As each trailer broke for Shane Black's The Nice Guys (2016) my expectations kept nudging for the roof. And they soon got so high I had to try and rein them in because there was no way the film could be that good -- I would've settled for half as good, honestly. Well, caught this last night and I am still buzzing on it today. This was so, so, SO good, you guys. Violent, hilarious, and in the end an extremely endearing picture all wrapped around a mystery secreted inside a conspiracy tucked in the middle of a vintage porn loop lost in the smoggy haze of 1977 Los Angeles. Crowe and Gosling are just great, exceeding even my wildest expectations, but Angourie Rice kinda stole the movie out from under them. And once you see it, and you really should, you will find that was no small task. That kid is gonna be a ha-yuge star someday.
A friend asked if it was as good as Black's similar Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005). I think it compares very favorably with that film but it will require at least one more viewing to make the call on which one was better because I fear I missed some things, drowned out by the audiences laughter, my own included. And I also look forward to seeing it again just to soak up all the little period details: from the busted up Hollywood sign (destined to be torn down and replaced the very next year), to the Smokey and the Bandit and Airport '77 billboards, to the decadence of the porn producer's party, to the AMC pacer at the auto show, to the books on the shelf and the records on the wall in Holly's bedroom. And I encourage you all to go and see this movie, especially those that are always bitching about how there's nothing to see anymore except superhero movies, animated kids movies, or the sequel to the latest YA book adaptation. C'mon, people, lets make sure it isn't another decade before we get a treat like this from Black and co. again. These nice guys deserve at least a five picture franchise. Go. See this. NOW!
The Nice Guys (2016) Misty Mountains :: Silver Pictures :: Waypoint Entertainment :: Warner Bros. / EP: Ken Kao, Michael J. Malone, Hal Sadoff, Anthony Bagarozzi / P: Joel Silver, Ethan Erwin, Aaron Auch / D: Shane Black / W: Shane Black, Anthony Bagarozzi / C: Philippe Rousselot / E: Joel Negron / M: David Buckley, John Ottman / S: Russell Crowe, Ryan Gosling, Angourie Rice, Matt Bomer, Margaret Qualley, Yaya DaCosta, Keith David, Beau Knapp, Kim Basinger
It was by pure accident that I found myself reading John D. MacDonald’s The Beach Girls. Inadvertently finding itself into a basket at the local broken spine while a certain non-observant buyer was picking out some Ross MacDonald mysteries off the shelves -- because who doesn’t love Lew Archer, am I right?, I didn’t discover this stray until long after it was paid for and tossed into the massive to-read pile. This accident proved fortuitous, however, and I can now add another author to the must read list as I've been voraciously devouring anything I can get my hands ever since.
Despite the salacious cover -- standard fare on these old Fawcett-Gold Medal pulps -- the grist of this story is a sociological and anthropological study of the hard-drinking and hard-fighting denizens of a a rundown harbor in South Florida; the charter captains, the deck hands, and the women they leave behind, and what all these people do when the sun goes down, the moon comes out and the tide dictates who shacks up with who on a nightly basis.
There’s some added intrigue when one of the less popular tenant’s shady past, involving bilking money from many a jilted lover … some alive, some dead, finally catches up to him in the form of one of his victim’s estranged husbands, who's come gunning for him, and how outside and bent-nosed economic forces are forcing the owner of the harbor to sell out so a resort can be built on the land.
But, frankly, none of that really matters as MacDonald’s strength is his well defined and drawn out characters; and there’s a lot of them, but each is given a chapter to introduce themselves and advance the plot from their own perspective. I found this approach to be a unique and a refreshing change of pace, and even though the ending wraps up a little too neatly for all involved, I found myself having enjoyed the ride so much I really didn’t care.
Also in the pile: A Flash of Green, The Deep Blue Goodbye, One Monday We Killed them All.
Artist: Robert McGinnis
Used for the cover of a Robert Kyle Ben Gates' mystery, Kill Now, Pay Later, we have another fabulous piece by McGinnis, who can bring out the sensuality of the female form better than anyone I can think of.
