Roseland (1977)

Director: James Ivory
Writer: Ruth Prawer Jhabvala
Duration: 1 hour 44 minutes
Availability: DVD
Genre: Drama
Nipples or Swears?: Nope, not a one; as PG as a lie to Mom
Actors: Geraldine Chaplin, Lou Jacobi, Teresa Wright
Similar Films: It's like one of those "mosaic" films that show a bunch of seemingly-unconnected dramatic situations and by the end you see how they're all connected into a bigger story, like MAGNOLIA, BABEL, NASHVILLE or AMORES PERROS. So it's like that, only in ROSELAND, the stories don't interweave and nothing exciting really happens.
Movie in a Sentence: It's three vignettes: The Waltz, The Hustle, and the Peabody, all about dancing, finding a partner, losing them, getting old, the fear of death, and somehow carrying on, all set in the Roseland Ballroom in New York City.
Should You Watch?: You could watch the Walken one, The Hustle, if you want. It wouldn't kill you, much. It's about fifty minutes long and it is fun to see him as a cocky young ballroom-dancing gigolo. The other stories in it aren't so much bad as they are slooow. And depressing. There are some charming moments, but, ugh! There's only so much lonely old people slow dancing to Lawrence Welk I can take.
Score: 6 out of 10. This film is mostly bad theater. Over-acted dramatic scenes that have no real payoff.
Walken Content: Of the fifty, count on a solid thirty minutes of Walken-ness. He is the lead in the second of the three stories. He dances a bit, but not as much as I expected, and even then, he never "hustles". So if you're looking for a young Walken doing some kind of Travolta/Saturday-Night-Fever-thing, then think again. This isn't that kind of movie. Now, if you really want to see Walken dance well, watch PENNIES FROM HEAVEN, where he has a small role playing a smooth-talking, tap-dancing pimp, out to recruit Bernadette Peters.
    In Roseland, he mostly does the waltz with a parade of catty, tacky-dressed, unattractive women. That is his function. He is Russell, a young former-dance-prodigy-turned-gigolo, torn between his attraction to the new girl, and the financial security of his aging, dying sugar-mama.

Russell, of the Hustle

Walken Quote: Here's a bit o' Walken puttin' the moves on a new Lady-friend. She's about to leave. He stops her. Him: I was looking forward to another dance. Her: Oh well I'm sure there are plenty of ladies who would be very happy to dance with you. Him: (without hesitation) They're not you, are they?

The Sentinel (1977)

Directed: Michael Winner
Written: Jeffrey Konvitz
Duration: 92 mins.
Rated: R. For sex and violence. I don't think anyone swears in it, but there is a plethora of bloody, gory scenes and a healthy number of nipples.
Available to Own: on DVD
Genre: Supernatural Horror
Actors: Chris Sarandon, Cristina Raines, Ava Gardner, Burgess Meredith, Jeff Goldblum, Eli Wallach
Comparable Films: The Exorcist, The Omen, Rosemary's Baby
Movie in a Sentence: The Gates of Hell is in an apartment in Brooklyn, and the Catholic Church wants a bored fashion model to be the next sentry, so they move her in and let the demons and ghosts convince her.
Should You Watch? Eh. Not seriously, no. It is unintentionally funny, though.
RATING: I'll go 7 out of 10, and I'm being generous because I like Burgess Meredith in this.
Walken Content: He's got maybe three minutes and most of those he's just listening to someone else. Move along, no Walken for you here.
Walken Quote: Nothing worth repeating.

An ancient, blind, albino, Catholic priest (John Carradine) stands silent guard at the The Gates of Hell, which just so happens to be located in an apartment building in Brooklyn. It's a nice place, really. Good neighborhood, close to the market, tastefully decorated. Too bad it's haunted by the ghosts of dead murderers, criminals and (gasp!) LESBIANS!! Yes, that's right: evil, monstrous, lust-filled lesbians.

Ahh! Oh, sorry, I thought you were Lesbians. Ahh!

Scary, right? This movie demonizes (literally! DEMONIZES!!) lesbians, and does it in this kind of offhand, casual manner, like 'Hello! Meet the Axe Murderer, Satan, and the Lesbians. Nice to meet you all.'   ... Well, it got a chuckle from me. And that's about the most response this late 70's horror film brought out of me, a chuckle. Sure, it was good in the way adequately "bad" movies are good: quotably awful lines, quirky characters, bits of 70s culture, and a parade of nudity, although it's not always a good parade if you know what I mean. It was interesting to see all the actors I recognize from other films, like the nefarious Prince Humperdinck from The Princess Bride, Clark Griswald's wife in the National Lampoon's Various Vacations, and Mickey, Rocky's cantankerous curmudgeonous trainer/manager. There are more, but why ruin it.

the creepy kind of nice

 But is that enough? Odd characters? Stilted lines? Nipples?

Perhaps if Walken had more screen-time I would be forgiving of the rest of it. Perhaps. But he doesn't. And I'm not.

