Flick of The Day: Premium Rush

2012 has been a big year for American actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt, there was his crucial and justly lauded turn in Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight Rises, followed by the mind bending science fiction action of Looper alongside Bruce Willis and he is currently filling the screen space opposite Daniel Day Lewis in Steven Spielberg's Lincoln however perhaps his best performance of the year is in the little seen recent release Premium Rush about bike couriers on the streets of New York.

Premium Rush

Levitt is a recent law school graduate named Wilee who spends his days in the (supposedly) high octane world of bike couriers criss crossing the streets of Manhattan as he delivers and collects his packages. It turns out to be an interesting sub culture and David Koepp's fast paced storytelling is well suited to pulling the audience into the this otherwise unseen brotherhood of wheelies. One afternoon Wilee arrives to collect a package with a difference.  This letter contains something which corrupt cop Bobby Monday played by the excellent Michael Shannon is desperate to get his hands on. There is a whole sub plot involving money laundering and people trafficking which explains the letter but I'm not going to bore you with it. It's merely a MacGuffin to drive the film on. All you need to know is that Wilee has it and Monday wants its, so begins a chase across the streets of Manhattan.

Levitt excels in the role of the underachiever with a clear moral code. Wilee may not be making the right decisions in his own life but he knows what the right thing to do is and puts himself on the line accordingly. The other impressive aspect of his performance is the sheer amount of fitness required for it. The cycling chase scenes are spectacular at times and they rely largely on Levitt's skill at the wheel. Michael Shannon's role is perhaps underwritten and we know nothing other than he faces a gambling debt and needs to score a large some of money in short order. Shannon is perhaps the best character actor in American cinema today though and he brings a gruff realism to the role.

The film is slight at barely 90 minutes and there isn't really and fat on the script that I can see but its fast paced nature never really lets up even in the flashback scenes and the film is all the better for it. It's enjoyable and it doesn't hang around long enough to overstay its welcome. Director David Koepp made his name as a screenwriter with a credit list of blockbusters that has to be seen to be believed but after 1999's Stir of Echoes and 2008's Ghost Town, this confirms his talent as a director of intelligent mainstream cinema.

All in all, this is an enjoyable break neck chase movie that makes the most of a talented cast and some excellent cinematography. The backdrop of the Manhattan streets is the perfect setting for such a high octane thriller as we have seen countless times for. A fine film.

Flick of The Day: After Hours

Many great directors have oddities in their back catalogue, films that don't feel like their by the same director, that don't sit amongst the director's body of work. 1941 has long stood out on Steven Spielberg's list (a Comedy!) while Ridley Scott directed Thelma & Louise and Tim Burton's ill fated Planet of the Apes remake does not immediately seem like something you would expect him to create. Often these films stand out because they are of a lower quality than the rest of the director's work but sometimes there is a decent film there that just feels out of character. For Martin Scorsese, his 1985 dark comedy After Hours is such a film. This is perhaps because of the circumstance which surround its creation. A film which the great director very much fell into when his take on the The Last Temptation of Christ was cancelled by the studio just days before he was due to begin shooting, it is borne out of his need to make something and is all the better for it.

After Hours

Paul, played by Griffin Dunne, is a jobbing word processor who after a long day at the office bumps into a quirky and pretty girl named Marcy in a New York cafe. Later he decides to venture out of his upper east side apartment in search of Marcy and her SoHo residence. So begins a nightmarish journey to the dark side of the city. After a manic taxi ride during which he loses all his money to a gust of wind, he arrives at Marcy's  down at heel part of town only to find that there is little chemistry and Marcy is at best a little odd. Marcy lives with an equally eccentric character, a sculptor named Kiki played by Linda Fiorentino. Paul decides to flee the apartment and heads for home on the subway, or rather he would have but for his shortage of funds. Facing a walk home in the teeming rain, he makes for an empty dive bar where the bartender, played by John Heard offers to spot him the train fare if he goes to his apartment to set his burglary alarm. Of course, Paul is mistaken for a thief and is soon being pursued by a murderous mob of vigilantes. Paul is soon running for his life and his night goes from bad to worse as a series of increasingly bizarre events conspire to stop him from getting home.