To get you all up to speed, our protagonist for today, Quarry, is a killer for hire who used to work for a network of assassins somewhat akin to Bugsy Segal and Meyer Lansky's Murder Inc., where said assassinations were handled by contract in such a clandestine way that there would be no link between those paying for the hit, the team of hit-men (one for reconnaissance, the other the trigger-man or woman) and the target. That is, he used to until his manager, known simply as the Broker, tried to double-cross and eliminate him three installments ago; and since Quarry is still here to be written about you can probably guess how that all worked out. Now, armed with the Broker's list of operatives, Quarry has a new angle: find and stalk his fellow assassins, find out who they're trying to kill, and then step in, gum up the works, and turn the tables on whoever wants the target dead and eliminate them instead -- for a fee, of course. Unapologetically misanthropic (with some narcissistic tendencies), fast on his feet, quicker of mind, with no moral hesitations, these traits make Quarry very good at his job, but he also subscribes to a strange code of ethics that separates him from you average, run of the mill sociopath. And despite these few character flaws, it is the wry, quick-witted and brutally honest voice that author Max Allan Collins bestows upon this character both internally and externally that endears me to him as he bangs away (on the bed and with his gun) through each venture."Not that I'm apologizing ... I like a black comedy, and I like the freedom of doing whatever sick, twisted thing that comes into my mind. My late mentor Don Westlake said that Richard Stark was Westlake getting up on the wrong side of the bed on a rainy day. Quarry is me when I slept on the floor and woke to a thunderstorm."
-- Max Allan Collins
I was first introduced to Collins' modus operandi when I found several Ms. Tree comics in one of those potluck value-packs you used to find at the Walgreens back in the 1980's. There was just something about the simple and blunt and brutal straight-forwardness of that series that clicked and I did my damndest to find more. (And could someone, anyone, get those Ms. Tree comics the ominbus reprint treatment? 'kay, thanks.) Anyways, I was re-introduced to him a few years ago while burning through those Hard Case Crime novels, where Collins resurrected his snarky and cynical hired gun for three new installments (-- with a fourth pending, I hope, as I'm highly confused with Amazon and their ever shifting release dates right now.) This sent me in search of more, which went nowhere, because those old novels, and even the reprints, went for an insane amount of coin no matter where you dug. Luckily, Perfect Crime Books has them all back in print at a much more reasonable price.
With Quarry's Cut (originally published as The Slasher in 1977), this time, an opportunity practically lands in Quarry's lap, when he spots a former associate, who used to scout targets for him, in a cafe he frequents, and then traces the creep to the probable target: a pornographer, who is currently shooting his latest and last skin-flick at a secluded mountain lodge before heading to Hollywood and legitimacy for a major minor studio. After bluffing his way inside under false pretenses, our protagonist sizes up the likely suspects among the motley cast and crew, including an old acquaintance he knocked-boots with at some point in the past. Luckily, that carnal encounter ended amicably, so she doesn't blow his cover, but that appears to be the end of Quarry's luck as he tries to sniff out the trigger-man and confirm the intended target. And then things get even harrier when someone starts knocking off the small troupe, one by one, as a winter storm rages outside, trapping them all inside with at least two killers. And maybe more.
What boils done to a proto-body count/snuff movie, Quarry's Cut is a fun and frantic and frenzied foray into the seedy world of smut films and the mob that usually finances them. And having our hard-boiled hero plopped down in the middle of a country cottage whodunit, with that kinda cast for support, is truly inspired story-telling, folks, and just one of the many, many reasons as to why I love Max Allan Collins. His style, like his character, here, is lean and mean and openly disdains any unnecessary filler; just clean and clear-cut; set it up quick and then knock 'em down, and then tease them to the next chapter to do it all over again.
See also, Quarry, Quarry's List, Quarry's Deal, The First Quarry, The Last Quarry, Quarry in the Middle, and, hopefully, Quarry's Ex.
