Michael Keaton is making a major comeback (for real this time)

Michael Keaton

Last night I revisited one of the most underrated movies of the 90's, Ron Howard's The Paper, a fast, funny and smart look at the a New York Post-like tabloid. The movie boasts an incredible cast (including Robert Duvall, Marisa Tomei and Glenn Close) and is headlined by the great Michael Keaton.

It's fascinating to look back on a time when Keaton was a bankable, above-the-title movie star. Twenty years later, many film fans have wondered: "what happened?"

The easy answer is a lot of mediocre, forgettable movies that flopped. Remember Jack Frost, the movie where Keaton played a talking snowman? I hope not.

The truth is Keaton was always better than the material he chose, with a handful of key exceptions.

Still, when he was on his A-game, working with a truly great collaborator, like Tim Burton, he was one of the most unique and exciting leading men in movies.

He exploded onto the scene in 1982's Night Shift as a motormouth goofball who hatches a scheme to run a prostitution ring out of a morgue. His hot streak continued with the lightweight, but entertaining comedies Mr. Mom and Johnny Dangerously. In 1988, he had his big breakthrough, starring in the intense drama Clean and Sober and as the iconic "ghost with the most" in Beetlejuice.

Birdman

At this point everyone knows about the brouhaha over Keaton's casting as Batman in the 1989 blockbuster. Nowadays we can all laugh at the outrage since it's a commonly held opinion that Keaton's performance in that film and its 1992 sequel remains the definitive portrait of the Dark Knight to date. I agree. Christian Bale was terrific. But Keaton was the most believable Batman. As Burton put it so well, you could see him putting on the suit.

And then a strange thing happened. After he wisely passed on the campy direction the Batman series was taking with Batman Forever, he seemed to fade into obscurity. With the exception of a couple standout supporting roles in Jackie Brown and The Other Guys, Keaton was no longer the A-list icon he was in the late 80s and early 90s.

In the interim his work has been reappraised and he has become something of a hipster hero. He's popped up in direct-to-DVD dreck, cheesy family movies and in more amusing places, like on 30 Rock.

This year, for the first time in has career, he is generating serious Oscar buzz for a leading role in Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's new comedy-drama Birdman. If the trailer is any indication, it's going to be a visual masterpiece, with Keaton re-taking his rightful place as the unconventional movie star he always was.

The film looks to be somewhat semi-autobiographical, as the now 62-year-old actor plays a washed up performer who is haunted by his most iconic character, the titular superhero Birdman. It's ironic that Keaton was such a controversial choice to play Batman, and now it's impossible for some audiences to see him as anything but that character.

As I've written before, the 1989 Batman is my favorite film of all time hence Keaton's lead performance also ranks among my favorites. It's a brilliant study in eccentricity with rage bubbling under the surface. Jack Nicholson chews the scenery with the showier role but it's Keaton who has the most compelling presence.

For those of us who recognized what a distinct talent Keaton was (even when his movies were a letdown) we've been waiting for him to make a major comeback. Now, twenty years after his last truly great lead role he seems poised to have the biggest year of his career.

I'm excited to see him soar again.

Giving props to Paul Newman: The legendary actor's essential films

Paul Newman

Paul Newman was a very unique actor.

He arrived during the slow demise of the studio system but he pre-dated the "new Hollywood" boom of the late '60s and early '70s.

He was a Method actor who trained with the legendary Lee Strasberg and yet he is rarely viewed as a contemporary of James Dean, Marlon Brando and Montgomery Clift -- even though he was.

Perhaps because his good looks and his career endured so much longer and straddled so many periods of film compared to his peers -- it's been hard to classify Newman.

In so many ways he is the quintessential movie star in the same vein as people like Brad Pitt and George Clooney are today. But he was also an incredible humanitarian, a political activist and a thoughtful, nuanced actor who wasn't afraid to show and edgy vulnerability in an above-the-title role.

He has always been a favorite actor of my father's -- he often calls Cool Hand Luke his favorite film -- so I was introduced to him at a fairly early age. I loved his collaborations with Robert Redford, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and The Sting, two perfect films that created the blueprint for the modern buddy comedy-adventure.

Like so many leading men, Newman struggled early in his career to be viewed as something more than just a pretty face. He finally started earning more accolades for his later work, in which the still startlingly handsome actor began to portray a more grizzled persona. This may be my favorite version of Newman -- but he really was an icon at any age.

