Black Rain (1989) - a retrospective

“I usually get kissed before I get fucked”

Damn, I love this movie so much.

The second of Ridley Scott’s apology pieces after the tedious Legend (1985), including the equally great Someone to Watch Over Me (1987), Black Rain is a perfect little thriller with no fat on it whatsoever.

I remember, as a teenager, seeing a publicity still of Michael Douglas aiming a gun with a lorry speeding up dangerously behind him and thinking: “I need to see this film!!”.

Douglas is just one of those actors who’s so much fun when he gets angry. You know, along with Gene Hackman and Jack Nicholson. And there are plenty of examples of that in Black Rain.

While Jan de Bont is the credited cinematographer, this is clearly Howard Atherton’s film. The latter quit after finding the strict Japanese shooting laws too much, but his fingerprints are everywhere. I’m rewatching the film now and trying to pick out de Bont’s scenes, but it is difficult. The softer-lit karaoke scene and beyond does signal a handover though, with Douglas working with de Bont again a few years later on Basic Instinct (1992).

I feel as though this film has been swept under the carpet, due to political correctness concerns. But racism is what the film is all about. It’s not an unintentional subtext. Like the production itself, it’s about Westerners clashing with East Asians. Boom. That’s it. I see a lot of caucasian characters in anime, so why is it so bad for Americans to portray Japanese people? It’s not, but the matter is an easy target for armchair politicians.

I wish this was Kate Capshaw’s defining role, rather than Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984). Her feisty bar hostess is pitch-perfect, which just makes me want to see more of her. I guess I would take a backseat too if I had Steven Spielberg money coming in.

Hans Zimmer’s score is as awful and abrasive as all of his scores were around that time. He was rightly hated by the critical press. But, hey, the Scott brothers seemed to love him and now he’s winning awards, so whatever.

Andy Garcia acts like he’s only going to be in two-thirds of the movie, which is good, because he’s only in two-thirds of the movie. What a good sport.

I still don’t understand why Black Rain isn’t considered one of the greats. It’s exciting. It’s interesting. It’s beautifully shot by two DPs. It’s funny. It’s emotional. Decent copies are rare nowadays, so go for what you can. My Prime Video copy certainly looks prettier than the DVD I bought a couple of decades ago.

If you haven’t seen Black Rain before, then you are missing out.

Just shut up and watch it.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

ROLLING BLACKOUT 2: BLACKOUT HARDER!

Having activated the “Sensitive Content” warning for The Whittling Post, what with me now posting erotic short fiction, I believe AI search bots are now being turned away.

In one way, this is rather depressing, as it proves that I wasn’t gaining additional reader interest at all. In another way, it means I’m now able to see who my real viewers are, rather than just whatever Google is scanning to answer inane questions.

Mostly posed by me.

So, yes, I’m back to just a few minimal post-specific views a day, with “front page” views by bots unable to click the consent button. Ha! Take that, robot apocalypse!

If you run your own blog and have concerns about false stats or the copying of your work, maybe try adding an adult content warning yourself.

Anyway, back to writing bollocks for nobody…

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Jim on Food: Tropical Garlic Turkey

Ingredients (in order of appearance):

Olive and Sesame Oil

Turkey Mince

Fish Sauce

Roughly Chopped Lemon and Lime

Celery

Asparagus

Radish

Green Pepper

Scotch Bonnet Chilli

Mushrooms

Powdered Spices: Black Pepper

Herbs: Mint, Basil

Garlic Puree

Bed of Leaf Spinach

Result: Mixed

This baby was meant to be much simpler than it turned out to be. The original concept was just a packet of turkey mince, some mushrooms, a spoon, and me crying as I gobbled the lot down in the dark.

So, where did it all go right?!

I had my low-carb shopping order delivered yesterday, so I realised I best get working on it, despite my humble desires. What resulted was a mountain of meat and veg and fruit. Or, as I call it: “A damn fine Saturday night in!”.

Did that work? I fear it did not.

