The Screengrab : terry o'quinn

Donald Westlake, 1933-2008

Phil Nugent — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 16:00:00 GMT

Donald Westlake, who died New Year's Eve, at the age 0f 75, while vacationing in Mexico, was best known as a "crime writer", and in that capacity he won three Edgar Awards (including one for Best Screenplay for his adaptation of Jim Thompson's The Grifters, directed by Stephen Frears in 1990) and was honored by the Mystery Writers of America with the title of Grand Master. But such tributes barely hint at Westlake's stature as a supreme, all-around entertainer with a wide range within his chosen specialty. After publishing his first novel, The Mercenaries, in 1960, Westlake established such a steady rate of production that, in addition to the many books he published under his own name, he also adopted more than ten pseudonyms, partly to deflect criticism of him for overtaxing the marketplace. (He may have also had other, personal reasons, for sticking the name "John B. Allan" on the 1961 book Elizabeth Taylor: A Fascinating Story of America's Most Talented Actress and the World's Most Beautiful Woman and other pseudonyms on the pulp porn novels he wrote in the 1950s and 1960s, some of them in collaboration with Lawrence Block, which have titles such as Sin Sucker and Campus Tramp.) Westlake also matched certain pseuds up with recurring characters, for instance writing a string of mysteries about a character named Mitch Tobin under the name "Tucker Coe".

His best-known alter ego was Richard Stark, who, starting with 1962's The Hunter, wrote more than twenty taut, mean thrillers about Parker, a cooled-out, super-efficient sociopath of a professional thief. Under his own name, Westlake wrote, among other titles, the John Dortmunder series, detailing the often hilarious adventures of an intelligent, hard-working, frequently put-upon crook with a knack for gaudily designed heists that tended to run into equally gaudy complications. (The series began with 1972's The Hit Rock, which he said began as a Parker novel; he realized that he needed to concoct a new hero for it when the plot started turning funny on him.) Stark and Westlake both kept 'em coming until 1974, when Parker abruptly disappeared after Westlake, as he would later say, lost internal contact with the hateful bastard. But in the late '90s, Westlake seemed to get back in touch with his Parker side, and Richard Stark began producing again, even as Westlake continued to publish under his own name such entertainments as The Ax, The Hook, and the further activities of John Dortmunder in such novels as Watch Your Back!

In addition to adapting Thompson for the Grifters screenplay (and, more recently, Patricia Highsmith for the 2005 Ripley Under Ground), Westlake wrote one terrific original screenplay, for the chilling yet witty serial-killer movie The Stepfather (1987), directed by Joseph Ruben and starring a then-unknown Terry O'Quinn. The list of Westlake novels made into movies include the 1973 caper comedy Cops and Robbers, which he adapted himself; The Hot Rock, with Robert Redford as Dortmunder; the calamitous 1974 Bank Shot starring George C, Scott; the 1982 Jimmy the Kid, in which a Dortmunder novel somehow got turned into a vehicle for Gary Coleman; the 2001 What's the Worse That Could Happen?, in which a Dortmunder novel somehow got turned into a vehicle for Martin Lawrence; and the 2005 French film Le Couperet, directed by Costa-Gavras and based on the novel The Ax. There have also been a slew of movies base on the Parker novels, though for some reason the character's name has yet to survive the screenplay adaptation process. The grandaddy of Richard Stark movies is John Boorman's 1967 Point Blank, based on The Hunter and starring Lee Marvin as the monolithically homicidal "Walker." (It was remade, in 1999, as Payback, with Mel Gibson as "Porter.") Jean-Luc Godard also used the Parker novel The Jugger as the (loose) basis for his 1966 film Made in U.S.A., without paying for the honor, which would ultimately cause his movie distribution problems in the States. Westlake's last novel, a Dortmunder number called Get Real, is scheduled to be published in the spring.

Screengrab Presents: The 25 Greatest Horror Films of All Time (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 30 Oct 2008 20:00:00 GMT

This may be the scariest Halloween in recent memory.

