Once Again Ain’t Got Not Time For Corner Boys-With Clint Eastwood And Jeff Bridges’ Thunderbolt And Lightfoot (1974) In Mind-Yet Again A Film Review Of Sorts

DVD Review

By Zack James
     
Thunderbolt and Lightfoot, starring Clint Eastwood, Jeff Bridges, George Kennedy, 1974

Yeah, I know it has been a while since you have seen my by-line running in this publication but let me explain. Or try to since our site manager Greg Green has asked me to ask for your indulgences. This whole mess really goes back to 2017, the year of the 50^th anniversary of the Summer of Love which if you do not know by now let me tell you got practically 24/7/365 coverage in American Left History. The saturation coverage ordered by previous site manager Allan Jackson (and one of those “present as the creation” as they like to say when this publication started out in hard copy form back in 1974, I think) for young and old writers alike. This ordered madness started a rebellion among the younger writers, which included me, who did not give a rat’s ass about the Summer of Love or had to ask the older writers or their parents what it was all about.

What is not well known is that my oldest brother, Alex, just Alex not Alexander, was the catalyst for that wall to wall coverage after he went out to San Francisco that year and was inundated with stuff commemorating the event including a multimedia exhibition at the de Young Museum in Golden Gate Park the site of much of the music madness. Once Alex talked to Allan the gold rush was on. See Alex, Allan and the key person driving the action that year the late Pete Markin had been, at Markin’s urging knee- deep in the Summer of Love craziness that stalked the land then. Moreover, as a result of all that nostalgia. Alex, Allan and whoever was left standing from the old Acre neighborhood of North Adamsville located south of Boston, the Tonio’s Pizza Parlor (which is still there just with long gone Tonio) “corner boys” got together to contribute to a memorial book of their experiences, including 1967 in honor of their fallen comrade Markin. Markin, the “idea” guy for a million legal and illegal things they did back in the day, their expression not mine. (Being a decade younger than Alex I did not know or remember much about Markin, except the stories, although he and Alex were best friends and he had come over to our house many times).

Guess who they wanted to iron out the contributions, the personal remembrances, edit and see that the thing was produced. Yes, yours truly. Which leads us to the reason for my prolonged absence from my by-line. Another Acre corner boy, Jimmy Higgins, the “muscle” of the group, of the corner boys, passed away in 2018 and Alex, Allan and the others tagged me with doing the same things for a memorial book in Jimmy’s honor (a guy I did not know at all and who as far as I know never came to the house).

This work on the combination of books and the extraordinary, hell, maybe weird is better exploits of this generation of corner boys is what I immediately started thinking about when Greg assigned me my first film review back Clint Eastwood (Thunderbolt) and Jeff Bridges’ (Lightfoot) Thunderbolt and Lightfoot from 1974. Not that either of them were corner boys, or at least I don’t think so since Clint’s character was several years older than the brash Bridges’ but that throughout the film the bonds of buddy-hood grew until the tragic end of Lightfoot succumbing to the vicious injuries sustained when one of their comrades in crime Red, played by George Kennedy, went crazy after the heist they pulled off. Those bonds and that age difference, experience difference is what is driving this final part of the review.

The contribution from several corner boys that overlapped both memorial books was the role that one “Trigger” Burke played as a model for the Acre corner boys. Burke was about ten years older than my brother and his crowd but as they came to high school age they would see Trigger around, would see him coming out of the Dublin Grille (no longer there), mostly, which was a few doors down from Tonio’s and he would stop and talk to them. Burke was something of a local legend among corner boys from all the corners, a guy who had done a few bank robberies, done a little time and had plenty of money (and girls, women not all of them his age either usually younger and according to Alex foxy) and respect among the eager corner boys.

Markin, and Jimmy Higgins who lived across the street from the rooming house where Burke lived, were the real devotees of what he had to say. As it turned out half of Markin’s ideas, his plans for grabbing dough, fast and smooth, had been hatched by one Trigger Burke. As Alex kept painfully reminding me the ideas might have been Markin’s via Burke but the operation chief was always after a first close call with the coppers when Markin led the operation had been one Frankie Riley, the acknowledged leader of the Tonio’s corner boys.

Given the plotline of this film, basically after various crazed and random wild boy escapades in the hills of Montana Thunderbolt and Lightfoot, now bonded for life, a heist film it was no wonder why I thought about those Burke stories. In the end although the second heist was botched by Red’s crazed response to Lightfoot and the pair found the original heist money, they got away clean. Well as I telegraphed above not real clean since Lightfoot passed away from his injuries from that bastard Red. A cause for thought. I was glad in a way as much as I admired my distance oldest brother Alex that I was ten years younger than him and never had to go the midnight creep route by the time I got to highs school.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot, that Trigger Burke who lived across the street from the late Jimmy Higgins when he was growing up was none other than one of the famous Brink’s armored truck robbery guys in the early 1950s. No wonder the Acre corner boys worshiped at his shrine.
                                       

***When The Wild West Really Was The Wild West- “Wild Bill”- A Jeff Bridges Retrospective

 