While the events of Paul's night in SoHo are decidedly bizarre, they always feel plausible and knit together with a veneer of truth. This credibility is necessary to keep the viewer engaged as things go from bad to worse. The character of Paul himself bares each new event with a charm that would be beyond most people and gives him an endearing quality which carries the film to its end.

This kind of dark black comedy is not something which Scorsese would be known for and it would be hard to imagine him making such a film today. That said, the film is replete with the kind of visual displays of talent for which he has long been famed. At one point a set of keys are thrown to Paul from a height, Scorsese shows us this from the point of view of the keys plummeting toward Paul. It is at all times a stylish movie, the director knows his surroundings well and does his best to show this part of the city off. This is New York during the dark days of the 1980's before the mayorship of Rudy Giuliani sought to clean the streets of crime and grime. This is a film very much of its time. The noir elements suit the mood of the film and heighten the feeling of a journey into the unknown for the relative Milquetoast that is Griffin Dunne's Paul.

While Martin Scorsese would go on to bigger and better things, there is much to enjoy in this mid career character piece. It captures both a time and a place which have come to be culturally significant since the film was made. The story, bizarre as it is never feels like an elaborate con job on the audience and if anything holds its own in the manner of many bar tales that begin, "You won't believe what happened to me last night...".

Flick of The Day: King of New York

I have looked at the decline of New York City in the 70's and 80's previously in my reviews of  Scorsese's Bringing Out The Dead and  James Gray's We Own The Night and it is indeed a rich canvas for filmmakers to work with. Abel Ferrara has long used this as his milieu with some successes such as 1992's Bad Lieutenant and  some notable failures such as today's flick of the day, King of New York. During its premiere at the 1990 New York Film Festival, much of the audience walked out including Ferrara's own wife. In the years since its release it has come to be seen for what it is, a stylish b-movie oddity with an uneven script that is held together by a towering performance from Christopher Walken as the drug kingpin of the title.

King of New York

Opening with the release from prison of Frank White, played by Walken, the film depicts the grimy underbelly of New York from the backseat of a limousine in a memorable opening sequence. After his stint behind bars Frank is acutely aware of how his exploitation of society as a drug trafficker had made him a wealthy man. Determined to give something back to the neighbourhood, he sets out to reclaim his throne and finance the construction of a hospital with his ill gotten gains. To do this he needs the help of the various factions which control the city. Much like an episode of the PlayStation series Grand Theft Auto, each of the gangs are represented along racial lines. There are Asians, Italians, Colombians and African Americans each nastier than the last and again much like a computer game, their refusal to bow to Frank leads to scenes of highly stylised violence usually led by Frank's right hand man Jimmy Jump, played with manic abandon by Laurence Fishburne. Ultimately Frank's attempts to do good lead to a major gang war where even hard nosed cops led by David Caruso are out to get him before a dramatic bullet riddled finale in Times Square.

It should be plain by now that I don't view this film as a classic by any means but that is not to say it doesn't ask some interesting questions about the effects of the drug trade on a city and its people. Released at the end of the Reagan 80's when the war on drugs became front page news, this film pointedly shows how much of a failure these efforts had been. Frank views himself as a businessman and as he puts it:

"You think ambushing me in some nightclub's gonna stop what makes people take drugs? This country spends $100 billion a year on getting high, and it's not because of me. All that time I was wasting in jail, it just got worse. I'm not your problem. I'm just a businessman. "

This could have been a thrilling examination of one man's rise and fall but too often the script resorts to stock cliché's from Gangster 101. Ferrara's visual flights of fancy while stylish and beautiful often detract from the film, giving it a cartoonish air, something enforced by the sheer frivolity of characters like Jimmy Jump and bullet strewn scenes that don't serve to move the plot forward. Very much a missed opportunity.

If the film has a redeeming factor it is the performance of Christopher Walken. A real talent when it comes to playing menacing villains, he shines throughout as Frank. Imbuing the character with a sociopathic streak while still making a case for him being the most sane character in the film, Walken carries the film when the script lets itself down.

Roy Bishop: You expected to get away with killing all these people? 

