Opinion — In San Francisco With A New York State Of Mind

John Irving recently commented on advice to writers often attributed to Ernest Hemingway, who purportedly said, “Write what you know.”  Irving said that it was “… a horrible limitation to put on the novel or play.  Don’t learn anything.  Why don’t you just say that?”

Ernest Hemingway, Writer & Pugilist

No doubt there would be a great battle of egos if they were contemporaries.  Given their love of proving their physical superiority — Hemingway the boxer and Irving the wrestler —might have had to “get ready to rumble!”  In this case, I think Hemingway’s advice was right and Irving got it wrong.  I doubt Hemingway would suggest writers “stop learning.”  Seems to me he was trying to tell writers that they should know what they are talking about. That in no way keeps us from learning more about anything or certainly the subjects we intend to engage — at least to the extent we engage them.  Nothing wrong with research.

The other night I watched CSI New York.  I gave up on the CSIs some time ago.  I tuned in because the promos showed that part of the show took place in San Francisco.  I suspect many people are curious to see how the places they live are reflected on screen.  In this case, I’m not sure why CSI bothered.  They got everything wrong. 

John Irving, Writer & Wrestler

For starters, there are no cable cars anywhere near Haight Ashbury.  Nor is there a corner of Fulton and Page.  The two streets run parallel. And of course we have all sorts of young hippies according to the recent episode.  The problem is there really aren’t any young hippies.  Hippies, bless them, those that remain, are on social security.   At the end of the episode, one of the New York characters is invited back to the city by the Bay to continue a romance. She says she’s not sure she fits in with blue skies and suntans.  There are blue skies here from time to time and they are especially prized because of their infrequency.  But more to the point, you won’t find very many, if any, tanned San Franciscans.  In the case of geography, the truth was only a Google map away and with regard to other social and environmental observations, perhaps a brief conversation with someone who lived here might have helped.  Next time I try to set a realistic story in New York, I’ll just put some coconut palms and flamingoes along the Hudson River and the corner of Park Avenue and Lexington.

Not only did the show provide false information, it left those of us familiar with the city a reason not to suspend our disbelief with regard to the story.  So, I’m with the school of “write what you know.”

I know there is a much larger interpretation to the discussion surrounding “write what you know,” than merely getting the geography right — and certainly you can write about what you imagine.  You don’t have to die to write a murder scene is also true.  But there is a word, authenticity, that is bandied about now. It’s one of the few trendy words I like.  Unless the writer invents a city, he or she should get the street names right.  Unless the writer invents a universe or is otherwise playing with such things as gravity or the doors of perception, it seems that knowing the subject matter is a kind of minimal expectation.

It seems to me it is hard to convince a reader or a viewer about anything when you get a lot of it wrong.

Film Pairings — Smart Crime Films And Great Car Chases

There was a period in American cinema when a thrilling crime film meant stringing together a series of wild car chases. Oops, that time never ended. But it may have begun in 1968 with Bullit, which had one brilliant chase scene around and over the hills of San Francisco.  The French Connection came along three years later with a classic chase that seems to one up the climactic scene in Bullit.  This time we have another classic chase, with a cop in a ’71 LeMans trying to keep up with a speeding and eventually out-of-control elevated train. These two films went a long way to seal the fame of two fine actors — Steve McQueen as Bullit and Gene Hackman as “Popeye” in The French Connection.

The French Connection has the more complex plot and, perhaps because of this, takes a little time to take off.  We start in sunny, seedy and scenic Marseille, the city we all suspect is France’s center of illicit activities. We eventually find ourselves in New York, where there is a shortage and consequently a hungry consumer demand for heroin. Based on a true story recounted in the novel by Robin Moore, a couple of second-rate cops want to bring down a clever narcotics chieftain. Director William Friedkin brought this kind of dark film from a stylish and perhaps mannered noir to a gritty realism — or at least the realism as it is perceived in the 1970s. No heroes here.  Just a thriller that builds to an end that is both frantic and mad.  The film won several Academy Awards and nominations including wins for Hackman and Friedman. Roy Scheider was also nominated for Best Supporting Actor.

