Alan Parker

Angel Heart (1987)

Angel Heart (1987)

(In French, On Cable TV, June 2019) I wasn’t expecting much from Angel Heart other than a mild curiosity as to why what looked like a neo-noir murder mystery was doing playing on a hard-core horror Cable TV channel. Well, as it turns out, one of the least of Angel Heart’s qualities is the way it shifts from neo-noir investigation to something quite more horrifying. Mickey Rourke turns in a good early-career performance as Harry Angel, a Private Investigator asked by a mysterious client to find out what happened to crooner Johnny Favourite (no apparent relation with the lead singer of the Canadian Jazz band). The mystery client is joyfully played by Robert de Niro, whose devilish behaviour (along with impeccably clawed fingernails) clearly suggests that he’s enjoying playing the part. Quite a bit of the Angel Heart’s second half features Lisa Bonnet shredding her former nice-girl image with a few unusually intense nude scenes. Much of the film’s initial appeal is going back to 1950s New York noir archetypes, albeit played with more bloodshed than the classics. Things take a turn for the much, much worse once our private investigator travels to New Orleans where (as is movie tradition) everyone seems steeped into some variant of voodoo magic. But that’s not the half of it, and even if you know where things are going, the film as a few more unpleasant surprises in store right until the end. Director Alan Parker does quite well with Angel Heart, creating unnerving sequences when it counts, delving into visual symbolism that’s at least one level deep, and taking great care with the musical atmosphere of the film in between the scares. The unusual coda keeps going throughout the credits. It all amounts to a bit of a surprise—the film isn’t unknown, but I had completely missed it and got to discover something more interesting than anticipated along the way.

Fame (1980)

Fame (1980)

(In French, On Cable TV, April 2019) One of the least-appreciated revolutions in twenty-first century filmmaking is the viability of TV miniseries as a storytelling format. Suddenly, creative projects that make sense over a lengthy duration can become long-form binge viewing, leaving movies to focus on tighter, more focused stories. Fame cries out for the miniseries treatment: Featuring an ensemble cast of teenagers going through four years of creative arts high school, it simply packs too much in two hours and feels as if it barely gets any chance to develop its dramatic arcs, strike a coherent tone or let its characters breathe a moment. Director Alan Parker gets to play with a lot of different storytelling devices, from initial auditions to an impromptu musical number (and another, more diegetic one) to stand-up performing to sex comedy hijinks to a classical music concert, alongside more dramatic moments. To be fair, Fame does have its share of interest and quirks: Taking place in a school focused on performing arts means that the film can transition from one scene to the other through the device of characters rehearsing dramatic pieces, meaning that you quickly learn not to trust anything on-screen until a few moments have passed. The Rocky Horror Picture Show screening scene is a lot of fun, and there’s a genuinely funny stand-up routine in there. There’s also more nudity than expected. The actors aren’t bad (Irene Cara, Paul MacCrane and Gene Anthony Ray being particular standouts) and they are given some meaty material to play… but the script often leaves them badly served by depriving them of a climax or a complete character arc. Four years and a dozen characters can’t be stuffed in two hours without everyone feeling cheated of a satisfying story. It doesn’t help that the tone of the film is all over the place, from comedy to musical sing-alongs to big tragic monologues and dramatic character moments—such shifts are manageable within the context of an eight-hour miniseries, but they stick out in a film. I still like watching Fame for its moments, but I remain dubious about it overall. In movie history, it exists as a footnote (it was MGM’s last musical before its merger with UA), and a transitional point from seventies grittiness leading to the music video aesthetics of the 1980s.

Midnight Express (1978)

Midnight Express (1978)

(On TV, September 2017) If being tortured sounds like your idea of a great time, then rush to see Midnight Express as soon as possible. If not, well … never mind. The somewhat-true story of an American being imprisoned in Turkey after being caught smuggling drugs, Midnight Express aims to be a comprehensively awful depiction of a young man imprisoned in inhumane conditions. It really pulls no punches, and seemingly delights in making both protagonist and audiences miserable for as long as possible. All the while asking us to sympathize with an avowed drug smuggler. Alan Parker directs an Oliver Stone script, and the two-hour result feels much longer than it has any right to be. If you suspect that I wasn’t particularly thrilled by the experience, you’d be right—After doing my best to stay within the film for a while, I ended up escaping it by working on something else while the rest of the movie played along, glancing up at the screen at periodic intervals but not really being willing to invest myself any further in the story. Whether this counts as a success for the film should be obvious. Given the dour tone of much of the movie, the somewhat happy ending is a bit of a surprise.