Frank White: I spent half my life in prison. I never got away with anything, and I never killed anybody that didn't deserve it. 

Roy Bishop: Who made you judge and jury? 

Frank White: Well, it's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

While far from the car crash its premiere would have suggested and not worthy of the opprobrium heaped upon it on it release, this is a deeply flawed film with an uneven script and visual tone. Walken is strong enough to make the film watchable but it is no more then that. As a time capsule it takes some beating though, capturing a city and a period that has long since passed into the realm of urban myths. The New York underworld during the 80's? No it was never as stylish as even Abel Ferrara imagines but then what is?

Flick of The Day: The Taking of Pelham One Two Three

One of the unfortunate traits of the film industry is that eventually every film, the great and the good and the genuinely mediocre will get remade with John Travolta playing a prominent role. Today's flick of the day is another fine example of this trend. The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, a taut 1972 thriller was remade in 2009 by Tony Scott in an infinitely inferior version.

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three

On a quiet afternoon in New York City, four men take control of a New York Subway train, Pelham 123 packed with commuters. Led by Mr Blue, icily played by Robert Shaw, they demand payment of $1m  in an hour or they will start killing passengers. On the other end of the radio is Transit Cop Garber, played by Walther Matthau. He has to stop the hijackers from following through while the money is raised and keeping the more aggressive members of the police in check.

Mr. Blue: Ladies and gentlemen, it might interest you to know that the City of New York has agreed to pay for your release. 

[Hostages cheer] 

Old Man: Excuse me, sir. Do you mind telling me how much you're getting? 

Mr. Blue: What's it to you, sir? 

Old Man: A person likes to know his worth. 

Mr. Blue: One million dollars. 

Old Man: That's not so good.

This film was the box office popcorn flick of its day, a simple story told well with two strong performances from Matthau and Shaw. It is interesting to compare the choice of actor with the remake for it is the strongest reason why a remake was unnecessary. Robert Shaw was always an actor of substance, in a career cut short by his untimely death at aged 51, he played a host of stellar roles. In the remake, his role is played by John Travolta. Not much one can really add to that. Apart from the cast, the other strength of the film is the shooting on location in New York. The city becomes an additional character to the plot. Add this to a script that cleverly ratchets up the tension to a grand finale, and you have a fine action picture.

Mr. Blue: Now, then, ladies and gentlemen, do you see this gun? It fires 750 rounds of 9-millimeter ammunition per minute. In other words, if all of you simultaneously were to rush me, not a single one of you would get any closer than you are right now. I do hope I've made myself understood.

Directed by Joseph Sargent from a source novel, the film really catches the zeitgeist of 1970's New York, a city with a host of problems having almost gone bankrupt. The various commuters that populate the film act as a great cross section of New York society. Sargent was mainly a TV director, and the craft honed on the small screen such as his efficient use of an ensemble cast shines through.

All in all, a fine film and a great example of an early 70's blockbuster. Driven by strong performances from Robert Shaw and Walther Matthau and an action filled script, this is well worth a second look.

Flick of The Day: We Own The Night

Taking its title from the motto of the NYPD Street Crimes Unit, the now disbanded unit legendary for its no holds barred attempts to clean up the streets of New York as it descended into nightmarish levels of crime in the 1980's, James Gray's film is steeped in nostalgia for an era when the City was not the wholesome tourist destination it is now. This is something which has been documented before in the likes of Scorsese's Bringing Out The Dead and the work of Abel Ferrara with films like King of New York and Bad Lieutenant.

We Own the Night

Set against the backdrop of the ongoing and bloody war between the NYPD and the Russian mafia in 1980's Brooklyn and Brighton Beach, where Bobby Green, ably played by Joaquin Phoenix is manager of the hottest night club in town, which he manages on behalf of a Russian mafia front, unbeknownst of course. Bobby has a secret known only to his girlfriend, played by Eva Mendes, he comes from a family of cops. His father Bert, Robert Duvall in patriarch mode, is the deputy chief while his brother Joseph, a surprisingly good Mark Wahlberg, is a rising star. Together, Bert and Joseph are engaged in an investigation of the Russian gangsters who control the drug trade in the area. They attempt to reach out to Bobby, who blind to the actions of his Russian friends rebuffs them. It is only when the war on the streets begins to hit home that Bobby is forced to try and bring an end to the carnage that has engulfed the city.

