'Juice' and what might have been with Tupac Shakur

Tupac Shakur in Juice

Revisiting the 1992 urban crime thriller Juice, twenty years after the death of its breakout star Tupac Shakur, is an edifying experience -- particularly for fans of the late hip-hop icon.

This is blasphemy in some circles, but I've always sort of agreed with the character Chris Rock played in Top Five when it comes to Shakur.

Sure, he may have morphed into a revolutionary political hero, but he also just as easily could have been the dark-skinned villain in any number of Tyler Perry movies.

It's easy to project a lot on to him, he certainly had a lot of potential both as an actor, rapper and just as a culture force to reckoned with. Whether has was actually the greatest rapper of all time is certainly debatable, but he may be the genre's most distinct star.

His unique and compelling charisma are on full display in Juice, a movie he not only steals but owns from the moment he appears on screen. Re-watching it I was surprised to see how far down he's billed -- especially since he is so prominently featured on the poster and because his manic character Bishop tends to set most of the action in motion.

Directed by longtime Spike Lee cinematographer Ernest Dickerson, Juice was one of many gritty, urban-themed crime films (Boyz n the Hood, Menace II Society) to come out of the early-1990s. They were not really exploitation films, and, if anything, these violent, profane movies were very much a reflection of times.

Today, some of the more crude aspects of the storytelling may not hold up as well, but there is an undeniably authentic energy that powers this film. It stars Omar Epps as Q, a teenage wanna be hip-hop DJ caught between his desire to pursue a legitimate career and his friends who seem to be drifting towards criminality.

The most volatile among his crew is Bishop (Shakur), who seems to have a death wish. He watches the James Cagney classic White Heat and actually romanticizesCagney's choice to burn alive rather than surrender to authorities, and he takes sadistic pleasure in the notion that he has the ability to take life.

In one famous scene he tells Epps' character that "I'm the one you need to worry about," but really he represents the kind of violent youth -- black or white -- we should all fear, the one who has nothing to lose.

And rather than present this character as a purely one-note bad guy, Shakur lends him a gravitas and vulnerability that might not be altogether evident on first viewing. But there is a wordless scene early in the film -- a moment Bishop shares with his shell-shocked father (its implied that he was a felon himself) -- that speaks volumes about his self-image.

Meanwhile, while Bishop is a bully, he too is bullied himself, and his madness is really a byproduct of his environment, not necessarily the result of some kind of inherent inhumanity.

"He knew different stuff from different facets of life," hie friend and Naughty by Nature frontman Treach recently said. "That's what made him be able to get into that character like that and make that character seem so real, because he had his own life experiences that made him phenomenal at bringing that out through the music and through the film."

Shakur would go on to act in a few more films, some more forgettable than others, but he always was eminently watchable on-screen. Who knows if he would go on to give Oscar-caliber performances, but he was a star for sure, and Juice is a true testament to that fact.

When Chevy Chase was cool: A 'Fletch' movie marathon

Fletch definitely influenced my personal fashion style (see above)

Last night my wife indulged me with a marathon of one of my all-time favorite movie characters and cinematic heroes -- Chevy Chase's Fletch. We watched the hit 1985 original and its underrated 1989 sequel back to back, and for me it was a welcome walk down memory lane.

These movies were a huge part of my childhood  -- I don't think I even appreciated how funny they were back then, but something about Chase's laconic deadpan style spoke to me and I've been emulating it in my real life ever since.

Sadly, Chase's career has largely become a case study in 'what ifs.' To see Fletch now is to see him at the peak of his comedic powers; he would make other funny films after this, but he would never push himself to work with directors who could get him outside of his comfort zone.

Had he done that, as Bill Murray eventually did, he might have had more longevity, but instead he retreated to horrendous family movies. Even his stint on the hip sitcom Community largely revolved around how clueless and out-of-date he was.

Chase deserved better. His apparently less-than- charming real-life persona aside, he had a unique and engaging style. Cocky, but not obnoxious. Smart, but also capable of clumsy slapstick.