For those who only know him as the charitable face behind the Newman's Own franchise, I've compiled this list of what I consider to be his essential films/performances.

Hud

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958) - This gorgeous, incredibly well acted adaptation of Tennessee Williams' classic play is best enjoyed if you approach it with the understanding that Newman's character, Brick, is a closeted gay man. The censorship of the era prevented the film from going there. But Newman's searing performance (opposite a never-better Elizabeth Taylor and Burl Ives) speaks volumes.

The Hustler (1961) - Quite possibly Newman's best and most iconic performance from his early career. He plays "Fast Eddie" Felson, a cocky and in-over-his-head pool hustler who's life takes a tragic turn when he tries to topple a legendary player, the easily under-estimated Minnesota Fats (Jackie Gleason). This movie oozes effortless cool.

Hud (1963) - A complex character study about a selfish, womanizing cowboy who clashes with his old-fashioned father in a small Texas town. Newman once again shows his ability to imbue inherently unlikable characters with enough charm and sensitivity to make them totally engaging and irresistible.

Cool Hand Luke (1967) - Newman plays the heroic (even Christ-like) titular character is this classic movie set in a prison. The movie's anti-conformity message resonates to this day and Newman's performance as the tirelessly irrepressible Luke is one of this most moving and memorable.

Paul Newman on the set of Slap Shot

Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid (1969) - The first pairing of Redford and Newman is a western classic. The episodic (and comedic) adventure has it all. It's beautifully shot, has a perfect score and the chemistry between its stars can't be beat. Newman plays the motormouth "brains" behind their bandit duo and he shows off his flair for comedy throughout.

The Sting (1973) - Although Redford has the more dominant role in this best picture winner, Newman gets plenty of opportunities to shine. One of my favorite Newman scenes ever is when he plays an uncouth drunk in order to rope in the target of the heroes' heist. One of the all-time best Hollywood capers.

Slap Shot (1977) - Newman once called this raucous and proudly politically incorrect sports comedy his favorite movie that he ever made. It's certainly an enduring cult classic. This vulgar, violent ode to the spirit of hockey is a great showcase for the aging actor, who plays a relatively pathetic character who is trying to get one last moment of glory. A "fun" movie with a very bittersweet ending.

The Verdict (1982) - As I've written before, this may be the greatest legal film of all time. It definitely contains Newman's best late career performance as a down-on-his-luck, hard-drinking lawyer who sees a medical malpractice case as his shot at redemption. It's a chance to see darker shades of the Newman persona and a gravitas that has come from a career of excellent performances.

The Color of Money (1986) - Newman finally won the best actor Oscar for his reprisal of the Eddie Felson role in this underrated Hustler sequel directed by Martin Scorsese. This time Felson serves as a mentor to a natural pool player (a terrific Tom Cruise) who he molds (for better-or-for-worse) into a manipulative hustler not unlike his former self. A powerful, visually dynamic film and one of my favorite Newman performances.

Love the actor, hate the person: The Gary Oldman conundrum

Gary Oldman

In case you haven't already heard, Gary Oldman thinks Mel Gibson got a bad rap.

Yeah, that Mel Gibson, the one who spews the most extreme Anti-Semitism and racism you've ever heard after he's had a few drinks.

Yes, the Mel Gibson who threatened his longtime girlfriend with violence repeatedly in funny/not funny surreptitiously recorded rants.

Oldman also casually remarked recently that Hollywood is "run by Jews" and that if you didn't vote for 12 Years a Slave as last year's picture then Hollywood's "politically correct" elite considered you a "racist."

What is the obsession with denigrating so-called "political correctness"? What does that term represent other than tolerance, racial, gender and sexual preference sensitivity? And that is horribly why?

I won't waste time arguing why these statements are wrong or untrue, I'll just say I'm deeply disappointed. Oldman is an actor I have always had immense respect for. He is a consummate character and he seemed to be a nice enough guy.

Now I am faced with a conundrum I am often faced with. I find his views repugnant and yet I've enjoyed his films and, if the new trailer for Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is any indication, I will continue to. I have enjoyed quite a few Mel Gibson movies in my time too for that matter.

When having these debates I always lean towards the concept that a person's craft or creativity should be separated from the individual. I am a fan of Roman Polanski as a director but I also think he was/is a rapist who deserves to be in prison instead of making major motion pictures.