The real strength of this film is the atmosphere and look that director James Gray has created. He seems to have a great feel for the material and there is much to enjoy in terms of the sights and sounds of 1980's New York from the music in Bobby's Club to the dark gritty violence that pervades the film, it pulls the viewer into the period and retains interest while the at times dense plot develops. It is helpful of course that all of the leads are in fine form, with Pheonix character having to carry much of the film as he transforms from a morally bankrupt Club manager to a crusading cop. A hefty transformation for any film to carry. The other saving grace of the film is a nuanced script with some memorable lines.

Joseph Grusinsky: I don't need any more guns in my life, that's for sure. But you should have one to be safe. It's better to be judged by twelve than carried by six.

Coming in at just under two hours, the film doesn't feel overly long and given the weighty storyline involved could easily have become a chore with a more indulgent director.That said, it is sombre in tone and those expecting constant action will be disappointed, with the plot playing out over the course of a year, giving it a more realistic feel.

All in all, this is a decent look at a very interesting period of recent history and anyone with a passing interest will find much to enjoy. The leads excel in what are at times stock roles with particularly fine turns from Joaquin Phoenix and Eva Mendes. Well worth a look.

Flick of The Day: Manhattan

Opening with a classic and often imitated montage of black and white street scenes of New York City set to George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, this is Woody Allen's masterpiece, an homage to the city he loves, Manhattan. The film is both an ode to the city and an indictment of the almost permanent dissatisfaction of its denizens.

Manhattan

Woody Allen plays Isaac Davis, another variation on the same literate, New York sophisticate that populate nearly all of his films of this era. This one is a dissatisfied TV comedy writer. As per the usual, he is in a relationship with a girl half his age who is in thrall to his mind, Tracy,a 17 year old played wonderfully by Mariel Hemingway. His ex-wife, a cold lesbian played by Meryl Streep is out to destroy him by writing a book about their marriage.  Diane Keaton plays a female version of Isaac, literate, opinionated and never satisfied. At the heart of the tale is Isaac's neuroses and his inability to commit to Tracy, always hinting at a breakup and moving on to Keaton's Mary. He eventually comes to his senses but is it too late?

The film is peppered with some very fine witty dialogue, some of Allen's best work. Some of the funniest lines are the knowing laughs at the expense of Allen and his contemporaries. You know the type of Manhattanite more concerned without how something looks then how it is. There is one great exchange at a cocktail party.

Isaac Davis: Has anybody read that Nazis are gonna march in New Jersey? Y'know, I read this in the newspaper. We should go down there, get some guys together, y'know, get some bricks and baseball bats and really explain things to them. 

Party Guest: There is this devastating satirical piece on that on the Op Ed page of the Times, it is devastating. 

Isaac Davis: Well, a satirical piece in the Times is one thing, but bricks and baseball bats really gets right to the point.

Ultimately though the best reason to see the film is that it is an ode to a city, explaining why Allen loves it and why it is at the heart of almost all of his canon of work until very recently. The story of the intertwining relationships is overlaid onto this and there is as much poignancy to all their unhappiness as there is humour. The character feel well drawn, all having a depth to their angst. They are not just clichés of urban professionals with too much time on their hands to engage in navel gazing.

The film is beautiful to look at, the black and white cinematography a triumph, harking back to the city as it was during the jazz age. The opening sequence is one of the great achievements in modern cinema and this film is rightly considered as one of Allen's best. It is strange that upon completion Allen asked United Artists not to release it and even went as far as offering to do another film for free. He has never spoken about why he disliked it. Perhaps it was too close to the bone. 

Isaac Davis: Why is life worth living? It's a very good question. Um... Well, There are certain things I guess that make it worthwhile. uh... Like what... okay... um... For me, uh... ooh... I would say... what, Groucho Marx, to name one thing... uh... um... and Wilie Mays... and um... the 2nd movement of the Jupiter Symphony... and um... Louis Armstrong, recording of Potato Head Blues... um... Swedish movies, naturally... Sentimental Education by Flaubert... uh... Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra... um... those incredible Apples and Pears by Cezanne... uh... the crabs at Sam Wo's... uh... Tracy's face...