Fletch provided Chase with the best vehicle for his rebellious WASP persona, and with director Michael Ritchie he had a collaborator who understood his rhythms and skill.

Ritchie is one of those great, unsung filmmakers. He did sillier mainstream fare like The Golden Child, but he also is responsible for some acerbic, interesting films like Prime Cut, The Bad News Bears, The Candidate and Downhill Racer, the latter two starring Robert Redford in two of his most complex roles.



Both Fletch films have sturdy narratives to hang their gags on -- they are mystery films that take advantage of some terrific character actors and locales -- through which the dry-witted Fletch must spin lies, dodge bullets (or angry dogs) and, usually, get the girl.

Films starring Saturday Night Live veterans got increasingly lazy and stupid in recent years (with Will Ferrell and some of the recent female breakout stars being a very prominent exception to the rule). It's hard to imagine Adam Sandler attempting anything as sophisticated as Fletch (although he was terrific in Punch-Drunk Love), but then again his appeal has always been more narrow.

It may be hard to believe now, but for a brief period Chase was being pitched as a modern era Cary Grant. His role in Foul Play certainly suggested he could be a plausible romantic lead. And his turn in Caddyshack is a marvel. But by the late '80s he seemed only interested in cashing paychecks and nearly all of his 90s output is unwatchable.

He also did plenty to tarnish his own reputation, by all accounts being a bully and a grump behind the scenes. But none of this detracts from my fanboy worship of his "cool" years -- when he was the fastest guy in the room with his quips and had the air of a true iconoclast.

This character -- who sticks it to everyone: the cops, the wealthy, his bosses-- is the guy I always wanted to be growing up, and sometimes, on a good day, am.

Chase was famous for his line, "I'm Chevy Chase, and you're not." but he'll always be Fletch for me.

'Magnificent Seven' isn't a game-changer, but it delivers the goods

Critics will likely say -- and perhaps already are -- that the new Magnificent Seven doesn't need to exist. It adds next to nothing new to the classic original (itself a re-imagining of The Seven Samurai) other than welcome multicultural casting, a lot more deadly shootings/stabbings and a more throbbing soundtrack.

They may have a point. Director Antoine Fuqua has never been known for his subtlety and he hits virtually every western cliche right on the head. And despite being stylishly made and well-acted, it's not really "about" anything.

And yet -- I really enjoyed it. Denzel Washington is at his badass best, showing more flashes of humor and warmth than he has in some of his disappointing recent work (like The Equalizer, also directed by Fuqua). Chris Pratt does a great star turn opposite him. And the rest of the cast is charming too, although some characters get more developed backstories than others.

It is a throwback western, very traditionalist and a little less fun than the original -- SPOILER ALERT -- they only break out the classic, rousing theme score in the closing credits. But that's only because the movie doesn't depart in any significant way from its source material.

It very violent -- in a way, westerns can get away with massive carnage like this, not so much because its cartoonish but because it's far enough removed from our reality that we can watch it with a bit of detachment. And it also maintains the original's semi-realistic streak -- SPOILER ALERT -- for instance, not every hero survives until the end.

Probably the most striking thing about the film though is the image of a town of mostly white people rescued by a multiracial crew of heroes led by the one-and-only Denzel. This is a major movie star role for a man that has earned every inch of his close-ups. Playing the hero fits him like a glove.

He is a little more portly now, and his once intimidating good looks have weathered. But, in his early 60s now, he is still a remarkable presence, and he always elevates the material and keeps it interesting.

There are missteps. Does the female lead have to wear cleavage baring tops throughout almost the entire film? A subplot involving Ethan Hawke is never fully justified or resolved sufficiently -- although it's nice to see him in one-on-one scenes with Denzel again, bringing back memories of their first pairing in 2001's Training Day (also directed by Fuqua). I liked Peter Sarsgaard's performance as a particularly sniveling villain -- but I do think the movie would have been better served by a more truly intimidating bad guy.