You can credit or blame Bullit for making the car chase as big a deal as it is? And who knows how many Ford Mustangs it helped sell?  Like The French Connection, Bullit was both a critical and box office success.  It had a few Academy Award nominations as well. 

A smarmy, pompous D.A., played to a tee by Robert Vaughn, calls on San Francisco Police Lieutenant Frank Bullitt, played with admirable restraint by Steve McQueen. Respected cop, McQueen, is ordered to guard a key witness before he testifies in a high-profile trial of a dangerous man.  It all goes wrong in a hurry and the D.A. wants Bullit’s head.  Bullit thinks there’s something fishy about the whole thing. The story is tight and told quickly — downright breezy compared to the first on the bill.  The pay-off is the car chase on the streets of what may be the hilliest city in the country.  Peter Yates (The Friends of Eddie Coyle) directs.  The film is based on the book, Mute Witness, by Robert L. Fish, who was twice awarded an Edgar by the Mystery Writers of America.

Hackman, in his role, drinks whiskey on the rocks when he’s at a bar and straight from his flask when he isn’t. But we do have these characters from France.  They drink red wine. And while Bullit probably doesn’t consult the Wine Spectator for wine selection advice, he is in San Francisco and appears to like wine more than your average homicide cop.  So keep those facts in mind when you decide how you want the evening to go.

Film Pairing — Tales of Two Fathers and Two Sons

By putting Perrier’s Bounty and City by the Sea together, we have a pair of father-son crime stories, both films with highly talented casts. While one is a dark comedy and the other merely dark, we have similar sensibilities at play. We also have, in my opinion, a similar sensitivity in the bright, young actors who play the wayward but highly redeemable sons — Cillian Murphy in Bounty and James Franco in City by the Sea.

Perrier’s Bounty (2011) is a twisted, quirky tale directed by Ian Fitzgibbon and narrated admirably by Gabriel Byrne. Set in Dublin, it stars Brendan Gleeson (In Bruges) as a crime boss who takes his own cruel actions as if they are personal affronts. “It’s devastating,” he says time and time again after doing something horrible. Jim Broadbent, convinced that if he goes to sleep he will die and that he will eventually sleep, believes he has nothing to lose by putting his life in danger. He is as hilariously courageous as he is a bad influence on his son, Murphy, who by fate and misjudgment makes all the wrong moves.

City by the Sea (2002) is a dark, violent thriller, sensitively set up and perhaps a bit too rushed at the end. Robert De Niro and Frances McDormand star in this gritty film that has more depth and less levity than Bounty. Set in New York — primarily a tremendously unap-pealing Long Island — the film is directed by Michael Caton-Jones who sets the action against this stark, desolated backdrop. Franco, who plays the son of a seasoned street cop, gives a moving portrayal of a young, petty criminal in way over his head.

It is not only interesting to compare the two young sons, but also the two fathers. Both of them seek some sort of redemption. Broadbent’s character is all too willing to help his son out of deep trouble as repayment for his own failure as a parent. De Niro, as Franco’s father, is a character with a lot of extra ethical baggage. Yes, ethical baggage. He is not at all eager to do the same for his lost son despite the fact the son deserves salvation.

Neither of the films received rave reviews when they were released. The comments were mixed at best. However, from my comfy sofa and flat screen TV, they were more than satisfying. I enjoyed the fine acting, the gritty cinematography and the drama much better than I would a couple of hours of long-in-the-tooth Law and Order SUV or the over-DNA’d CSI Miami.

It doesn’t matter which one you watch first. But, if you want to end on a lighter, more comedic note, do Perrier’s Bounty last. To accompany the evening, why not pour some Guinness? It works in New York and most certainly works for Dublin. And I’ve found a good, dark beer can add depth to the sadness and enhance the laughter.

CAPTION: Cillian Murphy (top), James Franco, (bottom).