Whatever happens in the election, it's going to be a nightmare for tens of millions of Americans. But until then, we’ve got a few days to dress like Joe the Plumber and Sarah Palin, drink pumpkin-flavored beer and relax with ghosts, vampires and zombies instead of all those scary talking heads on TV.

There was some debate here in the Screengrab Crypt regarding whether this was a list of the BEST horror films of all time or the SCARIEST (or if there’s a difference)...which naturally got us thinking about just what makes a film scary in the first place.

When my mother-in-law was a wee little French-Canadian, she went to a screening of Murders in the Rue Morgue where a theater employee in a gorilla suit popped out when the lights came up, sending the audience screaming into the streets of Nashua, New Hampshire...now THAT’S scary.

On the other hand, there are some horror movies that skip the gotcha! moments in favor of sheer dread, a creeping mood of hopeless, helpless paranoia that haunts your nights long after the adrenalin rush from the guy in the gorilla suit has faded. I remember squirming my way through all the maggots and vomited intestines of Lucio Fulci’s Gates of Hell as a teenager, but what scared me the most was the Italian film’s pervasive sense of inescapable doom...

...not that I have especially fond memories of the film. Just because it scared me didn’t mean I liked it, in the same way I’d rather read a 700-page grad school dissertation on the cultural significance of the torture porn craze than sit through Saw V.

Like comedy, it’s hard to nail down the secret of great horror, but we know it when it lurches up...RIGHT BEHIND YOU!!!!!

Just kidding. Enjoy the list, and Happy Halloween from your pals here at The Screengrab!

25. RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD (1985)

What is it with zombies? Why do we love them so? We’ve got at least a half dozen killer corpse movies on this list...but personally, I’ve always had a special place in my braaaaiiiiiinnnssss for Dan O’Bannon’s punk-rock tribute to the genre, starring the venerable, indispensable B-movie staple Clu Gulager as the boss of two medical warehouse employees who accidentally unleash a zombie apocalypse. According to the film’s clever, way-better-than-it-has-to-be script (also by O’Bannon), Night of the Living Dead was a true story, but the government covered the whole thing up...and they would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for a mishap involving a missing barrel of deadly zombie toxin and the aforementioned bumbling warehouse employees: Freddy (whose friends are rockin’ out to the Damned and the Flesh Eaters -- and, for some reason, getting naked -- in a nearby graveyard) and Frank, whose eventual fate is actually kinda touching thanks to a horror movie hall-of-fame performance by character actor James Karen. One of my all-time favorites in the “disappearing characters” genre, Return is frightening, funny and exciting by turns, and pioneered “fast zombie” technology long before Danny Boyle hogged all the credit in 28 Days Later. Plus, the soundtrack totally kicks ass...and, of course, BRAAAAIIIINNNSSSS!!!!!

24. THE INNOCENTS (1961)

One of the most effective ghost story movies ever made is also perhaps the finest of all the attempts to adapt Henry James to the screen. (John Mortimer and a pre-In Cold Blood Truman Capote worked on the screenplay, which is based on a theatrical adaptation of James' The Turn of the Screw.) Deborah Kerr is a fascinating jangle of authoritative command and nervous anxiety as the new governess who thinks she's seen the apparitions of her predecessor and that woman's lover, the valet Quint, who both came to mysterious ends. Ten years later, Michael Winner's The Nightcomers would offer a speculative version of what happened before, with Marlon Brando as Quint. That movie is best remembered as a cautionary tale involving how it came to be distributed in this country: Universal agreed to pick it up as part of a deal to cancel its contract with Brando, who they assumed would never have another hit in his life. Of course, his next picture was The Godfather. Hollywood: it's a scary place.

23. THE STEPFATHER (1987)

A wholly unexpected high point for the slash/fill-in-the-blank-from-Hell genre, with an original script by the matchless crime novelist Donald Newlove which achieves just the right balance of wit and nastiness. Terry O'Quinn makes anonymity terrifying as the title character, a serial murderer of the type known as a "family annihilator" -- unable to deal with cracks in his fantasy ideal of a perfect family, he keeps wiping out one domestic unit and moving on to another. The movie was inspired by Newlove's meditating on the case of the infamously colorless John List, who butchered his family in 1971, and who was still unapprehended when the movie came out; he was arrested in 1989, after being the subject of an episode of America's Most Wanted, and died in prison last March. A TV movie about List was made in 1993. He was played by Robert Blake.