But this is rousing, audience pleasing entertainment featuring likable actors doing what they do best. Although this film is not a masterpiece, I am not sure that it could have been

'Get Carter' holds up as Michael Caine and UK's coolest film ever

Yesterday I had the privilege of seeing one of my all-time favorite gangster genre films -- the original Get Carter -- on the big screen for the first time, and boy, does this film still have bite.

Anchored by a never-better, cool-as-ice Michael Caine, this influential British film gets better every time I see it, and its sophistication is striking amid all of its surface level pleasures.

It's both a fascinating character study and a pretty straight ahead revenge thriller. Caine plays Jack Carter, something akin to an enforcer for a crime boss. We learn early on that his brother (who he wasn't apparently particularly close to) has been killed, and against the wishes of his superiors -- Carter decides to get even.

Caine is feline-like presence throughout, all barely concealed menace that eventually leads to florid explosions -- some funny, some furious -- that cement his status as one of the great movie stars of all time.

Jack Carter has run out of patience

The dialogue and settings work wonders for Caine too -- this is a dirty, grimy London, the underbelly which has served many great crime thrillers from the region. His Carter, despite his elegant dress and look, is an uncouth man -- given to doling out cash when he has erred and who has little if no respect for anyone but himself. He uses women largely as playthings, and men are there from him to either brush past or beat up, depending on his mood.

And yet, this theoretically repugnant character is eminently watchable, in part thanks to Caine (who delivers his dialogue with a sexy sneer), but also director Mike Hodges who establishes a methodical unraveling of the plot and some truly excellent sequences that are not too stylized and therefore don't date the film too much.

I've never seen the Sylvester Stallone remake -- I intend to, although I am well aware it's supposed to pale in comparison to the original -- and I imagine it would be virtually impossible to top this film. It's one of those movies that is just the perfect fusion of actor and character.

In fact, Jack Carter may be one of my favorite movie characters of all time, period.

The Brits really excel at this time of film -- see The Long Good Friday or Sexy Beast for example -- because their gangsters have a certain ruthless, flinty exceptionalism. They are usually immaculately dressed and articulate, so when they commit their brutality it has even more shock value and incongruity.

There is also an oddball vulnerability to their heroes. Caine's Carter is a pill popper and clearly unhinged. For all of his cultivated cool -- he becomes incensed at the notion of his family name being besmirched, even though he himself indulges in a life of crime.

Of course, every great gangster protagonist needs a fatal flaw -- but what is unique to British films in the genre is that decorum and saving face often take center stage.

Jack Carter is like one long middle-finger in the face of polite society. He enjoys killing people -- hence his gleeful final moments in the film -- and he doesn't for one second stop to think about the moral consequences of his actions. Characters like this are fun to indulge in the movies because they simply aren't palpable in real life -- and can't be or shouldn't be exalted.

But in the world of Get Carter, Caine is king -- and I will always worship this film for being the badass gem that it is.

'Never Seen It' - Episode 9: 'Rising Sun,' throwback '90s precedural

Remember when an aging Sean Connery was still a bankable movie star and a semi-plausible action lead?

Remember when Wesley Snipes was also bankable and still got leading roles in action movies that weren't released direct-to-DVD?

Remember when there used to be thrillers that simply revolved around cops -- in the present -- investigating a crime?

Even though Rising Sun, which was based on a best-selling Michael Crichton novel of the same name, came out in 1993 -- for a myriad of reasons, it feels like a period picture.

My wife Liz Rosado and I had never seen it before -- until this weekend -- and since it was on Instant Netflix, it became the subject of the latest episode of our ongoing podcast series: "Never Seen It."

For each episode, we watch a movie separately (we work very different hours, in case you were curious) and then come together and discuss our reactions for the first time for your amusement.

Check out the YouTube below to see what we think of this mixed-race moderate sized hit from the '90s and let us know if you agree.

 

'Sign O the Times' is a fantasy fulfilled for true Prince fans

Lost, long out of print films can often be a bummer when you finally see them and I'll admit I was nervous about Sign O' The Times. As a serious, dedicated Prince fan I've been hearing for years how it was the best document of the Prince concert-going experience committed to film (and perhaps that ever will be). Some have argued that it actually tops Purple Rain as a film (and some could make the case that as an album Sign may be better, if not more influential than Rain).