DVD Review

Wild Bill, Jeff Bridges, Ellen Barkin, John Hurt, directed by Walter Hill, 1995

 
Those of us who grew up in the 1950s, those of now AARP-worthy , in the early days of television, black and white television, got our heroes, our Western cowboy heroes strictly in white hat, and our bad guys, mal hombres, strictly in black. And the Indians (a.k.a. Native Americans these days) well, the less said about the treatment of those benighted and betrayed people the better. Of course this view was all hokum, or worst. It took the likes of Larry McMurtry, Cormac McCormack and others in literature to give us a more realistic view of the rawness, untamed rawness of the Old West. And the likes of Walter Hill to give us a more truthful cinematic view, a view with muddy streets, whiskey breathe, fistfights at the drop of a hat, white or black , treachery among enemies, treachery among friends, many social diseases and all. And that was on the good days. The good director here has taken on the legend of Wild Bill Hickok, generally given the better of it in Western lore as an associate of Buffalo Bill, a civilizing influence, and a king hell gunfighter.

Of course, the subtext for this review is that the actor playing Will Bill is none other than Academy Award winner Jeff Bridges for his “modern” cowboy role (singer-songwriter, okay) in Crazy Hearts. My argument underlying the choice of subtext is that Bridges was born to play theses good old boy Western parts and has done mainly stellar work in the genre ever since he cut his teeth on the modern Texas good-old-boy-in-the-making Duane Jackson in the film adaptation of McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show. And at the acting level that is true here, although the existential characterization and the Bridges cool wit is perhaps a little over the top for the nitty-gritty West of the late 19th century.

One comes away from this film feeling, and maybe not incorrectly, that the distance between hero and villain (here in this contrived concoction about the manner of Bill’s untimely end, and as avenger -villain, the son, the driven son of “spurned” mother whom was once Wild Bill’s lover) is who is left standing at the end. And for most of his life from his service in the Union Armies during the American Civil War until that fateful day that Bill was just one step too cool Will Bill was the last one left standing. But, see there was that little matter of the spurned woman, and that driven son to lay old Bill low.

In any case if you have not seen a Western since the 1950s (although I guess I would want to know where you have been) you will be hard-pressed to sort out the heroes from the villains in this film. The Indians (a.k.a. Native Americans) as usual, in real life or fiction, get short shrift.

 

***A Jeff Bridges Retrospective- “Stick It” (Yes, Stick It) - A Film Review

 


DVD Review

Stick It, starring Jeff Bridges, Missy Peregrym, Touchstone Films, 2006

Over the past few years or so, since he won the Academy Award for best actor for his role as broken down country singer/songwriter Bad Blake in Crazy Hearts I have been reviewing the cinematic work of Jeff Bridges as his films have come into my hands. Most of my reviews have been positive reflecting the very real talent and flare that Jeff Bridges brings to the movies. That said, I am at a lost for why he did the film under review, Stick It, that while marginally entertaining at times is an incredible waste of his time and talent.

Now I am not, and never have been, privy to the decisions that actors make about taking on scripts. Maybe they see something in the plot line, maybe they are looking for something a little edgy, or maybe just for the dough, not an unimportant consideration in fickle movie land. But now I can add Jeff Bridges to the vast number of very talented actors that have been in “turkeys”, for whatever reason.

Strangely, it is not the subject matter, the trials and tribulation of a troubled, ex- or maybe not so ex- gymnast (Haley Graham, played by Missy Peregrym) trying to find her place in the world, the non-monastic gymnastics training world that is off here but the subtext that the teenage rebellion of a gymnast attempting to dramatically change the way the sport is conducted has enough energy to fill an hour and one half film. It really doesn’t since an amazing amount of time is spent in various clips of gym activity. And Jeff Bridges as a washed-out (kind of) gym camp owner is in the thick of this thing as Haley’s substitute father/confessor.

There are plenty of issues (sexual, physical, psychological) that could have been raised by a close look at the cult-like elite gymnastics world (or any high-level sports training) but none, other than a silly attack on the scoring system, are addressed by a film which decided that it did not want to tackle them and played instead to a kind of campy teenage melodrama. And high talent (although poor gymnast, incredible poor, making me feel practically like a champ in comparison, a very hard task to do, and sage) Jeff Bridges got caught in the middle.

When Bad Blake Was Bad- Jeff Bridges’ “Rancho Deluxe”

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Jeff Bridges’ Rancho Deluxe

DVD Review

Rancho Deluxe, starring Jeff Bridges, Sam Waterston, United Artists, 1975

I have over the past several years, ever since Jeff Bridges won his well- deserved Oscar for his portrayal of bad boy singer-songwriter Bad Blake, in Crazy Hearts been on a tear to review his earlier work. My premise has been all along that the persona of Bad was genetically-engineered in Bridges by his previous performances on the screen. And in some case that proved true. In the film under review here, Rancho Deluxe, an argument can be made for the randomness of that genetic structuring. This one does not lead to thoughts of future Oscars (or nominations) for one Jeff Bridges.