This whole Gary Oldman thing got me thinking about other actors whose work I've always enjoyed, even loved, but who frankly make my head hurt half the time they open their mouths.

Clint Eastwood: That empty chair. That RNC stunt almost singlehandedly wiped away decades of good will. I always thought of Eastwood as sort of a libertarian but his appearance at the GOP's 2012 convention not only made me question his intelligence but also his sanity. I love his work as a filmmaker and a director but his off-screen behavior has often left me with a bad taste.

Chevy Chase: This man seems to live to break my heart. He has and remains my personal comedy idol. I grew up wanting to be this guy, and his onscreen persona will always be something I cherish. But off-screen there is just too much evidence to support the fact that he is an egotistical and generally mean-spirited person who doesn't play well with others, whether it be his SNL cast-mates from nearly 40 years ago or his far-too-brief stint on the sitcom Community.

James Woods

James Woods: One of Hollywood's greatest character actors is usually the best thing about any movie he is in (with a couple high profile exceptions). He seems incredibly smart and can be wickedly funny but for whatever reason the Obama administration has turned him into a reactionary nutcase. He has grown increasingly offensive with his rhetoric in recent years but alas I still admire his talent.

Tom Cruise: As I've written before, I have sort of been a Cruise defender. But reading Going Clear, Lawrence Wright's blistering expose of Scientology, has me second guessing my judgment. I think he has often been a terrific actor but he also seems totally unhinged. His egomania off-screen is always working against his performances and the success of his films. And his increasing outspokenness has only alienated me more.

Mickey Rourke: He was one of the greatest actors of his generation and yet he's been reduced to being a punchline on 30 Rock. After his promising comeback in The Wrestler, he's once again wasting his talent in terrible direct-to-DVD quality roles. This man is one of my favorite actors and yet he comes off as alternately insincere and contemptible. I lose patience with actors who repeatedly admit to taking roles purely for the paycheck. Especially in his case, when he's capable of so much better.

Jon Voight: This may be the most off-putting of them all. Voight was a great actor and movie star. His work in movies like Midnight Cowboy and Deliverance is impeccable, and he's done excellent character work in recent years too. But for some reason he drank the conservative Kool-Aid and started parading around on television claiming that our president is trying to indoctrinate our youth to become Communists. Color me confused.

I am obviously someone who wears his political views on his sleeve, but that said I don't have any real issues with say Bruce Willis, Sylvester Stallone or even Schwarzenegger, all right-wingers, but also all pretty tight-lipped and reasonable about it. Sure, Schwarzenegger was a governor and pretty proactive conservative but he was good-natured, which goes a long way with me.

What rubs me the wrong way about Oldman's remarks is there's an anger behind them which is a little troubling to me. All the people who you watch or listen to and enjoy are not going to live up the image you hold in your mind -- that's obvious to any adult. But it's still a bummer.

'The Hitcher': 1986 Rutger Hauer film is a horror masterpiece

Rutger Hauer in The Hitcher

Rutger Hauer is often overshadowed by the likes of Christopher Walken and Gary Oldman when film fans describe their favorite movie psychopaths.

But in my opinion, he may just be the greatest.

His role in 1986's The Hitcher, coupled with his work in the classic sci-fi noir Blade Runner, are both compelling works of art.

Of course, Blade Runner is widely recognized as a masterpiece, whereas The Hitcher is largely unknown and was re-made recently as a mediocre Sean Bean vehicle, further diminishing its reputation. It was reviled by critics when it first came out for being both implausible and relentlessly bleak -- which is a large part of why it's a genius horror film.

The plot is deceptively simple. A young guy (played by '80s heartthrob C. Thomas Howell), with no real backstory, is dozing as her drives along the highway during a thunderstorm. He picks up a hitchhiker, a man who calls himself John Ryder, who almost immediately threatens to kill him. The Howell character, horrified, asks Ryder what he wants from him and Ryder says "to stop me," a cryptic line, laced with deeper meaning.

Although the boy succeeds in pushing Ryder out of his car, this is just where the fun begins. Ryder seems to be imbued with some sort of omnipresent power. He continues to terrorize the Howell character in increasingly menacing ways and every time he commits a crime he manages to incriminate our hero when he does it.

