Death Wish

death-wish-bronsonNobody slugs anyone with a roll of quarters anymore. And that’s a damn shame — an art lost for the ages.

For the victims of vigilante Charles Bronson in Death Wish, that’d be a preferable punishment for their transgressions (and one of ’em does get a sock wallop of coins).

This is the grandpappy of gritty revenge films, but it’s as sharp as Paul Kersey’s shooting and even more relevant today than it ever was.

Bronson is family man developer Paul, whose “heart beats for the underprivileged,” recalling the Irving Kristol zinger, “a conservative is just a liberal who has been mugged.”

When his wife and daughter are brutally victimized in his New York City apartment (one of the lecherous goons is none other than a shaggy-haired Jeff Goldblum) he immerses himself in his work to cope with the loss of his spouse, and the trauma of an indifferent NYPD up to its eyeballs in crime, with no leads, nothing to go on.

He heads down south to oversee a land development deal in Tucson. It’s there, he’s re-introduced to his Second Amendment rights by business partner Ames (“hell, a gun’s just a tool like a hammer or an axe”) and as a going away present, the Arizonian gives him a revolver.

DeathWish_And this doesn’t bode well for the Big Apple’s criminal element.

Back in NYC, Paul is a one-man Bernie Goetz*. He’s getting rid of the city’s scumbags and becoming something of a folk hero the cops are reluctant to investigate.

In a chat with his son-in-law, Paul puts forward the reasonable notion we’re all entitled to self-defense (something entrenched in law since Babylonian times). His son-in-law opines, “we’re not pioneers anymore.”

There you have it folks.

A line in the sand and a film that can be discussed and debated as hotly as sparks set off from gun control debates. And that’s a complicated issue, made even more difficult that there’s no distinct causal relationship between gun control and a state’s rate of fatal shootings. Then again, some are smuggled in from neighboring states. But in states with tighter controls, suicide victims choose another means, thereby skewing the numbers. There are just NO easy answers and each side right and left, is mired in confirmation bias.

Whatever way you slice it, Death Wish is a revenge film with smarts, smarter than anything Tarantino’s ever done. Nothing against him, but QT for all his formidable talent is a pop pasticheur who makes fun movies about movies; this is a movie about ideas, wrapped in a violent package.

Pacifist Paul is a real estate developer used to the orderliness of blueprints, budgets and constraints. When he’s thrust into a world for which there are no explanations, he’s forced to impose his own order, and whether you laud or loath him will resonate for years to come in political debates stateside.

****1/2 (out of 5)

[*Editor’s note: Soon after Bernie’s real-life vigilante act, there were “Ride with Bernie: he Goetz ’em” bumper stickers in New York City]

Fun in Acapulco

A high-flying trapeze artist is in Mexican looking for work as a lounge singer. Stop if you’ve heard that one already. Fun in Acapulco features the King of Rock ‘n Roll, Elvis Presley, as well as several winking hare-brained rapid-fire references to what it’s like to be king.

He’s Mike Windgren (a joy to hear enunciated by Latinos), a former boat worker and yes, circus act (now afraid of heights), who is stuck in the title town and looking to make ends meet on a short work permit.

That’s not nearly enough plot to stuff under a sombrero, but hey, it’s an Elvis movie!

And that means…lots of hip-shaking and enough lower register vibrato crooning to not only carry the day, but likely the month depending on your affinity for his music, here exclusively accompanied by mariachi musicians who are having a whale of a time.

Luckily, Mike Windgren isn’t whingin’ but getting down to business getting his singing career rolling. And he’s got his very own Colonel Tom Parker, a pint-sized talent booker, Raoul, a little kid who gets club/hotel owners to compete against one another for the services of the gringo “cantante” lounge lizard.

Such is the power of Presley that they book him hearing-unheard (if sight unseen can be an expression…).

And we can’t expect the King to be all alone…

So there are two fetching queens vying for his attention, Bern-born Bond babe Ursula Andress as Euro-royalty, and Tijuana-born model and ex-fling Elsa Cárdenas to add some juice.

Unfortunately for Fun in Acapulco, the cheesy green screening ain’t so fun and the the town, the “Pearl of the Pacific,” a favorite vacation spot for Sinatra, JFK, and Elizabeth Taylor to name a few, is rendered extraordinarily cheaply here.

Still, the kinda awesome Leiber and Stoller “Bossa Nova Baby,” hits all the right notes as Elvis steps away from his kicks to bang out a few notes on the piano.

**1/2 (out of 5)

[CHECK OUT OUR PODCAST DISCUSSION OF FUN IN ACAPULCO ON THE REALLY AWFUL MOVIES PODCAST!]