second in this clip. Sorry, but I can only give the hyperlink to the youtube clip.

A side-note on Alec Guinness. I heard once that one of his great regrets was playing Obi Wan Kenobi in Star Wars. The reason being that, after five decades of stellar acting work on the stage and screen, he would forever after 1977 be known almost exclusively as the bearded and robed mentor to a weenie Luke Skywalker. A true tragedy, in my book.

Back to Kind Hearts and Coronets. My girlfriend and I laughed so hard at this movie that I had to wonder why it isn't better known. My only theory is that U.S. culture has never embraced dark humor, en masse. When I think about our popular culture in terms of TV shows or movies, I find it still mostly composed of yuk-yuk jokes, slapstick gags, and very obvious, sophomoric humor. There have been some strides made lately, with a few successful shows dropping their laugh tracks ("But how will I know when to laugh!?") and relying on (gasp!) the actual script and acting.

The Office has done rather well with this very British approach, though a notable casualty was the incredible show Arrested Development, which Fox bungled horribly. I can only hope that more people begin to see the value in such shows, and realize that taking otherwise serious or dire situations and mixing them with a dash of ridiculous fiction can create storytelling magic. Kind Hearts and Coronets was a key forefather to such things in film, and I highly recommend and fan of dry, off-beat humor give it a watch.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love this Movie (done after some further research):

Some really interesting factoids about this movie out there, most notably in this great little essay by Philip Kemp.

The adaptation process was an interesting one. The original novel, Israel Rank: the Autobiography of a Criminal (1907) by Roy Horniman, was a very similar dark satire that subverted the aristocratic system in England. However, some key changes were made by the scriptwriters. Firstly, Horniman's half-Jewish killer was made to be half-Italian, given the political climate of post-WWII England. More importantly, however, were the additions of various methods of assassination (in the book, Rank poisons everyone) and the clever witticisms delivered by Louis Mazzini. Kemp points out how these latter two changes enhanced the story invaluably, and I can't help but agree.

Equally interesting is the life of the film's director and co-scripter, Robert Hamer. Kind Hearts and Coronets was quite a departure for the Ealing production company, which had mostly done lighthearted films of fancy. It was only through many battles and Hamer's sheer genius that the film was made. Hamer was, by all accounts, a true man of film and brilliance, extremely creative and beloved by the actors with whom he worked. He was an alcoholic whose anger at the established, stuffy British culture fueled his creativity. His discontent seemingly only grew over the years and eventually wore him down, leading to his death at a relatively young age, another casualty of artistic constraint.

A still from one of several scenes cut for the American version, for openly admitting to infidelity.

Speaking of limiting creativity, it's interesting to see how the film was changed for the American release, several months after the London premier. Certain scenes between Louis and Sibella were deemed too erotic and suggestive, so they were cut. The scenes that ridiculed the dim-witted parson D'Ascoyne violated movie codes. They were cut. And, the most grievous affront in my mind, the ending was altered. Since the Hayes code forbade the mere suggestion of a criminal getting away with a crime, the American version added ten seconds of footage to show Louis' memoirs actually being found at the end, thus eliminating any chance that the murderous Mazzini would get off scot free. Yet another example of amusing ambiguity crushed by the Hayes code, a la Baby Face.

On a more critical note, most reviews seem to laud Joan Greenwood's performance as the petulant Sibella as outstandingly alluring. While I can't deny her skill, I disliked the character so much that I can't agree with the original TIME magazine review that she's basically the sexiest thing on the planet. I found her a little to elf-like to put her on a level with some of the sultrier vixens of the day, Barbra Stanwyck and Ingrid Bergman, to name a few.

Kind Hearts and Coronets deserves much more modern recognition that I think it receives. Any person who gets hearty laughs from calm, cool, literate humor would do well to track down this 60-year old classic. I'll certainly be watching it with any new viewers that I can find.

That's a wrap. 32 shows down, 73 to go.

Coming Soon: White Heat (1950):

"Top of the world, ma!!" I've seen this one, and remember liking it. I enjoy James Cagney's "ornery little man" persona, and if I remember rightly, he plays a whack-job, mother-loving criminal in this one. Should be fun.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.