Critics who viewed this film in 1986 just didn't get it. They complained that the Hauer character is unrealistic, that there's is no way he could show up where he does when he does and do the things he does. They also attacked the film for being violent without purpose (Siskel & Ebert called it "sick"). But the movie is not interested in sensationalism, it's about a sadistic mind game. This is what makes the movie intriguing and ripe for all sorts of interpretations.

Does Ryder have a death wish? The enigmatic character is a man of few words. Hauer's face, oozing both sensuality and insanity, speaks volumes. When he does talk he alludes to being tired and he spends much of the movie bating Howell to kill him, with caveats of course.

Rutger Hauer and C. Thomas Howell in The Hitcher

Is the entire movie a figment of Howell's imagination? One of the first shots of the film shows Howell falling asleep at the wheel of his car and nearly hitting an oncoming truck.

What if he indeed hit the truck and what we're seeing in a manifestation of his own personal hell?

The movie is largely bereft of gore and the action plays out in a tense but stately pace. I loved that the director, Robert Harmon, didn't MTV-edit the hell out of the picture and force easy jump scares. He lets tension build and early on establishes Ryder as so menacing that we come to believe he's capable of almost anything.

There's a scene late in the picture where Ryder has been arrested, is handcuffed, and being led to an armored police truck by about half a dozen officers, and you find yourself believing with the utmost confidence that Ryder will kill them all.

The Hitcher is a movie I like more and more each time I see it and it definitely ranks among my favorite scary movies of the 1980s. It deserves rediscovery as does a lot of the work of Rutger Hauer, who's remained a cult favorite for decades but is a truly great actor who deserves  to be celebrated and revered.

'Do the Right Thing' deserved the best picture Oscar 25 years ago

Rosie Perez and Spike Lee in Do the Right Thing

Do the Right Thing is one of my favorite films of all time.

It might be the best film I've ever seen on the subject of race.

And it's quite possibly the best thing Spike Lee has ever made (although his 1992 biopic Malcolm X gives it a run for it's money).

It came out 25 years ago this week and was inexplicably ignored by the Academy Awards, which chose to honor the forgettable (but feel good) Driving Miss Daisy instead.

All these years later, the movie has lost none of its power and insight. If anything it's both a sad reminder of how far Lee has fallen since his film-making heyday and how under-appreciated this movie was then and now.

It was only Lee's third major motion picture and he was only 32 years old when it came out (my age now). His accomplishment is staggering. The movie is teeming with life. From the vibrant cinematography (from frequent Lee collaborator Ernest Dickerson) to the pulse pounding music (supplied by Public Enemy and others) to warm and compelling performances from a diverse cast that includes Ossie Davis, John Turturro and the late Ruby Dee -- this movie has so much to enjoy and also a lot of content to provoke.

The action takes place on a steamy summer day in the predominately black Brooklyn neighborhood in Bed-Stuy. Tensions are bubbling between black and white, as well as with Latinos and Asians in the community -- but not in a trite, overblown Crash sort of way. The interactions are subtle and authentic yet brimming with wit and insight.

Bill Nunn in Do the Right Thing

I'll give you one example -- one of my favorite scenes in any movie ever. Lee's character (a pizza man named Mookie) frequently butts heads with his bigoted co-worker Pino (an excellent Turturro). Eventually Mookie pulls Pino aside and quizzes him about who his favorite pop culture icons are. They turn out to be all black -- legends of the 1980s: Eddie Murphy, Magic Johnson and Prince. Mookie earnestly asks him how he can throw the n-word and other racial insults around and yet revere black celebrities. Pino inarticulately tries to explain that those blacks are somehow "more than black."

This profound conversation -- which speaks to the heart of how race prejudice is deeply entwined with class -- leads to a surreal and infamous montage of different ethnic and social minorities (Jews, Koreans, Latinos, etc.) rattling off the most hateful (but also undeniably amusing) stereotypes about other cultures directly to the camera. The impact is startling and refreshing.

Lee was so in command of the cinematic form at this time. Even his missteps, like Mo' Better Blues, were still fascinating and incredibly watchable. Sometime after Bamboozled (2000) he fell off and the only glimmer of hope came in 2006 when he scored his biggest commercial success ever with the fun, fleet-footed heist film Inside Man and triumphed with his breathtaking documentary about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath, When the Levees Broke.