22. NEAR DARK (1987)

Kathryn Biglow's artspolitation movie about a "family" of white trash vampires traveling the back roads in a van with the windows blacked out has an unusually potent mix of striking visual beauty and cutthroat action. Bill Paxton and Lance Henrikson have never looked closer to shitkicker heaven than in the movie's bloody set piece in a roadhouse; the wonderful, and much-missed Jenny Wright is hard to resist as the teen-sister figure, who winsomely infects the country-boy hero (Adrian Pasdar) with vampirism so that she'll have someone nice to talk to between massacres. And where have you gone, Jenette Goldstein? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

21. THE MUMMY (1932)

The legendary cinematographer Karl Freund, whose credits ranged from Metropolis and The Last Laugh to 149 episodes of I Love Lucy, worked as a director of English-language films for only three years in the early-to-mid '30s. This was his Hollywood directorial debut; the last film he directed was the 1935 horror movie Mad Love, and that title would have been a neat fit for this one, too. It stars Boris Karloff as a 3,000-year-old Egyptian who was entombed alive for trying to restore his dead beloved to life; resurrected, he gets right back on the case, having identified the heroine, Zita Johann, as the woman's reincarnation. Slow and dreamily poetic, this is very different from later mummy movies -- Karloff is unbandaged for most of the picture -- and also very different from most of the other classic Universal monster movies. It's the rare film about eternal love than makes you appreciate the fact that most loves have a natural shelf life.

Click Here For Part Two, Three, Four, Five, Six & Seven

Contributors: The Zombie Andrew Osborne, Kill Nugent

Take Five: Bring On the Bad Guys

Leonard Pierce — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 20:00:00 GMT

As you may have heard unless you've just gotten back from an alternate dimension with no public relations industry, The Dark Knight opens this weekend, and even our resident skeptic Scott Von Doviak is hailing Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker as one of the pinnacles of big-screen malevolance. Batman is the perfect illustration of the principle that a hero is only as good as his villains; the Clown Prince of Crime is the outstanding member of an unforgettable rogue's gallery that throws the lonely heroism of Bruce Wayne into sharp relief by illustrating the other facets of his personality and demonstrating how terrible he might have been had he not taken the path of righteousness. Indeed, there are any number of genres, from true crime to film noir to serial thrillers to even Shakespearean tragedy, that prove that a story is only as strong as its most detestable character. Crime, as the man once said, is only a left-handed form of human endeavor, and for every enigmatic nihilist like the Joker who simply wants to watch the world burn, there's a figure whose vileness and evil are the result of a good man gone just a little bit bad. If your showing of The Dark Knight is sold out, here's five movies featuring some of our favorite big-screen villains to tide you over until you get to hear Ledger's deadly cackle for yourself.

THE STEPFATHER (1987)

These days, Terry O'Quinn is best known for his portrayal of John Locke, the mysteriously healed castaway from Lost who can be both hero and villain as he attempts to forge a mystical connection with the island. But 20 years ago, when the veteran stage actor first came to the attention of the moviegoing public, it was in this smart little thriller about a man so obsessed with having the perfect family that he was willing to kill to get it. His face an affable blank, O'Quinn goes about his father-knows-best routine with barely a harsh word for anything, until something goes wrong. That's when the devil inside him comes up, and he moves quickly from tearing up his tool room to butchering his whole family. O'Quinn's tightly controlled performance here is what makes the movie, and his quiet intensity is what makes it so devastatingly effective when he temporarily forgets the careful fiction he's made of his life and asks, with genuine confusion, "Who am I here?" -- before remembering, and delivering the news to his new wife in an especially brutal way.