In summary, this is a classic film that all should see. Coming off the success of Annie Hall, this film placed Woody Allen in the pantheon of great writer/directors. It has a wonderful style all of its own combined with a knowing wit of the lives of New Yorkers, this combined with Gordon Willis beautiful cinematography make it an unmissable treat.

Flick of The Day: The French Connection

The Motion Picture Production Code or Hays code as it was popularly known came into being in 1934 and required all films to be certified prior to release. Of course, this meant that producers had to tone down anything sexually explicit or violent in order to obtain certification. This was effectively artistic neutering and meant that so many subjects could just not be tackled. This code held sway until the late 60's when it began to fall apart, giving the film-makers of the 1970's so much more licence. Today's film, The French Connection was one of the first to make use of the no-boundaries 70's. It broke the mould for the police procedural genre and its effect can still be felt in cinema today.

The French Connection

Directed by the supreme ego that is William Friedkin, The French Connection tells the tale of two narcotics cops and their attempts to take down a heroin importing kingpin. Popeye Doyle, played with zest and gruff natural charm by Gene Hackman and Buddy Russo played ably by Roy Scheider. On a hunch, they follow Sal Boca, a small time criminal, and his girlfriend home from a nightclub after they spot him throwing money around like confetti. Their suspicions are proved correct and they quickly realize that Sal is involved in a large conspiracy to import heroin from Marseilles and that suave businessman Alain Charnier, a terrific Fernando Rey, is the man behind the French connection.

The film is photographed with a gritty realism, almost documentary in style. Stark black and white credits buttress an opening sequence that is without preamble and pulls you in immediately. Friedkin was a documentary film-maker before moving to features and this shines through in his work. It is perfect for this story however as the true story that lies beneath the French connection is an intriguing one. In reality, the connection provided the majority of the heroin that flooded the streets of New York in the late 60's and early 70's. Indeed, there is a tale that in preparation for the film, the real Doyle and Russo took Friedkin on a trip to a flophouse that was a mere 8 blocks from his apartment. 

The character of Popeye Doyle, so perfectly portrayed by Hackman is a landmark in cinema. He is one of the first screen anti-heroes, gruff and profane and at times racist but always devoted to the job, even to his own detriment. Hackman deservedly won the Best Actor Oscar for his performance, which makes the film. It adds to the overall sense of realism, something reinforced by the downbeat ending which suited the film and was typical of the era. It is a great shame that the films that came after this did not stick to this level of realism for it makes for compelling viewing. The film is perhaps best remembered for its car chase scene, in which Popeye chases an overhead train through the streets of New York in the middle of the day. Legend has it that the producers did not have any permits to film this scene and instead just set off one day and Friedkin filmed what occurred. It is thrilling and there is a great feeling of speed as Popeye tries desperately to get his man. This is perhaps the best place to end this review. Enjoy!

Flick of The Day: 25th Hour

Spike Lee exploded into the world of film in the 1980s with a fine début  in She's Gotta Have It, a comedy drama with an urban reality. However it was his third film, the incendiary Do The Right Thing, dealing as it did with race relations in New York's inner city, that really put Lee on the map as one of the finest, if controversial, film-makers of his generation. As time has passed, he has mellowed but his film-making only gets better, such as today's film, 25th Hour.

25th Hour

Monty Brogan, an excellent as usual Edward Norton, is a drug dealer with 24 hours to put his affairs in order before he heads off to prison for a 7 year stretch. He walks his beloved dog, Doyle, he says goodbye to his father, the superb Brian Cox and he goes out for one last night-out with his oldest friends. Jacob, a teacher played by Philip Seymour Hoffman who is in love with one of his teenage students shuffles through the movie, introverted, shy, but loyal to the end. Slaughtery played by Barry Pepper, a Wall St guy, cynical and arrogant but Monty's oldest friend.

