Billy Dee Williams

  • Nighthawks (1981)

    Nighthawks (1981)

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2021) Twenty-first century reviews of Nighthawks have generally been kinder to the film than the ones it received at the time of its release, and it’s not hard to see why. In some ways, the film was ahead of its time, by maybe ten or twenty years: As a suspense story of how a cowboy Manhattan cop goes after a terrorist attacking New York landmarks, it shows many of the characteristics of late-1980s/1990s action movies as the form coalesced in the wake of New Hollywood. That it features none other than Sylvester Stallone with a fetching beard as the cop (plus Billy Dee Williams) and Rutger Hauer as the mad terrorist is a clear bonus, considering the career that both of them had later on, especially in the very kinds of movies that Nighthawks announced. The film does manage to get quite a few things right: the atmosphere of wintertime Manhattan is very well presented, and the standout sequence in the film (aside from an opening store bombing sequence that would become a staple of later action movies, such as Die Hard with a Vengeance) is a tense and still rather original sequence set aboard and around the Roosevelt Island Tramway with Stallone’s character talking with the terrorists. I wouldn’t want to oversell the film: Nighthawks may point the way forward that many more action films would follow, but it’s only semi-successful in its approach. Making a protagonist out of a cowboy cop is increasingly troublesome, the ending sequence is nonsensical and the film does feel a bit slow by contemporary standards. But it has aged better than other films at the time, and Stallone isn’t as annoying here as he is in other films. (A look at the production history of the film does reveal that he was already then showing the signs of being a troublesome star, but that’s Hollywood’s problem, not ours.)  Considering how it has faded from cultural memory, Nighthawks is now a bit of a pleasant surprise, and more interesting than expected.

  • Lady Sings the Blues (1972)

    Lady Sings the Blues (1972)

    (On Cable TV, June 2020) One of the first musical biographies made by and for black audiences, Lady Sings the Blues still feels modern in how it treats its central character Billie Holliday—even as it does rely on the classical musical biography elements of tough childhoods, early discrimination and mid-career substance addiction. Diana Ross is impressive as Holliday, while surrounded by good actors such as Billy Dee Williams and an early non-comic (and non-moustached) performance from Richard Pryor. The music is quite good if you’re into early jazz (although there’s some anachronistic material there), and the atmosphere of early black music performances is evocative—even as Holliday goes out on tour with a white band. I gather that it’s not faithful at all to Holliday’s life, but this all blurs with distance and doesn’t stop the film from standing up on its own. Lady Sings the Blues hasn’t aged as much as similar film of the time because it’s anchored in solid (if familiar) material, and treats its characters with modern sensibilities. One wonders about how the then-popular blaxploitation genre paved the way for this specific biography.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, May 2021) I have a feeling I’d like Lady Sings the Blues far more had I seen it in theatres in 1972 rather than fifty years later. It’s not that it’s a bad film – but what was new and interesting about it in 1972 – the grittiness, the denunciation of racism, the dramatic arc of a self-destructive singer, Diana Ross‘ performance from as Billie Holiday – all feels obvious, maybe even perfunctory today. Lady Sings the Blues follows a now-obvious dramatic arc for musical biopics. While there’s little bad to say about Ross, or the able supporting performance from Billy Dee Williams (in his pre Lando Calrissian days, another “less impressive now than in 1972” thing), the film itself feels intensely familiar today. I’ll note for the record that we’re not necessarily any better than audiences in 1972 – contemporary reviews also noted the clichés, so they feel even more striking after fifty more years of repetition. But it does make Lady Sings the Blues feel more generic than it should, and the ultimate proof of that would be that it took until I logged the film in my notes that I realized that I had already seen it less than a year ago. Now that’s embarrassing.

  • Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

    Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

    (Fourth or Fifth Viewing, On Blu-ray, November 2018) Popular opinion has it that The Empire Strikes Back is the best Star Wars movie, and even a recent look as a jaded middle-aged man (who’s happy not to be eight years old any more) does little to convince otherwise. The much-better dialogue helps a lot, but it’s impossible to discount the impact of three memorable locations (Hoth, Dagobah and Bespin) along with a sombre finale that raises the stakes for all characters. Irvin Kershner is also a better director, and the actors understand what they’re trying to do—Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher still run circles around Mark Hamill, but the film benefits a lot from the addition of Billy Dee Williams as the truly cool Lando Carlissian. Screenwriter Leigh Brackett (a written SF legend) does her best work in spinning the Han/Leia romance carefully through a series of antagonistic interactions. The special effects are generally successful, and I’ll note that the 1997 digital enhancements seem more natural here than in the overstuffed re-edit of A New Hope. I hadn’t seen the film since its 1997 re-release in theatres and I found it much better than its immediate prequel.

  • Fanboys (2009)

    Fanboys (2009)

    (On DVD, December 2010) I’ll be one of the first to bemoan the increasing cooptation of geeks from social outcasts to lucrative market segment, but even I have to admit that Fanboys is a fun comedy aimed squarely at that audience.  The story of four Star-Wars-loving friends racing to steal an early copy of The Phantom Meance from Skywalker ranch, Fanboys gleefully indulges in geek references, inside jokes and enough re-quoted dialogue to qualify as a derivative work.  I’m not sure why I was expecting something cheap, because the end result is polished B-movie, low-budget but not necessarily unpleasant to look at.  The actors do their best (Jay Baruchel shows up in a decent early role, even showing his maple leaf chest tattoo), but it’s really the geekery of the film that takes center-stage in reflecting in the state of fandom circa winter 1999, still hoping that George Lucas would pull off a new trilogy of classic Star Wars films.  (Part of the film’s humour is in the knowing references to the post-1999 reputation of The Phantom Menace, Jar Jar Binks or Harrison Ford)  The geek stereotypes are extreme, but good-natured and even endearing when it comes to the five heroes of the story.  If nothing else, fans should see Fanboys for the succession of cameos and bit parts for notables such as William Shatner, Danny Trejo, Seth Rogen (in three different roles), Carrie Fisher, Billy Dee Williams and many more.  (Only Kevin Smith’s cameo feels rushed and incoherent.)  There’s also a snappy pop soundtrack.  Fanboys isn’t much of a comedy without the geek references (people without knowledge of the Star Wars universe, in particular, will miss out on much), but it’s good enough to exceed low expectations.  [Classification note for metadata nerds: The film was shot in 2007, pushed back numerous times during the film’s troubled production history and eventually released in theaters and DVD in 2009.  IMDB thinks it’s a 2008 film, but I’m listing it here as a 2009 release.]