Film Pairing — Murder & Politics, Not So Strange Bedfellows

Mixing politics and murder often makes for a great story. There are real life dramas surrounding the assassination of the Kennedys. Certainly the New Orleans-connected killing of Lee Harvey Oswald by Jack Ruby could be the basis for a fascinating film if we every figured out what went on. And fiction pales against the stories of the killing of Martin Luther King, the disappearances of James Hoffa and Judge Crater as well as the attempt on George Wallace’s and Ronald Reagan’s lives.

But there are a number of films that deal with the mix of murder and politics. And given that we are subjected to politics, politics, politics all day long, here are two movies — studies in corruption — that can accompany today’s news.

The first is City Hall (1996). It is based on an original screenplay, and is set in contemporary New York. John Cusack, Danny Aiello and Bridget Fonda join Al Pacino. (Also, there is a brilliant appearance by Martin Landau.)

Some of the mystery blogs are listing the all-time great over-actors. Pacino is listed in the top ten. Admittedly, he chews a bit of the scenery in this one as well; but I don’t know who else could have played the savvy and charismatic mayor of New York as convincingly — and the ability to be both a saint and Satan is essential to the plot. Whether you figure it all out or not before the film let’s you in on it — and you might — it’s worth seeing if for no other reason than to be reminded how idealism is smashed in a sacrifice to the reality, perhaps necessity, of compromise. Someone once said that to fall in love with a politician is to have your heart broken.

LA Confidential (1997) has it all. It is based on James Ellroy’s book and has one of the best casts money can buy. Instead of 1990s New York, we visit 1950s L.A. The cast includes Kevin Spacey, Russell Crowe, Guy Pearce, Kim Bassinger, Danny DeVito, James Cromwell and David Stratham — all dealing with scandal, sleaze, crime and corruption. Much of the film’s action hovers around the needs of a magazine called Hush, Hush. I remember when I was twelve or thirteen. With some degree of embarrassment, I would go to the magazine section of the drug store and open up the pages of a sleazy scandal sheet called Confidential to see what lurid activities Hollywood stars were engaged in. Afterward, I’d feel I’d looked into a world I wasn’t supposed to see. I remember feeling a mix of excitement and disgust. That is pretty much what L.A. Confidential, nominated for nine Academy Awards, is about. It is also very much about L.A. In that sense, there might be a case for pairing Confidential with Chinatown. Not a bad idea, either, but it might be too much L.A. for one evening.

It’s whiskey on the rocks for the entire evening. No soda.

Film Pairing — Naked City, Sense of Time and Place

If you’re watching at home, whether or not what you see was made for the big screen or the little one doesn’t matter much. At least, that’s true for Naked City. Time is another matter. If you want to visit New York City and have a sense of what it was like in 1948, you’ll get the view of an award winning cinema-tographer’s black and white portrayal of the nation’s largest metropolis and one of the Naked City’s eight million stories. William H. Daniels won an Academy Award for this strange, fascinating murder mystery with a documentary feel. The city is the star, even during the obligatory chase scene that brings the movie to a close. The journeyman cast is headed by the scene stealing and delightful Irishman, Barry Fitzgerald.

Ten years later ABC had the bright idea — with a little tinkering — to do a network TV series on the same premise with the same characters, but different actors. A half-hour Naked City series, starring James Franciscus, premiered but failed to make it beyond the first season. As if to prove the good don’t die young after all, in 1960, Naked City was revived and expanded to 60 minutes. This new version, still using NYC as a main character and clearly the stylistic offspring of the original film, took advantage of an obvious resource — the talents of young New York actors. The episodes, at times heavy handed, but with great camera work, featured such future stars as Christopher Walken, Peter Falk, Robert Duvall, Robert Redford, Kim Hunter and Dustin Hoffman. Naked City holds up better than most of the network crime shows from that era.

Netflix also has the movie and a few discs featuring episodes from the hour-long series. They might be available elsewhere as well. This means you can do a little mixing and matching for an evening in vintage New York. Now, about what to drink. No debate here. Though some might consider it a little hoity toity, why not have Manhattans? Fashionable then. Hip now. Is “hip” hip?