Monty is saying goodbye to his life, his city and as the film moves on goes from grief to anger to acceptance. As the film opens, he is sitting on a bench by the river, thinking of how he got there, tinged with regret. An important aspect of this movie is that it was filmed shortly after 9/11 and Spike Lee devotes a number of important moments to the scars that are left on the City, his City, Monty's City, from the terrorist attack. At one point, we look into the crater left at ground zero. As Monty revisits his old haunts, he looks at the shrines to the dead fire-fighters in his Father's bar. 9/11 is ever present throughout the film.
Monty's anger is obvious, eventually exploding into a vicious rant at the whole city in a public toilet. Everyone is at fault in his eyes, you can feel the characters aimless anger:

"Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandler's grubbing for money, smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job.  Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. Slow the fuck down!
Fuck the Chelsea Boys with their waxed chests and pumped-up biceps, going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jiggling their dicks on my Channel!
Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speakee English. Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafes, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth, wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from. Fuck the black-hatted Hasidim strolling up and down the Street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff, selling South African apartheid diamonds. Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas-Gordon Gekko wannabe motherfuckers figuring out new ways to rob hardworking people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life. You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break. Fuck the Puerto Ricans. Twenty to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls. Worst fucking parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dominicans,'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst ltalians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their Jason Giambi Louisville Slugger baseball bats trying to audition for "The Sopranos." Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their Balducci artichoke. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched all taut
and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart. Fuck the Uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every layup to the hoop, and then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended 137 years ago. Move the fuck on. Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil.  And while you're at it, fuck J.C. He got off easy -- a day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity. Try seven years in fucking Otisville, J. Fuck Osama bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass cave-dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your 16 whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel-headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal lrish ass."

Eventually, Monty comes to see that he has nobody but himself to blame but not before each of his friends, and his father blame themselves for not being there to save him from himself. In the end, all that's left is fear. Fear of what awaits him in Prison. Monty goes to his fate and in that is a kind of redemption. He sees the errors he has made and we can have hope for him as he goes off to prison, because of that epiphany.

A very fine film, played out by actors at the top of their game. This is one of the best films of the last 10 years and worthy of your time.

Flick of The Day: Bringing Out The Dead

It is easy to forget given the profile of the city is now higher than it has been at any time in the recent past, but there was a time when New York City was a dark hole on the face of humanity. After narrowly avoiding bankruptcy in 1975, the city began a slow decline with shockingly high crime rates and a depressed local economy. This decline was aided and abetted by the rise of crack cocaine in the 80’s. This is the New York City that Martin Scorsese introduces us to in today’s film, Bringing Out The Dead, set in the early ‘90s before Rudy Giuliani came to power and as legend would have it cured the city of all its ills much like St Patrick drove the snakes from Ireland. 

Bringing Out the Dead

With a script from Paul Schrader, reigniting a partnership with Scorsese that has produced Taxi Driver and Raging Bull. Indeed, this film explores many of the same themes as Taxi Driver. The City as an open sewer and one man coming to his wits end with the decay around him. In this film, as in Taxi Driver, there is a strong central performance, with Nicolas Cage as Frank Pierce, a burnt out paramedic, haunted by the ghosts of all the people he couldn't save over the years. The film follows him on a three day journey to the dark side, as he works the night shift on the hottest weekend of the summer. 

Taxi Driver (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)

The film is aided by three fine supporting performances from John Goodman, Ving Rhames and Tom Sizemore as Frank’s partners on the 3 nights we follow him. Each has their own way with dealing with the stress and the frustrations of the job. Larry (Goodman) obsesses about food, Marcus (Rhames) is a born again Christian while Tom (Sizemore) just strikes out randomly at those who irritate him. 

This is a dark and at times shocking film, as we see the worst aspects of the City. Frank’s problems stem from the fact that he wades through this on a daily basis. The film moves along at a cracking pace, as Frank falls apart having long since reached his limit. It works best when moving at pace, paralleling the paramedics shift as they go from call to call. When it slows during the daytime, it is less interesting but then the limited downtime is when Frank has a chance to catch his breath. 

Rich in imagery and subtext, this may not be Scorsese at his very best but it is great filmmaking. Check it out!