My “mixed” response is due to me putting too much lemon and lime in and too late in the cooking process. I simply forgot, basically, and then panicked. Only using halves would have made it much less “gopping”, which is apparently not a real word. My family used it though, so whatever.

I’ve started adding garlic and herbs right at the end of cooking, even though this may offend many cooks out there. I know you’re supposed to add them earlier, so as to infuse the other ingredients with their flavour, but I find the potency of said seasoning is lost by the end. So, yeah, I stand by my rebellious technique.

Fight the kitchen power!

I’m hoping to get out to the chemist today, as I’ve now missed 3 week’s worth of diabetes and antidepressant medication. I’m not feeling too bad, but there may very well be stuff going on inside me that is irreparable.

We shall see.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Framed to Perfection 30

CINEMA PARADISO (1988)

Director: Giuseppe Tornatore

Cinematographer: Blasco Giurato

Uh oh, mum alert.

We’ve all had that look, although I remember once coming home late from whatever 8-year-old me used to get up to and mother not even noticing. Phew! I guess parentally-enforced bedtimes are just to give said guardians a quiet reprieve from their hyperactive brats. Charmed, I’m sure. My mother didn’t quite get that I was never going to be as rebellious as my provocative eldest brother, nor as passive as my middle brother.

I just wanted to be left alone to read, write, draw, or play “action movie” with my eclectic set of random toys.

I’ve never been as enamoured with Cinema Paradiso as, well, everyone else on the planet. I watch it every now and then to try and work out why my reaction is different. My best assumption being that I’m let down by the second half, wherein little Salvatore AKA Cutest Kid Ever TM, grows up to be a flawlessly handsome twink, rather than a dour nerd who shuffles about the place in the shadows. I remember thinking on my first viewing: “Is this supposed to be the same kid?!”. I just didn’t buy it. From what I can tell by casually witnessing such pretty people floating throughout society, adolescent/adult Salvatore, in reality, would surely never know hardship.

I’m not bitter.

A more offbeat-looking actor would have been better. See below photograph of grotesque teenage me, complete with practice camcorder for a filmmaking career that never happened, as a prime example of such a nerd. Still, Cinema Paradiso works, for this viewer at least, as a sweet short film about the platonic love between a bright-eyed street urchin and lonely old man, as I tend to tune out once the narrative skips forward a decade or so.

I find the above shot striking for its sparse production design and sudden appearance from a tight close-up, with the viewer unable not to notice the hypnotic actress offset to one side. I’m less impressed by the nostalgia in the film, even though I’m currently distracted by such movies, and more by the recreation of its period. I mean, what a big fucking pain in the arse that must’ve been! Saying that, there probably are still towns out there frozen in time like this, so perhaps the producers didn’t have to do all that much to establish time and place.

Personally, I’ve never been a fan of going to the cinema, which is why Cinema Paradiso’s charm is slightly lost on me. Not only are cinemas intimidating places due to my nyctalopia, or “night blindness”, but also crowded social settings where you and complete strangers are awkwardly crammed next to each other. I’ve always felt incredibly vulnerable in such situations, with certain tragic events in recent history not helping this feeling.

And, yes, I am referring to The Minecraft Movie’s “chicken jockey” meme/trend/bollocks.

Maybe in the next life my body and brain will get things right, so that I’ll be able to immerse myself in what everybody else loves about Cinema Paradiso.

Just not this time. Not this time.

Basically, it’s a film everybody loves because it is without fault, with my ambivalence to it being for the same reason. I’m just a contrarian prick like that.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Jim on Food: Sweet Chilli Pecan & Brussel Sprout Curry

Ingredients (in order of appearance):

Olive and Sesame Oil

Whole Crackling Spices: Cardamom Pods, Star Anise, Black Peppercorns, Cumin Seeds

Pecans

Rocket Chillies

Fish Sauce

Garlic and Tomato Puree

Bean Sprouts

Powdered Spices: Chilli, Curry, Paprika, Garam Masala, Turmeric

Herbs: Coriander

Chopped Tomatoes

Leaf Spinach

Soya Beans

Brussel Sprouts

Aldershot Stock (Tap Water)

Mango Chutney

Basmati Rice

Result: Positive

I’ve been suffering a particularly bad alcoholic episode over the past 7 days, so I haven’t been adhering to my new low-carb diet at all. This also means I’ve been letting my fridge and kitchen cupboards get pretty bare, with my having to rely mostly on takeaways as I sink further and further into nihilistic oblivion.