Chris plays Detective Rizzo, a name we would not know if it didn't say so in the closing credits. Eli Wallach is the lead detective here, and Rizzo is just his shadow. Walken gets to bounce a few expository lines off of him, but nothing of substance occurs, nothing of notable charm. He wears a tie, he says a few words, and then he disappears, hardly a character at all.

Someone threw away a perfectly good Walken.

Rizzo, allegedly

I was going to talk about the horrible acting of the star, the vacuous Cristina Raines, and maybe segue that into an observation about the film's paternal and condescending attitude towards women, and its laughably Catholic outlook on sexuality, and possibly explore how those things undermine the attempt at scaring its audience.

I was going to, but the severe lack of Walken in this film has sapped my will to continue. You could watch this for Burgess Meredith's performance as the super nice but increasingly creepy eccentric neighbor. You could watch this for the brief scene where a mute, spandexed Beverly D'Angelo rubs one out to breathless climax in front of a shocked and flustered stranger. Pervert. You could be a Jeff Goldblum fan looking for his brief and bland role as a photographer. You could even watch this for Eli Wallach's Columbo-esque performance as the kooky but sharp detective trying to piece it all together before its too late. Or for the slimy skeazy sleaze that Chris Serandon slides upon so well.

Iocane powder! I'd bet my life on it!

There are other reasons, surely, but none of these 'parts' are quite compelling enough to warrant sitting through the 'whole' of this awkward mess. Watch it on fast-forward. Get medicated and/or drunk. Maybe keep a book nearby to read during the slow/dumb/confusing parts.

But don't bother if you are just looking for some more Walken. You'll just be disappointed.

Me and My Brother (1968)

Directed by Robert Frank; written by Robert Frank and Sam Shepard; 1968; duration 85 mins; in color and black&white; unrated (nipples and f-bombs); available to purchase on DVD only through a Steidl book about the film; no subtitles (c'mon Steidl, dropping the ball on that one)

Genre: Experimental Art Film
Actors of Mention Other Than Chris: Allen Ginsberg playing himself
Comparable Films: Orson Welles' F is for Fake, or perhaps Woody Allen's Zelig, also Synecdoche, NY
Movie Contained in a Sentence: A film director explores themes of alienation, dissonance, identity, and familial responsibility through a story about a catatonic schizophrenic and his somewhat obnoxious poet-brother who is forced to take care of him.
Should You Watch This Film? Yes. But don't expect to have a "pleasant" time. It is clever, and thought-provoking, but it is also trying to show schizophrenia and it is more than a bit depressing, so, you know, know that going into it.
RATING: I'll give it a 7 out of 10, maaaybe an eight. Not for everybody, nor for every mood, but this film has a unique perspective and a creative voice

Don't go towards the light!

Walken Content: Not so much, about three minutes of screen-time. He plays the director of the film from within the film, as he hires an actor to take over the part of the "real" person, the brother, in the "documentary". Heavy stuff, no? Walken only gets a smattering of lines and then disappears, but the real bummer is you never hear his voice, because it is dubbed (and badly) by the real director of the film.

Walken's great big Peter-Lorre-eyes stare out from a wrinkle-less face, a baby-face. With his awful plaid jacket, and his "look-how-cool-I-smoke-a-cigarette" manner, oh, you can tell he's going places. Even with the jarring bizarro-world effect of someone else's voice coming out of Walken's mouth, you can tell his personality and charm will not be denied.

Walken Quote: There isn't much to choose from, so let me give you some context. Walken is playing the director, sitting in a darkened theater interviewing an actor to play a part, right? But the film being shown is of the actor not only already playing the part, but following Walken's suggestions. Wheels within wheels. We hear a siren go off. Then Walken says: "I like that siren. Try not to shiver. Just look straight at me and try not to shiver. You can smoke if you want. Good. Now bite the apple."

General Thoughts: Beyond even Walken's dubbing, there is a worrisome disconnect between the sound that is presented and the action taking place on the screen. Some of it is brilliant. It is. There are layers of sound being built up, incongruous noises that shouldn't work, but do, and previous dialogue replayed in bits, like an insistent but spotty memory.

But EVERYONE has rubber lips in this, because the film trains the viewer to look for it, and see it, even when it isn't there. The juxtaposition of picture and sound is such a recurring theme that nothing seems real, nothing seems authentic, even when everything matches up perfectly. Sure, it adds to the surreality and alienation of the film, but at what expense? It can be annoying, and certainly confusing at times. The director throws a lot of creative tricks at the audience to convey schizophrenia, but in the end it is up to you whether or not you enjoy the affliction.

A Word on Availability: This was a film that until recently wasn't available to own. No VHS, DVD, or digital download, nothing. You had to wait for a film festival or art museum to show it. Recently though, a German book company has put together a really nice book about the film (screenplay excerpts, pictures, etc.) and included the DVD (both PAL and NTSC) with it. Unfortunately, they don't advertise that well the fact that the film comes with it, so I am taking the liberty of providing a link to the Amazon page where it is available. You're welcome.