For reasons unknown, Sign O' The Times has not been widely seen or re-broadcast. It was briefly in theaters where it did little business despite rave reviews. You couldn't rent it, stream it, or download it.

But then I tracked down a pretty terrific blu ray transfer of the film (the only misstep is an apparently ripped from VHS version of "U Got the Look" which stands out poorly alongside the rest of this gorgeous film) and I'm happy to report that Sign O' the Times not only lives up to the hype but surpasses it.

Sheila and Cat

I was lucky enough to get to see Prince do his thing live once, and it's as close to a religious experience that I've had at a concert (although Beyonce certainly is approaching his league at a fast pace). Sign O' The Times, with some incredible staging and snippets of theatricality, replicates that experience -- it's raucous, sexy as hell and incredibly infectious.

It's hard to say whether it surpasses Purple Rain, a movie so iconic that even its imperfections are now a part of its appeal. This film certainly strips out the narrative from that film -- which many consider its weakest element -- and presents a pretty pure performance, full of ab libs and divergences.

With the exception of a Charlie Parker cover and "Little Red Corvette," the set list adheres to the 1987 album that shares the film's name. Backed by an impressive band -- which includes the stunning and talented Sheila E and Cat Glover -- Prince puts on a clinic of rock, funk, blues, jazz and soul that really is riveting and beautifully incapsulates why he was one of the greatest musicians of this past century.

Prince at his full powers

And while this may sound hyperbolic -- you have to understand that it's coming from someone who has watched a lot of Prince performances and listened to nearly all of his music. This is peak Prince, and for anyone who is sort of intrigued or new to the party, it's a perfect introduction.

Curiously, he directed it himself, and he shows a deft talent for presenting his songs in the most dynamic way possible. Some segments work like a music video, others feel like you are right there in the audience and the Purple One himself is singing directly to you.

I dare say they don't make movies like this anymore. I know concert films still exist, but for the likes of Justin Bieber. But this is a show put on by a master and it rivals Martin Scorsese's The Last Waltz and Jonathan Demme's Stop Making Sense as pure pop ecstasy.

I am still digesting this movie as I have literally been waiting years to see it -- and watching it now is bittersweet -- because we lost Prince too soon earlier this year. Still, this is an amazing part of his legend that will live on forever.

Why 'Mo' Better Blues' is another one of Spike Lee's masterpieces

The flaws of Mo' Better Blues are all pretty self evident.

It's stuffed with some of Spike Lee's more grating indulgences: less well-developed female characters, preposterous (even bougie) character names like Bleek, Indigo and Shadow, and unnecessary asides about contemporary sports.

But viewing it now, just over 25 years after it was first released, it's hard not to be in awe of its audacity -- particularly its bravura final minutes which beautifully portray a burgeoning family with little dialogue and lots of heartwarming imagery.

The movie was almost destined to disappoint back in 1990; despite the presence of then rising star Denzel Washington, the story doesn't have the scope or the significance of his previous masterwork, Do the Right Thing. But it's not supposed to. What may have been lost on many viewers over the years is that this may be (aside from Crooklyn) Lee's most personal film.

His father was a dedicated and struggling jazz musician after all, and the main character's alienating genius could easily be seen as a stand-in for the director's own. And the movie, which is often improvisatory and visually striking is a lot like Lee's id run wild.

Do some of the music sequences run way too long? Absolutely. And does Lee present us with a truly problematic portrayal of Jewish characters? No doubt about it. But we are so rarely treated to films that are so teeming with vitality and style, that as Lee fans we forgive it.

It's such a pleasure to watch Denzel go toe-to-toe with a young Wesley Snipes as both his friend and nemesis, to see the late Robin Harris do his peerless insult comic routine or the unsung character actor Dick Anthony Williams working wonders with a small role as Denzel's proud father.

This is not necessarily a realistic film -- it's hyper-real. The whole movie glistens. It both seems of its time and a period film. And the structure -- like a great jazz song itself -- is nontraditional. Some scenes meander, others diverge, and in the last few minutes they reach a crescendo which has an unexpectedly poignant impact.

