Buffalo66 Tagged Articles at Cinematical

Vincent Gallo's persona is anything but brightly colored and melodic. In fact, it's mostly brooding, insane, and tense. He's lathered the hate on for who knows how many fellow actors and actresses, journalists, websites, and other bystanders he's come in contact with. He's redefined crude by offering to sell his sperm to light-complexioned people (the blonde and blue-eyed would even get a discount!). Nevertheless, some of his art can be undeniably and irresistibly sweet and melodic.

His CD "When" is an exercise in gentle soft sounds, and in the cinematic realm, there's nothing that compares to the Christina Ricci bowling alley dance scene in Buffalo 66. The lights dim, King Crimson's "Moonchild" purrs, and a spotlighted Ricci taps in time to the music. Sure, I'm a Crimson fan and I have a thing for under-saturated colors, but the gem of this scene lies in that wistful look in Ricci's eyes, as she's illuminated by the spotlight but still seemingly unnoticed. A whole movie plays out in one and a half minutes, and as much as I love the quirk that comes before and after this scene, I can't help but want more of these melodic moments.

Seeing nothing else of Gallo's work, one might tap him for the perfect person to overwhelm us with whimsy or dip into the land of fairy tales -- yet it's all housed in one of the most irascible names on the outskirts of Hollywood.

With an entire absence of color, Gallo can be seen this week in Francis Ford Coppola's Tetro.

Movies about ex-convicts and their difficulty assimilating back into society generally begin with the prison release, during which the protagonist typically looks downright miserable. At first thought, I recall the opening of Vincent Gallo's Buffalo '66, which ironically exaggerates the hopelessness of post-incarceration by adding a lack of a public restroom to the list of things the former jailbird is without. But at the beginning of John Crowley's new film, Boy A, the titular young man being turned back into the world is high-browed and smiling from ear to ear. And this change from the expected norm really drew me into the film immediately.

Perhaps the difference is that for most films about ex-cons, the hero doesn't have a very good chance at starting over. For "Boy A," however, there's a literal reinvention taking place. In the first scene, the young man (Andrew Garfield) sits with his caseworker, Terry (Peter Mullan), and discusses the details of his release, which include his receiving a new home, a new job and, most importantly, a new identity -- he chooses the name "Jack." Also, rather symbolically, Terry hands Jack a gift, a pair of sneakers that unintentionally represents the young man's ability to comfortably run away from his former life.