Why? The 1970s were a great time to debunk the various ingrained notions about the heroic cowboy, about the “freedom” of the Old West, and about the civilizing mission of the white man. This film attempt in its way to put a big pin in that balloon with a send-up of what the New West looks like. That is not bad as an idea, except the saga gets bogged down in 1970s ennui (or maybe anytime ennui). Jeff and Sam (Waterston, as an Indian, not a Native American even) are cattle rustlers in Big Sky Montana seemingly out on a lark. The get in and out of various forms of mischief and mayhem, with and without women, until the final reckoning- caught and placed in the state pen (not like the old days when they would have been hanged, hanged high). And that seems fitting. Sorry Jeff, maybe that is why I had a hard time finding this one to review.

When The Wild West Really Was The Wild West- “Wild Bill”- A Jeff Bridges Retrospective

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Wild Bill Hickok.

DVD Review

Wild Bill, Jeff Bridges, Ellen Barkin, John Hurt, directed by Walter Hill, 1995

Those of us who grew up in the 1950s in the early days of television, black and white television, got our heroes, our Western heroes strictly in white hat, and our bad guys strictly in black. And the Indians (a.k.a. Native Americans) well, the less said about the treatment of those benighted and betrayed people the better. Of course this view was all hokum, or worst. It took the likes of Larry McMurtry, Cormac McCormack and others in literature to give us a more realistic view of the rawness, untamed rawness of the Old West. And the likes of Walter Hill to give us a more truthful cinematic view, a view with muddy streets, whiskey breathe, fistfights at the drop of a hat, or less, treachery among enemies, treachery among friends, many social diseases and all. And that was on the good days. The good director here has taken on the legend of Wild Bill Hickock, generally given the better of it in Western lore as an associate of Buffalo Bill, a civilizing influence, and a king hell gunfighter.

Of course, the subtext for this review is that the actor playing Will Bill is none other that last year’s Academy Award winner Jeff Bridges for his “modern” cowboy role (singer-songwriter, okay) in Crazy Hearts. My argument underlying the choice of subtext is that Bridges was born to play theses good old boy Western parts and has done mainly stellar work in the genre ever since he cut his teeth on the modern Texas good-old-boy-in-the-making Duane Jackson in the film adaptation of McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show. And at the acting level that is true here, although the existential characterization and the Bridges cool wit is perhaps a little over the top for the nitty-gritty West of the late 19th century.

One comes away from this film feeling, and maybe not incorrectly, that the distance between hero and villain (here in this contrived concoction about the manner of Bill’s untimely end, as villain, the son, the driven son of “spurned” mother whom was once Wild Bill’s lover) is who is left standing at the end. And for most of his life from his service in the Union Armies during the American Civil War until that fateful day that Bill was just one step too cool Will Bill was the last one left standing. But, see there was that little matter of the spurned woman, and that driven son to lay old Bill low. In any case if you have not seen a Western since the 1950s (although I guess I would want to know where you have been) you will be hard-pressed to sort out the heroes from the villains here. The Indians (a.k.a. Native Americans) as usual, in real life or fiction, get short shrift.

A Jeff Bridges Retrospective- “Stick It” (Yes, Stick It)- A Film Review

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Stick It, starring Jeff Bridges.

DVD Review

Stick It, starring Jeff Bridges, Missy Peregrym, Touchstone Films,2006

Over the past year or so, since he won the Academy Award for best actor for his role as broken down country singer/songwriter Bad Blake in Crazy Hearts I have been reviewing the cinematic work of Jeff Bridges as his films have come into my hands. Most of my reviews have been positive reflecting the very real talent and flare that Jeff Bridges brings to the movies. That said, I am at a lost for why he did the film under review, Stick It, that while marginally entertaining at times is an incredible waste of his time and talent. Now I am not, and never have been, privy to the decisions that actors make about taking on scripts. Maybe they see something in the plot line, maybe they are looking for something a little edgy, or maybe just for the dough, not an unimportant consideration in fickle movie land. But now I can add Jeff Bridges to the vast number of very talented actors that have been in “turkeys”, for whatever reason.

Strangely, it is not the subject matter, the trials and tribulation of a troubled, ex- or maybe not so ex- gymnast (Haley Graham, played by Missy Peregrym) trying tot find her place in the world, the non-monastic gymnastics training world that is off here but the subtext that the teenage rebellion of a gymnast attempting to dramatically change the way the sport is conducted has enough energy to fill an hour and one half film. It really doesn’t since an amazing amount of time is spent in various clips of gym activity. And Jeff Bridges as a washed-out (kind of) gym camp owner is in the thick of this thing as Haley’s substitute father/confessor. There are plenty of issues (sexual, physical, psychological) that could have been raised by a close look at the cult-like elite gymnastics world (or any high-level sports training) but none, other than a silly attack on the scoring system, are by a film which decided that it did not want to tackle them and played instead to a kind of campy teenage melodrama. And high talent (although poor gymnast and sage) Jeff Bridges got caught in the middle.