True Romance Tagged Articles at Cinematical

In an attempt to spotlight a scene related to post-Thanksgiving leftovers, I'd like to share a favorite little moment from Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. No, the teen rom-com doesn't directly connect to the holiday in any way, but there is this scene starring a turkey sandwich. And my brain and stomach being the odd collaborators that they are have deemed it appropriate, even if the sandwich is made of cold cuts and not turkey carved from a juicy, roasted whole bird.

Here's one reason it makes sense to my personal post-Thanksgiving activities: while many of you will be braving the crowds at the multiplex following your feast, I'll be at the bar -- hopefully one where I can dance some of the stuffing away -- and at last call, I'll tipsily head home and then stack some leftovers between two slices of bread and enjoy the first of many post-holiday turkey sandwiches.

With the possible exception of the "zombie versus shark" scene in Lucio Fulci's Zombi (coming soon), there may be no greater scene in film history than the exchange between Christopher Walken and Dennis Hopper at the midpoint of True Romance. Hyperbole aside, it's the kind of scene that true cinephiles salivate over the prospect of, and no doubt that actors dream of performing: two great personalities locked into a magical rhythm, creating character and making history even as they seemingly talk about a whole lot of nothin'.

The first time I saw True Romance was during its theatrical run, when I invited two female friends unfamiliar with Quentin Tarantino to see the film with me. While they were shellshocked by the abundance of profanity and violence the film contained, I was endlessly captivated – perversely so – with Tarantino's indefatigable penchant for crafting clever, memorable dialogue that celebrated itself as much as the films and pop culture highlights to which it referred. But even having been a longtime devotee of Reservoir Dogs – which to this critic remains his best-ever work – I was unprepared for this scene between Walken and Hopper, two acting masters, as they slowly and subtly engaged in a power struggle that would necessarily – if satisfyingly – end in cathartic tragedy.

Ironically, the sequence is only tangentially connected to the main narrative, a love story between a comic book store clerk and a call girl who accidentally stumble across a small fortune in drugs. Walken plays Vincent Coccotti, a mob boss who stumbles across Clifford Worley (Hopper) while looking for the former cop's son. Coccotti initially exerts physical pressure on Worley to reveal the wherabouts of his son, but as Worley realizes that he's in a no-win situation whatever he tells Coccotti, he decides to tell the Mafioso a story that will provoke his adversary without necessarily having to compromise his dignity, much less his son's location.

Each week, The Exhibitionist comments on the latest news, trends and innovations related to the theater industry, or it discusses long-continuing problems with and complaints against cinemas in general, or it simply relates a specific moviegoing experience of yours truly. But rarely does this column get into the subject of actual movies. Well, seeing as there's not much new in the industry this week, and seeing as I'm fortunately not being dragged to see Sex and the City and therefore have no experience to relate about being a sole male in an auditorium packed with women, I figure this is a perfect time to bring up actual movies. Not just any movies, though: I'm presently only interested in discussing movies about, set in or prominently featuring movie theaters.

The earliest movie that I'm familiar with that significantly involves a theater is Buster Keaton's Sherlock Jr. The silent comedian plays a projectionist who falls asleep on the job then has a dream in which he literally climbs through the movie screen and into a detective film. A similar idea of breaking the boundary between auditorium and screen is used in Woody Allen's The Purple Rose of Cairo and in John McTiernan's The Last Action Hero, both of which involve a movie character who manages to leave his respective film within the film. But nothing tops Keaton's screen-entering stunt, which utilizes special effects that still astonish more than 80 years later.

(In honor of Mother's Day, we're launching a series of posts today written, in part, by our mothers after we asked them one simple (yet very complex) question: What's your favorite movie and why?)

My mother, Deanna, is not much of a cinephile, but she claims to have at least learned from me different ways of appreciating movies. For example, she was always a huge Rogers and Hammerstein fan, and still cites The Sound of Music and South Pacific, as well as the non-R&H musical My Fair Lady, as some of her favorite films. But after I went to film school in the mid-90s, she became a fan of Quentin Tarantino dialogue and added Reservoir Dogs and True Romance to her list. However, it was dropping out of college that caused her to subjectively choose Good Will Hunting as her most favorite movie of all time:

"I love GWH very much because of how much the lead character reminds me of my son (Christopher) and how gifted/intelligent he is ... and how frustrated friends and family of his (like Will's) were when he decided there was no need to return to college and get his degree ... etc. But now that Christopher, as Will did, has come to his senses (!!!!) and did go back to school ... and he graduates with honors this month ... and how happy Chistopher's friend's and family and especially his MOM are.... well, I won't tell you the ending! You'll just have to watch the film and come listen to me brag on and on and on about my Christopher!!!!"

I have a problem. As a moviegoer, I'm always attracted to charisma over deed. More times than I can count, I find myself rooting for the bad guy and hoping that they bring the bland hero down. Of course, sometimes it's a fight between hero and villain for who has the most charisma, and sometimes the film wants us to love the villain, but whatever the case, the thorn is usually a lot more fun than the hero he's stuck onto. And this means that I'm often disappointed at the end, because the bad guy almost always dies.

Still, this is what's so great about film -- you can love the baddies without the real-world consequences. We've all heard about bad-guy lust, but this way, the baddie can do his bad thing for us to enjoy, without us getting all of the negative repercussions. We get the wild eye without the body count, the ripped muscles without the steroid set-up, and the twisted humor without the reality.

However, seeing that bad guys are my kryptonite, it's hard to pick just seven. While the following is, by no means, all-encompassing, it's a list of some of my favorite baddies. Some we're told to love, and others, well, they just steal the show.

Jason Dean -- Heathers

This is probably what started it all. When my friends and I gathered around the television to watch Christian Slater's new movie, we were immediately smitten. We didn't care that J.D. had a thing for doling out his own deadly justice. By the time he said: "Alright, so maybe I am killing everyone in the school... because nobody loves me!" We were exclaiming: "We love you!" J.D. had the drawling, Jack Nicholson voice, the sexy trench, and the need to row out to the middle of a lake somewhere with a bottle of tequila, his sax, and some Bach. He was very. Very very.