The Kiss Off: And so begins Christopher Walken's film career. He is 25 years old in this. He is a spritely 77 as I write this now. By focusing on each film of his, and not just the supposedly "good ones," I hope to provide a comprehensive guide for anyone interested in finding Walken-gold without having to watch 90 movies.

Although you can. I did. It was wonderful. In fact, do that. Right now.

The Anderson Tapes (1971)

Directed by Sidney Lumet; written by Lawrence Sanders and Frank Pierson; 99 mins; color; available on DVD; it's rated PG, but I'm thinking PG-13 is a little more accurate

Genre: Ensemble Heist Action-Comedy
Actors: Sean Connery, Dyan Cannon, Alan King, Margaret Hamilton (the wicked witch of the West!)
Similar Films: The Conversation, The Thomas Crown Affair, Oceans 11
Movie In a Sentence: A thief and his team try to get "one last big score" despite the prevalence and efficacy of surveillance technology.
Should You Watch This? Nah. Don't bother. I mean, if it's already playing, go for it. But a brand new Walken is the only draw here.
RATING: I give it a 6 out of 10.
Walken Content: Only about 15 minutes or so spread out throughout the movie, but it's a strong, likeable character.


This is Christopher Walken's first big studio film and his first line in this one is a doozie. CW and Sean Connery just get released from prison, and CW turns to say goodbye to Sean, and with this energized grin, rolling his eyes in almost mock pleasure he says, "America, man, y'know it's so beautiful I wanna EAT IT."

You can't ask for a better first line than that.

His character, known as The Kid, acts as a kind of ineffectual Jiminy Cricket to Connery's Pinocchio. Connery's character, the eponymous Anderson, is the "hero" in this, despite him being an unapologetically heartless scoundrel. We're supposed to forget about how much of a prick he is and get lost in his brutish charm and lightly obscured brogue as he orchestrates that "one last big heist."

So what's the big scam? He's going to shack up with his old girlfriend in her apartment building and rob her neighbors. That's right, just clean them out. Not a bank, or a casino, or the mob. People. And the things in their home. Nice, right? Real likable.

The Anderson Tapes is a caper film that has replaced the clever twists and cunning ploys that usually drive a caper-type film, with various and numerous scenes of clandestine surveillance. That's right. Close-ups of the little spool on the cassette tape as it records the thieves' voices as they scheme, and creepy-looking mustachioed men hunched in dark rooms listening to everything. Which is cool, it is, but it doesn't GO anywhere. Nothing escalates and nothing is of value. The parade of secondary characters are fun and colorful, but certainly not enough to carry the story.


Director Sidney Lumet, who would go on to make quality films such as Dog Day Afternoon, Network, and Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, seemed to not be able to make up his mind what kind of a movie this was. Was it a thriller? Cause it wasn't thrilling. A comedy? I was laughing some, but not at the punchlines. I blame its own eagerness to seem funny. It was needy. And nothing says lame like needy comedy.

The score is awful. Tinny, lame, and annoying. They kept using this shrill sound effect to show that others were listening in, a kind of electronics/sonar skree, as if we could ever forget that this is about surveillance technology. We get it.

Geez, I'm so negative.

There were some good performances. Alan King is great as Pat the mob-boss. Very Italian. He's trying to convince Connery that home security has gotten better since he's been in prison, and he says, "Some a dees places gaht moats." Charming and yet still intimidating. That's how I like my mob-bosses.

Connery's acting is fine, but whatever, and Dyan Cannon is enticing in a sex-robot kind-of-way, but ultimately she is forgotten by the end of the film, perhaps sooner.

Enough of them. How is Walken? He is brilliant, naturally, but underused. His quiet intensity crackles in his fifteen minutes or so of accumulated screen-time spread across the 95 minute story. Skinny, early twenties, plucky, and he is the moral compass of the group. Or he would be except they are jaded career criminals and so they ignore him when he gets preachy.

He has some good lines. Near the end when they're trying to decide whether to take what they've stolen and run, or continue cleaning out the last apartment. Walken wants to go, so here they are, half a dozen guys in the elevator, all wearing crazy Hannibal Lector-looking leather masks, and even through the mask Walken smirks, but you can tell he's trying to cover his panic. He turns to Anderson and says, "Hey Duke, it's late, I'm turnin' into a pumpkin."

Overall, you could probably live a life and never have seen this movie. It has some moments that make you wish otherwise, and certainly if you want to mark and celebrate the beginning of CW's illustrious career, sure, but no, in the end it does not succeed as a great film. The pacing is slow, the characters (with the obvious exception of CW) are shallow and unlikable and the ending is unsatisfying. It doesn't matter what happens because nobody wins; not them, the cops nor us. It is a tragedy cloaked in a caper, stuffed with bugs and convinced it is a comedy.