Al Pacino

  • American Traitor: The Trial of Axis Sally (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, November 2021) Rehabilitating reviled historical figures is a favourite game of filmmakers, but not all of them are equally skilled at making their point. Watching American Traitor, it’s easy to get a sense that the writers and the director may have not picked the most deserving subject for redemption. Telling us about “Axis Sally,” an American woman making propaganda broadcasts from Berlin aimed at American soldiers and citizens, the film goes back and forth between her trial in post-war America (where we’re told that she’s American most hated woman) and her activities before and during the war. Al Pacino plays a reluctant lawyer asked to defend someone he loathes, but don’t expect too much out of that subplot, except a last-minute change of mind and a patented Pacino speech about American values that almost makes you forget that this is someone being tried for treason against the United States. The film goes overboard in trying to make “Axis Sally” a victim of patriarchy, most notably in inventing a sexual assault scene featuring no less than Goering (and her reaching for a gun in the middle of it). But it doesn’t work — American Traitor can’t quite make the case for her, and has to contend with the historical record of her convicted for treason. Meadow Williams, playing the lead character, is surprisingly flat in a role that should be far more animated — a few Internet sources have pointed out that the actress is independently wealthy after inheriting from her tycoon husband, and also co-produced the film. You can connect the dots. No matter the behind-the-scenes explanation, American Traitor is a dud: Dead-end topic, dull acting, and misguided execution.

  • Cruising (1980)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Criterion Streaming, August 2021) In Hollywood history, Cruising is notable for its contribution to queer cinema… and that’s not often meant as a compliment. Featuring Al Pacino as a (heterosexual) policeman asked to go undercover in New York City’s gay community to draw out a serial killer, the film created a storm of controversy upon release. The then-risqué subject matter was attacked as cheap exploitation by conservative pundits, but gay commentators also saw it as a terrible representation of NYC’s gay community as being dominated by BDSM enthusiasts. Cruising’s most admirable legacy, in fact, may have been to lead indirectly to the creation of The Celluloid Closet in an attempt to address Hollywood’s troubling legacy in portraying homosexuality on-screen. I’m clearly not well-placed to discuss the topic, but even to me, Cruising is an exemplary lesson in showing the importance of diversity. In-universe, it’s a lurid thriller set in motion largely because the NYPD doesn’t have what it takes to effectively investigate a serial killer preying in a specific community. (You can ask anyone in Toronto about a real-world tragic example of this.)  Out-universe, there are clear signs that the film suffers from being made by outsiders looking in: The BDSM leather aspect goes from a potential visual leitmotif to being central to the way the community is portrayed, and this freak-show aspect carries over to plotting that gets very confused the moment it could explore more interesting issues. As Cruising gets closer to its conclusion, it seems to go into a gay panic of its own and passes off ambiguity as a climax. (Have a look at this rather terrific analysis for more.)  A 2021+ remake of Cruising from gay filmmakers would be far more satisfying because it would be able to be more honest and go beyond the “wow, look at that!” freak-show factor in order to get to what’s interesting about the story. Right now, though, that 1980 version of Cruising is more interesting as an object of debate than as a thriller in its own right: Even writer-director William Friedkin can’t paper over the wrongness of its conception with his customary better-than-average execution.

  • The Irishman (2019)