Since then, Lee seems content to revel in his angry man persona and make films that are alienating at best. Miracle at St. Anna was beautiful looking but a narrative mess and his low budget Red Hook Summer was offensively bad and, at times, difficult to watch. His Oldboy remake looked promising but it was oddly under-promoted and failed horribly at the box office. As Lee approaches 60 he risks irrelevance which is a tragedy because Hollywood needs more voices like his.

Regardless of what you may think of him and some of his films (he has been heavily criticized for his portrayals of women, for instance) he could never be accused of making mindless entertainment. In fact he has dared to confront the issue of race in ways that are both rare and emotionally satisfying.

When Hollywood attempts to raise the racial question they usually air on the side of life affirming liberal fantasies like The Blind Side, but a film like Do the Right Thing, with its violent, confrontational climax, isn't interested in making people pat themselves on the back.

It's sad frankly, that we were able to get this kind of thought-provoking entertainment back in 1989 and now we can only look to TV shows like The Wire to get some semblance of realism. Spike Lee may have lost his way but I will always cherish his work in his prime.

'To Kill a Mockingbird' still speaks volumes on race

Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird

This past Father's Day I had to privilege of attending the perfect screening to celebrate the occasion. I saw To Kill a Mockingbird at NYC's Film Forum, alongside a bunch of families and squirming kids.

And I can say without shame that the movie made me cry like a baby.

Not only does it feature Gregory Peck's most iconic performance of all time, as the ideal father figure Atticus Finch, but the 1962 adaptation of Harper Lee's classic novel also brilliantly addresses the class issues which are at the root of race prejudice, especially here in America.

I've seen this movie before maybe once or twice, but I have never been more overwhelmed by its power than I was this weekend. Perhaps, this was because I was experiencing it alongside impressionable youth, who couldn't even begin to comprehend what it would be like to grow up in segregation.

It may have also been my newfound appreciation for Peck, who has rapidly become one of my favorite leading men of Hollywood's golden age. The film could be dismissed as sentimental by some, but for my money it's one of the best films I've ever seen on the subject of race.

The movie is also brilliant when it comes to portraying the innocence (and lack thereof) of youth. Films today strive to make kids either punchline spewing accessories or little miniature adults with overly scripted quips. To Kill a Mockingbird got it right by using relatively inexperienced child actors who genuinely bonded with Peck on and off screen.

For those of you unfamiliar with the episodic story -- it tells the tale of a single father (Finch, played by Peck to perfection) who works as an attorney in the deep South and is raising a young son (Jem) and daughter (Scout). The kids get into mischief, largely centered around their preoccupation with an alleged neighborhood freak called Boo Radley, and watch as their father gallantly defends a black man (a heartbreaking Brock Peters) who has been falsely accused of rape.

I won't spoil the story for you if you haven't seen it but I will say that the picture is an indelible portrait of both good and evil, which I think lifts it above being a simple morality tale.

To Kill a Mockingbird cuts pretty deep for a pre-Civil Rights Movement movie. It may be hard to believe now but to even portray a black man as a martyr at that time was something of an act of rebellion.

There is a lot to unpack in this movie but I will focus on one key concept that I found especially compelling -- the racism is really about class, who ranks above who is the social hierarchy.

The ostensible villains in the piece are members of a poor, uneducated (and yes, bigoted) white family. The father beats (and it's suggested likely molests) his own daughter and the girl, in her hopelessness and desperation, has made overtures to Peters' character, who has wisely rebuffed them.

The pivotal moment in Peters' harrowing court testimony is when he says he "felt sorry" for the white woman, a cardinal sin in the segregated south. This simple utterance dooms his character as it did countless African-Americans who dared to show pride or dignity.

The other scene that I think illustrates the social structure dichotomy is the testimony of the girl. Any viewer can see she is lying under oath as Finch exposes her inconsistent testimony with relative ease. She snaps and delivers an angry tirade, directly addressing the jury of white men who she suggests are from a higher class than she is. She implores them to give her justice by sending a black man to his death and in uncertain terms implies that if they fail to do so they are tacitly admitting that she and he are equal.

Other great films on the topic of race (Do the Right Thing and Mississippi Burning come to mind) have tapped into this hypocrisy as well, but unfortunately far too often mainstream movies don't want to delve into the social and economic motivation for prejudice, they'd rather avoid nuance and provide easy victories for likable heroes.