THE MINUS MAN (1999)

Though a flawed movie, The Minus Man -- directed by Hampton Fancher, best known for penning the screenplay to Blade Runner -- is also a compelling one, thanks to the strong performance by Owen Wilson as the main character, Vann Siegert. Turning the usual serial killer narrative on its head, The Minus Man presents Siegert as a kind, handome, likable young man who wants to put down roots, to fit in, to be somebody -- but most of all, to help people. The problem is, he thinks that most people are so miserable that the best way to help them is to kill them (gently, of course, with a fast, painless poison). So decent is this mass murderer that his own conscience has to step in occasionally and remind him that what he's doing is wrong, in the person of two imaginary FBI agents who torment him. And so convincing is Wilson in making Vann a likable figure that more than once, the viewer finds himself wishing they would just go away and leave the poor boy alone.

THE ADVENTURES OF BUCKAROO BANZAI ACROSS THE 8TH DIMENSION (1984)

Great villains don't always have to be grim, sinister, humorless killing machines. Sometimes, as in this delightful neo-pulp sci-fi musical comedy, they can be goofy, pompous, overblown killing machines with the worst fake Italian accents since Chico Marx. Dr. Emilio Lizardo, the nefarious Red Lectroid living in the body of a long-dead rocket scientist, is played in the film by John Lithgow, who hams it up like there's no tomorrow. He sticks electrodes on his toungue, he tortures helpless women with honey, he gives plagiarized inspirational speeches to his handful of followers, and he deliberately mispronounces the names of his underlings -- and he has a hell of a time doing it. Dressed up in cobbled-together bits and pieces of a dozen pulp archetypes, Lithgow gets support from a colossal cast of veteran character actors, including Dan Hedeya, Christopher Lloyd and Vincent Schiavelli, but he outshines them all, investing each one of his often hilarious lines with hooty gravitas.

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (2007)

Some critics found the character of Anton Chigurh in the Coen Brothers' masterful adaptation of a Cormac McCarthy novel to be so over-the-top as to read like a cartoonish supervillain. Others, though, found the understated psychopath, played by a preternaturaly detached Javier Bardem in one of the big screen's most memorable haircuts, to carry surprising depth for someone described by another character in the film as "the ultimate bad-ass". The most compelling thing about Chigurh is that, while everyone else perceives him as totally insane, his madness has the impenetrable integrity of the lunatic. To himself, his actions make perfect sense, and the more time we spend around his insanity, the more we begin to understand it: in the chilling scene near the movie's end where he pays a visit to the tragedy-stricken Carla Jean, we know that he's playing his own deranged interpretation of fair with her, and the terror we feel as the tension mounts comes from the fact that we know and she doesn't.

ROCKY III (1982)

Made at the exact moment in time that the Rocky franchise was becoming a laughable self-parody, but Mr. T had yet to do the same, Rocky III, while more or less a disaster in its second half and filled with hokey, ridiculous moments, does manage to give us some of the most thrilling scenes in the series. Why? Because it also gives us the greatest villain in the series: the brutal, granite-hard, contemptous Clubber Lang, a street-fighting brawler who has nothing but loathing for the soft celebrity smooth-talker that Stallone's Rocky Balboa has become. Patterned partly after the young George Foreman, Clubber Lang is a monster in the ring who lives to destroy his opponents and has developed a line of trash-talk so electrifying that it sends the gregarious Rocky into a rage while providing the most quotable dialogue in the whole Rocky series. And though he never showed himself capable of doing more than he does here, Mr. T is stunning: his hostile, spitting hatred of everyone but himself is so exciting to watch that for the film's first hour, it's hard to take your eyes off him.

In Other Blogs: Critical Condition

Scott Von Doviak — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 15:00:00 GMT

As regular readers of this column know, we like to single out blog posts that bring a fresh perspective to these pictures we call motion; finely crafted, passionate posts that allow us all to see cinema through new eyes. But more than that, we love a good pissing contest.

This latest one began with another lamentation over the position of the modern film critic – otherwise known as the unemployment line. A piece called “Where Have All the Film Critics Gone?” from The Brooklyn Rail quoted several notable film bloggists, like Matt Zoller Seitz who said, “I think we’re fast approaching the point where criticism will become, for the most part, a devotion rather than a job.” And then there was Michael Atkinson, who wrote on his Zero For Conduct blog: ““[T]he existence of full-time staff film reviewers is a nutty aberration in the history of periodical publishing…I’d love to see every magazine employ an army of full-time culture reviewers, and pay them millions, but it doesn’t make very much sense, for the simple reason that it’s not truly a full-time job.”