    The Irishman (2019)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2020) To anyone closely keeping track of Martin Scorsese’s career, The Irishman arrives as a clear late-career entry – the kind of film that plays as much as a narrative as a reflection of the films previously made under his direction. At first glance, it does look like many of Scorsese’s celebrated crime epics: a multi-decade odyssey through the murky world of east-coast union corruption, organized crime and veteran hitmen. It features Robert de Niro, Al Pacino and Joe Pesci, with special effects technology used to portray them from the 1950s to the 2000s. It has flashes of Scorsese’s directing style at its most vivid, with individual sequences playing like virtuoso riffs on the content of the film: There’s a particularly good sequence midway through in which a hitman ponders his choices for an upcoming hit, prepares and executes it despite not exactly going to plan. But, at the same time, The Irishman does play like a pre-retirement capstone, as the director deals heavily in themes that make more sense from an older filmmaker’s perspective. There is a moment where the narration sends nearly every single character to death or retirement, and you’re sure that this is the end of the film. But there are still thirty minutes and an unresolved framing device to go, and that’s when The Irishman strikes out in its own territory – telling us about the uneasy retirement of an accomplished hitman, the estrangement from his family, the gradual disappearance of his friends and the inevitable press of time, transforming a stone-cold killer in a frail old man liable to be taken out by even the slightest health problem. That’s what transforms The Irishman into something special, and something that befits Scorsese’s evolving filmography: he’s not putting together Mean Streets anymore. Of course, there’s a price to pay for such a substantial epilogue: the film is very long and feels even longer as the years go by and we dig ourselves out of no less than two framing devices and various flashbacks. There are a lot of characters to follow, and the way the film fits in history, often in oblique detail, is meant to be interpreted by those who have a decent grasp of post-WW2 American history, and specifically everything about Jimmy Hoffa. Some will argue that The Irishman would have done best as a miniseries, and, curiously enough, I only half-agree with that statement: Scorsese makes movies, not episodes of a TV show, and while that’s a distinction increasingly irrelevant to anyone but purists, it’s still a significant difference in matters of filmography. I enjoyed it, but I was really wishing for faster pacing at times. Still, The Irishman is an important milestone in Scorsese’s ongoing work: while we may wish for him to keep working forever, it does feel like the kind of work that can stand as a capstone.

  • The Panic in Needle Park (1971)

    The Panic in Needle Park (1971)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2020) If you put it in a historical context, The Panic in Needle Park comes at an unsettling time in American history: fresh off the idealism of the 1960s, and yet confronting the scourges of rising violence, urban blight and increasing drug addiction. The film focuses on that last issue (with the others being not too far away), with Al Pacino in his first leading role, Kitty Winn, and a supporting role for Raul Julia in his screen debut. The story is simple and sordid, following two self-destructive drug addicts as they fight with the world and themselves. Typical of the early 1970s New Hollywood (even if entirely shot in New York City), it’s an incredibly gritty film, wallowing in the despair of Upper West Side poverty. Addiction soon turns to prostitution, violence, arrest and other problems, and the film doesn’t sugarcoat the consequences, nor does it offer much of an optimistic conclusion. It’s dated to the point of being a time capsule in terms of cinema and topic matter—almost a documentary, which is helped along by the film’s cinema-verité approach. Some of the scenes of drug injection were so shocking at the time that they earned the film an X rating not solely based on nudity or violence. Accordingly, The Panic in Needle Park is not fun at all to watch, but it’s generally less exploitative and more interesting than many of the more outlandish urban violence movies of the time.

  • Frankie and Johnny (1991)

    Frankie and Johnny (1991)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, February 2020) Here we have Al Pacino and Michelle Pfeiffer in a middle-aged romance set against a background of petty criminality and restaurant shifts—and it’s based on a play based on a song. I’m not sure there’s anything more to say about Frankie and Johnny: this is a relatively low-octane romantic comedy (or rather romantic non-tragedy, because while it’s not exactly funny, it doesn’t end with everybody dying either) featuring two actors able to sink their teeth into more demanding material. The tone is resolutely low-key (although Pacino does get a chance to rave a little bit) and the result is fit to be watched by anyone, whether they’re interested in the actors, the premise or the prospect of a middle-of-the-road film that ends on a positive note. Director Garry Marshall was already an experienced hand at directing romantic comedies back in 1991 and the result is solid without being overly showy. The person who benefits the most from Frankie and Johnny is Pfeiffer, having a chance to play a solid dramatic role while toning down (but not too much) her movie-star looks. There’s a bit of a disconnect between the very domestic, working-class nature of the story being told and the way it’s been given to two mega-charm actors, but that’s Hollywood suspension of disbelief for you.

