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‘It: Chapter Two’ is Painfully Long yet Brimming with Ambition

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At 135 minutes, It: Chapter One covers only the childhood half of Stephen King’s magnum opus, saving the adult portion for the sequel, set twenty-seven years later. The decision to split the movie in two was a wise move on the part of the studio, as it gave the filmmakers more time to flesh out both the story and the large cast of characters. But with a nearly three-hour run time, It: Chapter Two is a full thirty-five minutes longer than Chapter One, begging the question: how much time did the filmmakers really need?

I hate to start on a negative note, but at a bloated 170 minutes, the length of Chapter Two becomes a major stumbling block that must be addressed. Where director Andy Muschietti’s vision for the first movie perfectly recaptures the novel’s supernatural terror and childhood bonding, It: Chapter Two moves fast — maybe too fast — and yet, it never quite captures the weight of its nearly three-hour runtime. You’d figure that an additional thirty-five minutes would give the storytellers more time to flesh out the characters, the relationships, the backstory, and the supernatural entity at the center of Derry, but instead, the film feels frustratingly thin — and, dare I say, self-indulgent. The final result is a mixed bag in which your patience is tested, your attention brought to bear, and your precious time demanded.

Still, there’s also a lot to love here.

The problem with flashbacks…

The narrative of It: Chapter Two is pretty-straightforward, and anyone who’s seen the first film, watched the original TV series, and/or has read the book knows what to expect. Minus a few key sequences, such as the controversial sewer orgy, Gary Dauberman’s script is mostly faithful to the heart of King’s story. When Pennywise the Clown (Bill Skarsgard) returns to picturesque Derry, the seven (well, really six) people who defeated him in 1989 must return to their hometown to defeat the horrible creature and bring his reign of terror, once and for all, to an end.

As the group reunites in Maine, the proceedings are padded by extended flashbacks as the now-adult members of the Losers Club struggle to rebuild the bonds they forged as children, as all but one (Mike) experiences temporary memory loss. It turns out that moving away from Maine has somehow made their memories foggy, and now it’s up to Mike to find a way to make them remember those horrific clown-related encounters that have vanished from their consciousness.

 
 

The film’s focus on these flashbacks sometimes works to its advantage, and sometimes to its detriment. The upside is that these dream sequences allow the charismatic and talented young actors who previously played the characters to return in It: Chapter Two, and as with the first film, some of the best parts of It: Chapter Two have nothing to do with the cackling manifestations of the murderous Pennywise, but rather with the camaraderie, bickering, and curiosity among these kids. The teenagers get a fair amount of screen time here, reminding us of the sparkling chemistry of the lively young cast. Unfortunately, the downside is that these endless flashbacks are the biggest culprit in stretching out the film’s running time; if you cut them out entirely, we would most likely be left with a two-hour movie.

When we bury our feelings, we bury who we are…

Where, It: Chapter One uses the fight against Pennywise as a metaphor for the characters facing their deepest fears as they enter adulthood, Chapter Two tackles themes of memory and childhood trauma, exploring the loss of innocence decades after our heroes faced off against the creepy, dancing clown with outsize yellow teeth, a high-pitched squeak of a voice, and a habit of eating kids. And like Chapter One, Chapter Two deals with grief, insecurities, trauma, and guilt. These characters may be older, but they continue to be haunted by their own personal demons, and they have ways to go before they can ever heal.

