As far as thrillers go, AG is perhaps a little on the un-engaging side. While it does share many stylistic similarities to the work of Brian De Palma, Schrader proves to be less concerned with technique and aesthetics and much more fascinated by the underlying psychology of his characters. While De Palma's films tend to be over-the-top, AG is anything but the opposite; this may interest some, but it will surely bore others. One thing remains certain: few films established the 80's in the same way.

"Guy moves very quickly. He sets up a shot, two or three takes, moves on. Ridley at times had four different camera crews filming one scene. And this isn't for an action scene; it's for a talking scene."

"It opens with a bit of a bang, and then, about a third of the way in, a little ticking clock starts, and it moves faster and faster right up until the last frame. And you get to see Tom Cruise come face to face with Adolf Hitler!"

I think their interpretation of its acceptance in pop culture is that it somehow tarnishes the movie and they can’t understand that it’s what keeps it alive. I think they really ought to loosen up and embrace it. They should own their Scarface.

Tucker echoes Pauline Kael's estimation of Orson Wells' Citizen Kane when he calls Scarface a "shallow masterpiece," but he differentiates the two films in his book's introduction. He writes:

No, what Scarface is, in a sense, is something bigger, more outsized than [whatever it is that makes Citizen Kane "great"]. [Scarface] is a great and shallow masterpiece of pop, a work of diverse mongrel artistry. It's all surface, but, boy, what Brian De Palma, Oliver Stone, and Al Pacino applied to that surface. It glows, it glistens, it retains its sheen of power, glory, and shimmeringly decadent rot a quarter century after its release. It remains a tremendously exciting and dismaying piece of moviemaking, unique in the careers of every one of its various creators.

As a film and as a pop culture phenomenon, Tucker appreciates Scarface very much, and his book takes a non-linear approach in exploring both the origins of De Palma's film and the unpredictable journey it has taken since it was released 25 years ago this month. Delving into the "disreputable and sneaky" way the film has and continues to seep into American culture (via posters, T-shirts, mansions, parties, etc.) Tucker concludes that "Scarface belongs to no single author, and therefore we are all free to be the auteurs of Tony Montana's saga, and his life everlasting."

TUCKER SAYS GOODNIGHT TO THE BAD GUY
I will write more about this book later this week, delving into some of Stone's thoughts on the film via a new interview for Tucker's book. At the end of Scarface Nation, Tucker acknowledges that he consulted the "superb" De Palma a la Mod, as well as Bill Fentum's "invaluable" (and unfortunately now defunct) website, briandepalma.net. Tucker was also able to get a few quotes from De Palma when he ran into the director during the 2005 Toronto Film Festival. Tucker closes his book with the following about that instance:

At that time, [De Palma] said he would sit down for a more extensive interview. He subsequently declined all my follow-up requests. I will refrain from using a Scarfacian imprecation regarding this behavior, and simply say goodnight to the bad guy.

I should also mention that throughout the book, Tucker displays a fondness for several of De Palma's films, especially The Fury, which he describes in loving detail as a way to delve into some of De Palma's stylistic themes. In this section, Tucker states, "The climax of The Fury is, in its way, just as bloody and tragic and 'operatic' as that of Scarface." However, as I loved Tucker's book overall, it pains me to say that he should have gone back and looked at The Fury more closely, because he gets certain significant facts about who was killing who and what actress was playing the one getting killed, etc., wrong. This leads Tucker to suggest inadvertantly that Gillian purposely killed a woman in a savage manner prior to meeting Robin, which simply is not true. But don't let that dissuade you from checking out this unique and otherwise well-informed book.

Also check out Michael Sragow's interview with Tucker.

Gee, I'm not sure. Either Dressed to Kill, Carrie or Blow Out. In my memory I discovered these three pictures almost simultaneously. Whatever it was, I watched it in horrible pan-and-scan and was mesmerized anyway. What really triggered my interest in De Palma were a few preview clips of Body Double on TV; that marvelous beach scene and a bit of Jake Scully running to save Gloria from that hulking Indian with the giant drill. I was too young to be allowed to see it in the cinema, but I made a vow to rent Body Double as soon as it became available. The restrictions for theaters were harsh, but in the early ‘80s a 13-year-old could go and rent Faces of Death and no one would blink an eye.

While 24 Lies A Second is defunct (the site's articles can now be found posted at The House Next Door), we look forward to a new series of Directorama strips.

Director Brian De Palma (one of those directors who never leaves anything to chance) shoots from just two angles*--both two-shots because the scene is about the two men and their needs: Ness' for Malone's help and expertise, and Malone for Ness' commitment. The first shot looks up at them from a forward pew, looking through their hands at their up-turned faces. In Malone's hands are his fob with his master key and a medal of St. Jude ("the patron saint of Lost Causes" "...and cops," as we'll find out later.), which swings like a guillotine at times in the scene. Ness' hands are folded together, as if in prayer, as if pleading. The other shot is more difficult to get--it required a split-focal lens that would keep both Ness and Malone in sharp focus despite their different proximities to the camera. Ness is in profile (an angle that connotes dismissal, or supplication) Malone is talking directly at Ness, and to the camera, and that angle is saved for the most dramatically charged speeches. Ness' face is soft, doughy, unsure. And Malone's is craggy, lined and in constant conflict--at points angry, pitying, weak, and hard. The men are talking about life and death--for themselves and the city of Chicago. Good intentions are not good enough. You have to do what needs to be done to win. To not win is to die. It's all or nothing. There is no "middle way." Commit or die. The scene begins with Ness looking at the medal in Malone's hands. It reaches its crux when Malone looks at Ness' praying hands. Both tell each men all they need to know.

Be sure to read all the way to the bottom, where Yojimbo relates a story about Sean Connery playing 18 holes of golf before filming his "advice" scene in two takes.

This seldom seen, gripping and vibrant science-fiction spy chiller ranks with Carrie, Scarface and The Untouchables as director Brian De Palma’s best work. Featuring Richard Kline’s superb cinematography, it constantly delivers punch after punch of fear and suspense.

(Thanks to Randy!)