That didn’t sit well with Glenn Kenny, who recently lost his own full-time job with Premiere. At his “own bought-and-paid-for-blog, thank you very g-ddamn much,” Some Came Running, Kenny responds, “Gee, thanks, Michael. Whether you know it or not—and I rather suspect you do—you've just given a long belt of ammunition to the Sam Zells of the world. The gutters, the "cost-cutters," the content-haters, the obscenely rich resenters who think this whole "journalism" thing is a racket enacted by a bunch of smarty-pants elitist slackers. Way to be, pal. And while we're at it, define ‘full time.’ ‘I've done the job. I know how much time it takes,’ you puff to Rossmeir. (And um, just when did you turn into John fucking Milius, anyway?) What was it Red Smith said? ‘Writing is easy. You just sit down at the typewriter and open a vein.’ I know, Michael, I know—Red Smith was probably some kind of pussy…You told Rossmeir that you didn't think critics who only work 10 to 12 hours a week should be paid like other professionals who work 40. Well, you know, that's why there's freelance journalism, which pays by the word, or by the piece. Generally speaking, if you're a staff member at a magazine, the amount of time you spend at your job is compounded merely by the fact that you're a staff member. NYT critics A.O. Scott and Manohla Dargis aren't woolgathering when they're not writing reviews. Frequently, they're writing other pieces, for Arts and Leisure or for the magazine. Scott does video reviews. Both do on-line stuff. And both partake in the culture of being a staff member, that is, they go to meetings and such.” I’ve been a freelance movie reviewer for years, and used to yearn for a staff job, but – they go to meetings? Forget it!

At Scanners, Jim Emerson weighs in on the kerfuffle. (Yes, I’m officially dubbing it a kerfuffle.) “I've never had to support myself by working at a weekly or a monthly, and I don't know what Atkinson's situation was at the Voice, but if all he had to do as a staff critic was see ‘three or four movies a week’ and then knock out ‘1,000 or 1,500 words’ (apiece? altogether?) -- and he could live on the money he made from doing that -- then, wow, that's a really sweet gig and I don't blame him for feeling that he was running a scam. Somebody was. Because, in my experience, those numbers don't come close to adding up. Three or four movies a week wouldn't even cover major-studio wide releases. Who covers the rest (four? eight? a dozen?) for the week, the ‘art house,’ revival house, museum and nonprofit venue pictures that rely on reviews to find an audience? And since when do writers of any kind get paid by the hour? You're cashing checks just for the time you spend actually sitting at a keyboard, but for all the things you have to do in order to enable you to write. So a salary for a writer, reporter and/or film critic (and all three job descriptions fit the ‘critic’ designation) isn't exactly an hourly job, nor is it the equivalent of tenure. It's more like a retainer, for your work and what goes into producing it, but also for your availability. What's actually published is just the tail end of a much larger and longer process.”

David Poland at The Hot Button gets in on the action. “Yes, writers are valued in a different way than the people who print the papers, sell the papers, and even, to some degree, edit the papers. The work of a daily Metro writer or a daily political writer is something else. A daily byline is a special kind of grind that is more like a traditional job. But that’s not the part I have a problem with. What Atkinson misunderstands – and by dint of his own exit from the print work, understandably as an ego protection – is that ‘writers' availability and flow of copy’ is every bit as valued today as it ever was. What is quite different is that publishers expect to see some cause and effect from those they keep on board. If you are a film critic or highly paid entertainment journalist at a print outlet, you better have a following that cares about what you say – which doesn’t necessarily translate to ticket sales – or you are dead.”

Okay, enough about that. Let’s wrap it up with List-o-Mania, circling back to Glenn Kenny’s former place of employment, Premiere, for a special Father’s Day feature: The 10 Maddest, Baddest Daddies in Film. We’d never quibble with the inclusion of Jack Torrance from The Shining or Terry O’Quinn’s Stepfather, but whither Christopher Walken from At Close Range?