To Kill a Mockingbird certainly has a likable hero, Atticus Finch was recently chosen by AFI as the greatest hero of modern cinema. And yet, he doesn't win, which is part of what makes this film great. The story takes place in the early 1930s when the threat of lynching was still very real. And Jim Crow laws were still in place by the time this film was released in 1962.

I always think it's important to keep history in perspective. My parents were both born in 1946. I am one generation away from bitter segregation. The film is both a classic and a telling harbinger of the times we live now.

'Cruising': Controversial, flawed film is ripe for rediscovery

Al Pacino in Cruising

William Friedkin's gay-themed crime melodrama Cruising is one of the most infamous films of the auteur-dominated period of the 1970s.

Released in 1980, it can be seen as something of a finale to a prolific era that saw the rise of film-making titans like Spielberg, Scorsese, Coppola, De Palma and Altman (just to name a few).

Friedkin has always been viewed as someone who had great promise but flamed out due to hubris and excess. He became a star with his one-two punch of critical and commercial hits: The French Connection (1971) and The Exorcist (1973).

And while Sorcerer (1977), his ambitious remake of The Wages of Fear (1953), flopped upon its initial release, it has since been rediscovered and re-evaluated, and is rightly viewed as one of the great, nail-biting thrillers of its day. Cruising, however is a different story.

Ostensibly a detective melodrama set in the seedy underworld of gay S&M bars, the Al Pacino vehicle was widely condemned as homophobic before it was even released and the production was plagued with protests and controversy. The movie never lived down its reputation and has for years been seen as low point in both Pacino and Friedkin's careers.

Time and distance have softened attitudes towards the film. Some of its most ardent critics now admit that, if nothing else, the film presents a fascinating time capsule of a pre-AIDS era in gay life in New York City. It's graphic depictions of gay sex acts (even fisting!) is shocking even by today's standards and the film is also simply gorgeous to look at.

The film also has its defenders. It certainly isn't anti-gay, even if it does present a very narrow and at times problematic view of gay life and ultimately, the movie doesn't dare dive fully into the psychological questions it raises, relying more on its procedural police plot whenever it threatens to get really interesting. That said, it's a very intriguing movie.

The lurid plot centers around a series of gruesome murders that appear to be perpetrated by a gay serial killer on other gay men. Pacino's character, a low key, shy cop named Steve Burns is recruited to go undercover essentially as bait because he fits the profile of the victims. Early on, there are moments that suggest the Burns is slightly off. He seems haunted and fairly rapidly he his forays into gay life seem to draw barely under-the-surface desires out of him. This is the most interesting part of the film but unfortunately the movie never quite goes far enough to illuminate his character's inner turmoil.

One of many evocative images in Cruising

And whenever the viewer starts to get the sense that perhaps the Pacino character is actually gay there is a quick obligatory love scene with his live-in girlfriend played by Karen Allen, who is a sketchily drawn character at best.

This is clearly a movie where quite a lot has been left on the cutting room floor.

Friedkin had to lose a lot of graphic sexual footage in order to avoid an X rating from censors. But it also seems like a lot of plot points and nuances have been lost in the editing process as well.

Sometimes, the murkiness is a positive for the film. For instance we see Pacino's character seem like he may indulge in a gay encounter and then we cut away. We never know if he actually is having sex with the men who approach him or not, and that ambiguity is compelling.

Later, we are led to think that Pacino's character may be committing the crimes himself -- which gives the movie an even more interesting depth because it seems to be more about the self-hatred of a closeted gay man as opposed to some sort of moralistic condemnation of the gay lifestyle.

Unfortunately, this is all staged too awkwardly to come together well enough for the film to be deemed anything close to a masterpiece. Still, it's a much more worthwhile film that it was originally perceived to be.

It features one of the quieter, more mysterious performances of Pacino's career and it has some pretty unforgettable, shocking and challenging moments in it. Few films would dare to open with a scene of NYPD officers forcing cross dressing prostitutes to perform sex acts on them.

On the other hand, while the movie does make earnest attempts to portray more humane and likable gay characters (particularly in the character of an affable neighbor of Burns), it also falls victim to some of the hopeless stereotyping of its time.

Cruising will probably never be remade, but it deserves to be re-seen.