Still, let’s up the tone here and find some art through adversity!

Feeling the need for a spicy dish with a mountain of rice, I mentally searched around my kitchen and realised that, hey, I could actually cobble together a basic curry dish! So, whilst my hands shook and my emotions and heart raced with awful booze withdrawals, I found myself making actually one of the nicest dishes I’ve made in quite some time. The mango chutney, which hasn’t been on my list of diet-approved condiments, went in at the last minute, as the whole thing did taste somewhat blah. What a great idea it was! If I fall off the low-carb wagon again, I shall certainly be adding it to my next curry.

The rice doesn’t appear in the above shot, as I’d already started gobbling it down when I thought to take a picture.

That’s what she said.

Instead, I took a picture of the simmering leftovers after scooping out my first portion.

I did add some wafer sandwich chicken to mine, merely as a fridge-clearing exercise, but the amount was so negligible that I thought it unnecessary to include it in the list of ingredients for this fine, otherwise-vegetarian repast. If you can spot any then, I dunno, just pretend it’s a leaf of spinach that survived the cooking-down process.

I’ve got a grocery delivery arriving later, filled with low-carb stuff that should get me back on track with upping my good health. It turns out that switching to beer and wine, thinking it was an improvement over my vast whisky consumption, was just a sideways move. I really need to stop hitting the bottle, whatever it’s filled with, altogether.

Who’d have thought?!

Let’s just hope I don’t have another bad bout of insomnia, the most recent keeping me awake for 28 hours, which is one of the things that will forever kick me off the wagon. Say what you like about alcoholism, but at least you get your rest.

Sigh.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Framed to Perfection XXIX

CARLITO’S WAY (1993)

Director: Brian De Palma

Cinematographer: Stephen H Burum

Quite possibly the most tragic moment in cinema history, next to the immortal Connor having to say goodbye to his mortal wife in Highlander (1986), and robot David just wanting to spend one last day with his organic mother in Artificial Intelligence (2001).

A monument to stubbornness and holding to one’s principals, Carlito’s Way is one of those rare films that I feel totally immersed in. I so want to turn back its fictional timeline and make everything right. But I can’t. Sean Penn is almost unrecognisable as a coke-fuelled scumbag, winning over even me, one of his most reluctant supporters. Damn, is that hairstyle ever ugly! 

Patrick Doyle’s score is one of my favourites of all time, with the elevator sequence in particular being stuck in my head for thirty-two years. Buy it. Listen to it. Then listen to it again.

I’ve never been into blondes, but Penelope Ann Miller has always been an exception to that silly rule. I have nothing but time for her. While she can be a little monotone at times, she just has that special something, a fragility, that will forever break my queer heart. But, it’s okay, because Gail’s gonna be a good mom. New improved Carlito Brigante. Hope she uses the money to get out. No room in this city for big hearts like us. Sorry, baby, I tried the best I could. Honest.

Operatic, balletic, lyrical, poetic. I hope Carlito’s Way gets the attention it justly deserves, although I sadly suspect it does not.

And how great is Al Pacino?! I mean seriously. That man puts so much effort into everything he does, even the “paying jobs”. Good for him. Truly America’s answer to Anthony Hopkins and Peter Cushing. Pacino knows that it’s better to be the best thing in an underwhelming movie, rather than scrambling constantly for meaningless awards. He’s a worker!

I’m trying not to be disrespectful of anybody’s oeuvre, can you tell?

30 Years of Mission: Impossible (1996) is still coming. I’ve warned you before. I’m warning you again.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!