  • Sea of Love (1989)

    Sea of Love (1989)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2020) Prime-era Al Pacino is always a treat, and seeing him at work in a neo-noir thriller like Sea of Love is even better. It was a significant film in his career: the first after a four-year hiatus following a significant box-office bomb, it also set the stage for the grander-than-life hoo-ha Pacino streak that was further developed in his next few movies, lasted for the next ten-fifteen years and is still what we think about when we think about Pacino. As far as narrative goes, Sea of Love is simple, nearly archetypical stuff, what with Pacino playing a cop tracking down a serial killer preying on men posting Lonely Hearts classified ads, and then falling for the primary suspect. Violence and lust, with a bit of an unexpected ending to shake things up. Pacino’s quite good here—not quite as intense as later movies, and slightly forlorn around the edges by looking for love in all the wrong places. Ellen Barkin is surprisingly attractive here—and even looks like Helen Hunt at times. John Goodman is not bad in a supporting role, and there are a few more known names in the roster. While I’ll maintain that the 1990s were a golden age of sorts for mid-scale thrillers, you can see Sea of Love pointing the way, and bridging the gap between the 1980s neo-noir movement (plus the reactionary “killer women” streak of the late 1980s) and the later surge of suspense films. Sea of Love is not the best at anything, but it’s certainly watchable without effort, and as I said—Pacino plus neo-noir is a great mixture.

  • Dick Tracy (1990)

    Dick Tracy (1990)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Second Viewing, In French, On Cable TV, January 2019) Back in 1990, Hollywood really wanted audiences to go see Warren Beatty’s Dick Tracy. After the success of Batman in 1989, it had been designated as the most likely contender for the Summer Box-Office crown. I remember the overwhelming marketing push. It didn’t quite work out that way: While Dick Tracy did decent business, movies such as Ghost and Die Hard 2 did much better. Still, the film had its qualities (it did get nominated for seven Academy Awards) and even today it does remain a bit of a curio. Much of its interest comes from a conscious intention to replicate the primary colours of the film’s 1930s comic-book pulp origins: the atmosphere of the film is gorgeous and equally steeped in Depression-era gangster movies and comic-book excess. A tremendous amount of often-grotesque prosthetics were used to transform a surprising ensemble cast of known names (Al Pacino, Dustin Hoffman, James Caan … geez) into the caricatures of Tracy’s world. Beatty himself shows up as Tracy, square-jawed and willing to give his best to a film he also directed and produced. Madonna also shows up, but she ends up being more adequate than anything else. Dick Tracy’s big twist is very easy to guess, but this isn’t a film that you watch for the overarching plot: it’s far more interesting when it lingers in the nooks and corner of its heightened vision of 1930s cops-vs-gangsters cartoons. Visually, the film holds its own by virtue of being one of the last big-budget productions without CGI: the matte paintings are spectacular, and you can feel the effort that went into physically creating the film’s off-kilter reality. The question here remains whether the film would have been better had it focused either on a more realistic gangster film, or an even more cartoonish film. Considering the original inspiration, there was probably no other option than an uncomfortable middle ground. In some ways, I’m more impressed by Dick Tracy now than I was when I saw it in 1990 (at the drive-in!)—I wasn’t expecting as much, and I’m now more thankful than ever that it lives on as how big budget 1990 Hollywood rendered the gangster 1930s.