Denzel & Spike

I miss the Lee of this era tremendously -- although I feel like the following year's Jungle Fever collapses under its own ambitions -- he seemed less self-conscious back then and more willing to explore the nuances and grey areas of his characters. Denzel's Bleek Gilliam isn't an altogether likable or sympathetic character for much of the film, but is always watchable.

In later films, Lee seems not to trust his audience to interpret the work for themselves -- so subtlety and wit go out the window in exchange for sermonizing and defensive self-aggrandizement. His movies almost always look amazing and usually are at least interesting (setting aside his truly dreadful Oldboy remake). But with the exception of Inside Man and When the Levees Broke, I've been bummed out by most of his work over the last 15 years or so.

Mo' Better Blues, however, now stands out as Lee in his prime. Not only is he an endearing and amusing screen presence himself, but he had the good sense to showcase some of the best and more unique young black actors of his generation and let them strut their stuff.

His partnership with Denzel Washington in particular is deservedly the stuff of legend. Two years later they would re-team for quite possibly the best film of both their careers -- Malcolm X-- and they would reunite again for He Got Game and Inside Man.

I've been on record in the past, praising Denzel as one of the best actors of all time. And I am a voracious consumer of the "Denzel Washington Is the Greatest Actor of All Time Period" podcast. But there is something really kinetic that happens when he works with Spike Lee, that doesn't happen when he is directed by anyone else.

Lee brings a humor and eccentricity out of Denzel, as well as a looseness, that you wish the movies would exploit more. As one of our most successful and well-liked movie stars, Denzel certainly has earned the right to diversify his on-screen persona.

I only hope that he and Lee get the chance to make sweet music together again soon.

'Don't Breathe' is another spectacular late summer surprise

My luck has got to run out sometime. The last two times I've been to the movies I've seen films I've read little about -- other than a couple rave film reviews -- and gone in with next to no preconceived notions, and have walked out thoroughly entertained.

Hell or High Water and now Don't Breathe, are both very much genre movies, and both films play with some of the conventions you come to expect in their respective milieus, but both also spring enough ingenious surprises and terrific performances to feel fresh and even exciting.

I'd put Don't Breathe a couple notches below my favorite chiller of the year, the criminally under-seen Green Room, but it's still fantastically creepy.

It's being marketed as a horror film and it is, but like Green Room its scares are plausible and grounded. I don't have anything against supernatural scary movies per se, but I do think they're harder to pull off. And the more reliant they are on special effects the easier it is to detach yourself from what you're viewing and not be afraid.

Don't Breathe is more relentlessly authentic. It's plot is so simple and accessible I'm surprised no industrious indie filmmaker had attempted it before. Three petty thieves hope to get out of the business by ripping off a blind, aging Iraq War veteran who has been awarded a big settlement for the accidental death of his daughter.

Stephen Lang in Don't Breathe

But just when you start to feel some sympathy for this man the plot thickens and your loyalties shift, all why every breath and every step takes on huge proportions.

Also stalking the scene (just like Green Room) may be one of the most terrifying dogs in movie history.

The cast is largely unknowns -- although character actor Stephen Lang (probably best known for his villainous role in Avatar) works wonders with what could have been a thankless role of the older man. He is aged in the face, but his physique is incredibly imposing -- and his serpentine movements suggest a real history of military service.

The leads all have sympathetic, open faces and give believable performances, but this is really a showcase for the director Fede Alvarez (an acolyte of Sam Raimi), who did a decent remake of the original Evil Dead a few years back, but outdoes himself here.

The movie is doing well at the box office, which is refreshing considering how many great films have tanked this year. Perhaps its a sign that even horror movie fans -- seemingly the least stingy moviegoers -- are starting to refine their palate too.

This is no gorefest, and it does't rely on many -- if any -- cheap jump scares or thrills on the soundtrack. There are a couple plot holes here and there and a grisly third act reveal that in lesser hands could plunge the movie into torture porn territory.