Dave Stevens (1955-2008)

Phil Nugent — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 16:00:00 GMT

The illustrator and comic book artist Dave Stevens died earlier this week at the age of 52 after a long struggle with leukemia. Stevens was best known as the creator of the Rocketeer, an adventure character that first appeared in various titles published by Pacific, a short-lived independent comics company in the early 1980s. (After Pacific went out of business, he jumped to other now-defunct "independent" comics publishers--Eclipse, Comico--before winding up at Dark Horse.) Set in Los Angeles in the years leading up to World War II, the comics centered on Cliff Secord, a scrappy young stunt pilot who battles Nazis and performs other acts of derring-do after stumbling across a portable jet pack that turns him into a two-fisted flying fool. The comics inspired a 1991 movie, directed by Joe Johnston, that worked hard to capture the look of Stevens's comics, and with a cast that included Bill Campbell in the lead, Jennifer Connelly as his girl Betty, and Alan Arkin, Timothy Dalton (in a role modeled on Errol Flynn), and Terry O'Quinn, of Lost, as Howard Hughes.

The movie was okay, but Stevens had essentially already made his own Rocketeer movie; he just did it on paper. He didn't turn out many pages of Cliff Secord's adventures, because he put so much painstaking work into them that there were long, long lulls between the appearance of each new short chapter, an effect that was amplified by the fact that his publishing companies kept dying on him. It was worth the effort he put into them. (The film critic Charles Taylor described them as "little pieces of kitsch heaven.") Stevens was really crazy about the pop culture of a certain place and time, and part of what set his work apart was that he was driven to lavish his loving eye and craftsmanship on some very tacky, and even sleazy, love objects. Secord was a carny hanger-on making a buck any way he could, and his beloved Betty was explicitly modeled on the pin-up icon Bettie Page, whose image Stevens did a hell of a lot to resurrect and immortalize. (He also rediscovered, and befriended, the actual Ms. Page, who probably never expected to outlive him.) The "Rocketeer" comics also incorporated a lot of period Hollywood lore, as well as nods to such iconic ephemera as the masked image of the Saturday-matinee hero Commander Cody, Rondo Hatton, and the Doc Savage sidekick Monk Mayfair. Stevens earned his right to slap all this stuff together by giving it a unifying visual dazzle and afectionate spirit. His masterwork is probably one of the best marriages of movies and comics ever brought off.

The Rock IS "The Tooth Fairy" and Other Worst-Case Scenarios

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 20:30:00 GMT

As soon as Jon Stewart bid us goodnight and told us to drive home safely, the powers that be in Hollywood breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, they could put all of this "quality filmmaking" nonsense behind them and open the crapgates for another load of sequels, remakes and high-concept star vehicles.

Leading the parade is Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, who will play an ordinary Joe who takes over the Tooth Fairy's duties in, well, The Tooth Fairy. Yes, it's basically The Santa Clause all over again, and appropriately enough, it will be directed by Michael Lembeck, who helmed the two Clause sequels. The concept might also ring a bell for those who have closely followed Arnold Schwarzenegger's career. As Entertainment Weekly reported in 1992, The Man Who Would Be Governator had his choice of several projects, including "Sweet Tooth, an action comedy about a U.S. Marine who finds out at his father's deathbed that he's inheriting the family legacy — the job of tooth fairy." (He opted for The Last Action Hero. We'll call this one a draw.)

In other news, despite their claims to the contrary, it appears that Paul Greengrass and Matt Damon are both on board for a fourth Bourne adventure. (If they're looking for a title, may we suggest Bourne to Be Wild?) We've enjoyed all the jittery suspense as much as anyone, but surely these guys have better things to do than go to this particular well one more time.

Finally we have the latest in unwanted and unnecessary horror remakes. The duo behind the fourth and fifth Saw installments (Patrick Melton and Marcus Dunstan, who scripted Feast for Project Greenlight) have been hired to resurrect Hellraiser, while Dylan Walsh of Nip/Tuck will attempt to fill Terry O'Quinn's shoes as The Stepfather. We're trembling with fear already.