  • Serpico (1973)

    Serpico (1973)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2018) As I watch more and more movies from the sixties and seventies, it seems to me that the characteristic grittiness of the seventies was as much of a reaction to the breakdown of the Hayes Code (and associated social conventions) as anything else. Suddenly free to show the world is as much unpleasant detail and harsh language as they wanted, filmmakers went far overboard and the result speaks for itself. (The tendency corrected itself in the late seventies with the rise of the audience-friendly blockbuster, but that’s a thesis best discussed elsewhere.) Serpico clearly redrew the classic template for most undercover-cop movies, delving deep into matters of police corruption through the eyes of an idealistic young police officer played by the explosive Al Pacino. (Sadly, the worst consequence of catching the film on a French channel is losing Pacino’s distinctive voice.)  The film feels grimy and ugly, set during New York’s increasingly desperate period and reflecting the exploitative atmosphere of the time’s films. It’s still rather good, but some of the atmosphere can feel overdone at times. Pacino himself is very likable, which helps in navigating the bleak moral landscape of a police force thoroughly corrupted by a culture of graft and payouts. It’s not quite as violent as expected, but the atmosphere does help in creating an atmosphere in which the worst can always be expected. Sidney Lumet’s direction is solid enough that the film only feels a bit too long today—and much of that length is due to sequences that have been redone so often that they feel like clichés today. It may not pleasant, but there is an undeniable atmosphere to Serpico that still resonates.

  • Heat (1995)

    Heat (1995)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Second viewing, On DVD, November 2017) I distinctly recall seeing Heat on video in the late nineties, but couldn’t find any review of it anywhere in my archives. Oh well—it’s a good excuse to revisit one of the best crime movies of its decade. As it turns out, I had forgotten a lot about the film and had the pleasure of rediscovering it again. Sure, I remembered the dinner conversation between de Niro and Pacino. Of course, I remembered the downtown LA shootout. But it turns out I didn’t remember half of it, and nearly nothing of the rest of the movie. Long but impressively dense, Heat compares well to the best of Hong Kong crime cinema in showing policemen and criminals as two sides of a similar coin, and finding humanity in stock characters. It’s a sprawling story with roughly a dozen subplots, and I have a feeling that it would best be presented today as a Netflix miniseries rather than a movie. Still, what we see on-screen in slightly less than three hours is mesmerizing enough: A convincing take on mid-nineties Los Angeles, featuring a variety of characters with rich lives. The script has moments of street poetry, and the action sequences hit hard. It surely helps that the casting of the film is amazing. Beyond having Robert de Niro and Al Pacino as co-leads, the cast is rich down to small roles played by then-obscure Danny Trejo and Natalie Portman. Take a look at the cast list and see Val Kilmer, Jon Voigt, Tom Sizemore, Amy Brenneman, Ashley Judd, Wes Studi, Dennis Haysbert, William Fichner, Tom Noonan, Hank Azaria, Henry Rollins, Jeremy Piven … it just doesn’t stop. Still, Pacino and de Niro get most of the glory here, with roles seemingly tailor-made for them—their dinner face-off is crackling good, and still exceeds the entirety of their movie-long reunion in Righteous Kill. Pacino is particularly in his element here, and his verbal excesses match the script. (Fans of TMZ will recognize that the “GREAT ASS!!!” meme/clip comes from here.)  Otherwise, it’s Michael Mann’s show. While I’ve found many of his more recent movies to be pretentious, overlong and underwhelming, Heat is where nearly everything he’s got is used at its best advantage. Los Angeles looks brilliant, the direction is weighty in a way that matches the film and the actors all do their utmost best. I can quibble about a few lengths (especially late in the film, with a drawn-out final face-off), but I find that my first-viewing appreciation of the film has been replaced by a much more positive assessment after this re-watch.