But instead, the script stays smart -- and constantly defies your expectations. From its striking opening shot to its darkly ironic ending, this one is a real keeper and further proof that some of the most interesting mainstream movie-making of late has been in the realm of scary movies.

'Never Seen It' Episode 8: Gene Wilder goes west in 'The Frisco Kid'

The passing of Gene Wilder had my wife Liz Rosado and I delving into one of the deeper cuts in the late comic's all-too-short filmography -- the 1979 western The Frisco Kid.

It flopped upon its first release -- sandwiched between Wilder's two biggest triumphs opposite Richard Pryor (Silver Streak and Stir Crazy), and Harrison Ford's first two turns as the charismatic scofflaw Han Solo in the original Star Wars trilogy.

I'd seen a few seconds of the movie in the past but had never sat down to really watch it -- which is surprising considering what a big fan I am of both lead actors.

Does the movie live up their reputations? Is it a forgotten gem ripe for rediscovery? Or is it a justly overlooked minor movie?

Click on the YouTube below to find out what Liz and I think after viewing this movie separately and then coming together to discuss it for the first time:

'Superfly' vs. 'The Mack': Which is the better blaxploitation film?

For no particular reason, I recently visited two of the most iconic, oft-quoted movies of the so-called blaxploitation era, Superfly and The Mack.

In the past, I've enjoyed both in a kind of transgressive, cultural curio sort of way -- but under close inspection I've determined that The Mack is a legitimately great film while Superfly is merely a good one.

Of course, both films have to be viewed in the context of their times. They're both extremely low budget (although The Mack's production values are considerably higher) and are problematic in terms of their portrayal of women to say the least.

Both films also glorify a criminal lifestyle that is ostensibly indefensible -- in Superfly's case, the drug trade, and in The Mack's, the prostitution business.

Both films also attempt to layer their films with some sociopolitical messaging and subtext, and both are anchored by a compelling protagonist who effectively conveys a certain angst and ennui about their stock and trade.

But I'm a Mack man. The film is a very authentic deep dive into the trials and tribulations of pimpdom. And once you get past the wild costumes and the often hyperbolic dialogue, there's a fairly sophisticated film there.

Ron O'Neal in Superfly

The 'hero' -- Goldie -- struggles to justify making a fortune within a white power structure -- and clashes with his righteous, politically active brother who wants to see him put his considerable intelligence and skills to a more worthwhile cause.

Max Julien, who plays Goldie, is unlike any other blaxploitation leading man. He's not traditionally handsome, is soft spoken and not necessarily hyper-masculine -- but that helps hims tremendously when he is either playing comedically off Richard Pryor (in a memorable early role) or doing some of the more emotional work his role requires.

I especially like a scene where Goldie confronts the requisite corrupt white cops that always populate this type of film, and taunts them about how they secretly wish they looked and dressed like him -- a theory which is borne out to some degree in a later grotesque but fascinating scene, where one of the white officers fondles a very curvy black woman in bed.

Superfly on the other hand is essentially a glorified music video. The Curtis Mayfield score is phenomenal -- so there are no huge complaints there -- but there isn't much of a coherent story to support it. The same goes for Ron O'Neal's titular performance. A striking looking actor, with Shakespearean training, he deserved a better film and he is probably the most watchable thing about Superfly, which is so simplistic at times it feels amateurish.

But this was and is a film that is more about what it represents than what it actually is. The finale, which has the drug pusher 'hero' not only beating up the cops but blackmailing them too, would have been a moment of triumph for black audiences in 1972.

And while some may have been perturbed by the lack of judgment the film displays for dealing drugs, Superfly (a.k.a. Priest) is supposed to be a symbol of industriousness in the face of very few options, particularly for men of color in the inner city.

Still, cinematically, it's unbearably dated and slight, while The Mack has more to offer than its soundtrack and style. It shows how bizarre and oddly principled the "pimp game" is -- but it also outlines a still ongoing conversation about the best way for a poor person of color to get over in this world -- legitimately or illegitimately. It's not a masterpiece, but even if it were for that aspect alone, it will be a movie I revisit over the years.