  • …and justice for all. (1979)

    …and justice for all. (1979)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2017) For a movie that’s nearly forty years old, And Justice for All still works remarkably well. It’s recognizably from the late seventies, but it tackles evergreen notions of idealism versus cynicism, as exemplified by an impetuous lawyer (Al Pacino, in a career-establishing performance) stuck between his ideals and the realities of the judicial system. It’s very darkly humorous (call it a courtroom drama with a body count) but it doesn’t make the mistake of being nihilistic: throughout, we can cheer for our protagonist as obstacles pop up. Pacino is terrific, director Norman Jewison keeps everything at a slow boil, old-school veteran John Forsythe makes for a loathsome villain, Christine Lahti is good in her big-screen debut and Jeffrey Tambor also pops up as an unhinged lawyer. (Almost all of the characters are unhinged in their own way, but that’s the film.) While the script is riddled with contrivances and satirical moments, it’s that bigger-than-life quality that gives And Justice For All it peculiar charm and timeless appeal.

  • Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

    Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, April 2017) Forty years later, there is still something remarkable about Dog Day Afternoon’s off-beat crime thriller. Based on a true story in a way that sets it apart from most formulaic fiction, this is a bank robber/hostage thriller with enough unusual moments to feel fresh even after four decades of imitators. The closest equivalent I can think of remains 2006’s Inside Man—down to the very New York feel of the story. Watching the film is a reminder of Al Pacino’s early explosive screen persona—there’s a good reason why the “Attica!” sequence will forever be part of his highlight reel. Otherwise, the stars here are the quirky screenplay (in which the lead hostage taker has numerous scenes outside the bank and a complicated personal life) and Sidney Lumet’s matter-of-fact direction. Dog Day Afternoon is a film of moments—not necessarily the predictable ending, but the way it still twists and turns familiar genre convention into something that feels real and credible. Witness, for instance, the incredible over-reaction to a single gunshot midway through the movie—a welcome change of pace after movies in which entire magazines of ammunition get emptied without as much as a shrug. It is, in other words, still a remarkably enjoyable film. It has become a great period piece, and little of its impact has been blunted by the usual Hollywood formula.

  • Carlito’s Way (1993)

    Carlito’s Way (1993)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, February 2017) While I gather than Carlito’s Way was only a middling financial and critical success back in 1993, it’s one of those films that grow even better with time. I have a few theories as to why the decades have been kind to the movie. For one thing, I think it’s the kind of top-class crime thriller that were omnipresent for a while, and then not so much. So what if it’s similar to Scarface and The Untouchables? Those movies were awesome! In 2017, Carlito’s Way is a quasi-refreshing throwback to muscular crime cinema back when it was synonymous with A-class budgets rather than straight-to-video releases. It features Al Pacino in terrific younger form (sporting a glorious beard), which is best appreciated now rather than at a time when he was almost over-exposed. It benefits immensely from director Brian de Palma’ kinetic camera work, swooping and gliding into scenes, cackling as it prepares straight-up suspense sequences and delivers all of the cheap thrills that we can expect from a crime thriller. Carlito’s Way may not measure up to Scorcese, but it has strong thrills to deliver in an endearing exploitative way. David Koepp’s script cleverly packs a lot in a decent time, taking a look at a killer trying to get out of the business but predictably failing to do so. Sean Penn is almost unrecognizable (yet iconic, as per GTA: Vice City) as a completely crooked lawyer, while Penelope Ann Miller, John Leguizamo and Luis Guzman turn in good supporting performances. (Pre-stardom Viggo Mortensen even shows up in a non-glamorous role as a disabled ex-gangster) It all adds up to a slick, enjoyable crime drama the likes of which we don’t see enough these days. Carlito’s Way has grown in stature over the past quarter-decade and a fresh look at it today only confirms that it’s a strong film.

  • Scent of a Woman (1992)

    Scent of a Woman (1992)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, August 2016) The reason to watch Scent of a Woman isn’t as much the well-worn mentor/prodigy plot (which is structurally similar to Finding Forrester, which I coincidentally saw just a week ago) than with its memorable lead character as portrayed by one of Al Pacino’s career-best performance. Colonel Frank Slade is a piece of work: old, blind but intensely charismatic despite his abrasive personality, he has a secret plan and drags a young man through a wild weekend in New York, at the end of which he intends to kill himself. Meanwhile, the student protagonist wrestles with matters of integrity and future prospects. Their interaction makes up most of Scent of a Woman, considerably enlivened by Pacino’s “Hoo-ah!” and his propensity for straight talk. (I suspect that most men who aspire to elderly crankiness can try to emulate his character, but don’t have what it takes to achieve it.) The movie is successful at what it wants to be, although (like many of director Martin Brest’s films) it’s far too long for its own good: At more than two hours and a quarter, Scent of a Woman doesn’t have the plot complexity required to sustain its duration. (Unfortunately, it’s tough to decide what should be cut, and if some of the film’s greatest character moments would be gone along the way.) Chris O’Donnell is OK as the young audience stand-in whose mission is to be amazed by Slade’s behaviour, while Philip Seymour Hoffman shows up in his big-screen debut. The ending is a bit cheap and conventional, but it’s the journey alongside an impressive character that makes Scent of a Woman worth seeing.

  • Phil Spector (2013)

    Phil Spector (2013)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2013) Given how little TV-as-TV I watch, I never expected to mark an entire Emmy category as “complete”, but in-between HBO’s Behind the Candelabra, Parade’s End, The Girl and now Phil Spector, I’m all caught-up with the 2013 “Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Miniseries or a Movie” category even before it’s awarded.  There’s certainly no finer reason to watch Phil Spector than to see good acting from Al Pacino and Helen Mirren, facing each other down as, respectively, a powerful music industry executive accused of murder and one of his defense lawyer.  It’s based the true story of Spector’s first trial (although not really, as the opening disclaimer sort-of-clarifies), but it’s perhaps best appreciated as a standalone court drama, featuring a pair of highly unusual characters.  Al Pacino is his usual intense self as Spector; he even gets a change to indulge in his signature rants late in the film.  Meanwhile, Mirren is in a class of her own as a hypochondriac but steel-nerved lawyer with an uncanny ability to defend her client no matter the circumstances.  (Phil Spector’s look at a high-priced defense, with war room and expert-driven strategies, is worth a look by itself.)  The film may indulge in showing the most eccentric aspect of Spector’s personality, but it’s also somewhat sympathetic to him, creating reasonable doubt that he may not have actually committed the murder for which he was accused.  Phil Spector remains a made-for-TV movie, but with David Mamet writing and directing for HBO, it features high-quality dialogue and decent production values: if nothing else, it’s a good way to enjoy good actors playing interesting people.  Al Pacino as Phil Spector?  That’s always worth watching.

  • Stand Up Guys (2012)

    Stand Up Guys (2012)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2013) Getting old isn’t easy, and that goes for actors as much as for criminals.  Stand Up Guys has the merit of addressing both by featuring Al Pacino and Christopher Walken as a pair of aging gangsters trying to figure out the rest of their lives during one particularly event-worthy night.  Pacino’s character is freshly out of prison, while Walken’s character has orders to kill him before the night is over.  What happens next is a blend of good screenwriting, decent directing and capable veteran actors: Stand Up Guys becomes a breezy way to pass an hour and a half, coupled with a few things to say about aging and how people can break free from their past.  Some of the humor is extremely easy (much of the bordello scenes read like wish-fulfillment for older men) but some of the rest feels on-target as a reflection of older-tired characters that can’t wait for the end to come.  After a slow start, Stand Up Guys improves midway through as Alan Alda joins the proceedings for a few faster minutes.  While the episodic structure of the film can’t patch over a few unfortunate narrative choices (such as the avenging sequence), the ending is strong enough to satisfy in a somewhat-predictable fashion.  Fans of Pacino and Walken will get plenty to like, although Walken’s conflicted arc is more compelling than Pacino outright bombast.  While this isn’t a classic-in-the-making, it’s not a waste of time either, and it joins a small “aging superstar thriller” sub-genre alongside now-franchises such as Red and The Expendables.