James McAvoy plays Bill Denbrough, now a best-selling mystery novelist who married a movie star (Jess Weixler), but is still not over the death of his little brother, Georgie. Beverly Marsh (Jessica Chastain) is a successful fashion designer trapped in an abusive marriage. Jay Ryan is the once-bullied, overweight Ben, who’s currently an architect and looks hotter than “a team of Brazilian soccer players,” but never quite got over his childhood crush, and still carries around Beverly’s signature from a page in his yearbook. James Ransone is the hypochondriac Eddie, who grew up to be a terrifyingly high-strung adult. Bill Hader is the foul-mouthed smart-aleck Richie Tozier, a now-famous standup comedian who doesn’t write his own material. Andy Bean stars as Stanley, still the weakest of the bunch and still trying to get his life in order, and last but not least, Isaiah Mustafa stars as Mike Hanlon, the only member of the Losers Club who remained in Derry. He’s the town librarian, and the only one who clearly remembers Pennywise. They’ve grown into restless adults, each of them scarred by the events of their past, and now the seven (really six) must search out and destroy It. And the only way they can defeat the clown is if they work together.

James McAvoy’s Bill might be the story’s beating heart, but Chapter Two really belongs to Ritchie. Hader’s spin on Richie is easily the film’s standout, since no other actor better matches their younger counterpart than him. He pretty much nails every line of dialogue, and the subtle subplot about his secret desires carries more emotional weight than expected. Meanwhile, Mustafa (best known as the Old Spice guy) has an impressive breakout as Mike, while Teach Grant’s offbeat turn as Henry Bowers (an escapee from a psychiatric ward) brings equal scares and laughs. The rest of the cast is fine, although the adult group doesn’t demonstrate the same level chemistry as their younger selves, as we’re reminded by the narrative lift we feel each time we are shown a flashback.

Here comes the horror…

Regardless of how you feel about the near-three-hour running time, the good news is that It: Chapter Two packs enough suspense and genuine scares to satisfy even the biggest horror hounds. It really is at times terrifying, and features three if not four scenes that are as good as the astonishing visual centerpiece of the first film. For a movie classified as ‘horror,’ It: Chapter Two features some thrilling setpieces punctuated by each of the character’s deepest and darkest fears, including a claustrophobic encounter in a mirrored funhouse, an even more catastrophic sequence that jumps between a shocking hallucination that sees Jessica Chastain drenched in more blood than Johnny Depp in A Nightmare On Elm Street, and a scene in which Jay Ryan sinks deep into the earth.

Another highlight comes when Chastain’s Beverly visits her childhood home looking to reunite with her father, only to be greeted by an elderly woman named Mrs. Kersh (Joan Gregson) who insists she come in for tea. As Beverly awkwardly tries to stir up a conversation, Mrs. Kersh becomes momentarily paralyzed. The expression on her face here is far more frightening than what comes next. Meanwhile, a reunion at an Asian restaurant is one of the movie’s best scenes, showcasing Hader’s comedic flair and introducing the first of many digitally enhanced effects used to realize Pennywise’s grotesque transformations, including a later nod to John Carpenter’s The Thing. It’s here that the grown-up Losers are quickly reminded of the terrifying shape-shifting abilities of Pennywise the clown. It’s stuff like this that makes It: Chapter Two well worth seeing.

Make no mistake, Chapter Two does earn its R rating, and like the first film, the greatest asset is still Bill Skarsgård as the sadistic, child-chomping, demonic clown. There really is something special about watching him twitch, crawl, shriek, and work his way into the minds of the children of Derry. Amidst the movie’s many monstrosities, the shapeshifter is by far the most menacing, best exemplified in one single shot where he appears out of disguise as a man simply covering his face in clown paint. It’s all good stuff thanks to the first-rate special effects, gross-out visuals, and Checco Varese’s gorgeous and dreamy cinematography, which conveys a sense of danger even in the bright daylight.

About that cold opening…

The first horror we witness in this second installment, however, is oddly the most terrifying — and also the most troublesome µ scene of Chapter Two. The scene in question details a grotesque act of homophobic violence against a gay couple (played by Taylor Frey and Canadian director Xavier Dolan) that transitions to the first appearance of the now-iconic red balloon and the words “Come Home” scrawled in blood under the bridge before Pennywise himself appears. What this has to do with the main story is unclear, except to maybe serve as a reminder that Pennywise isn’t the only monster residing in Derry. But while the hate crime is true to the book and based on the real-life 1984 drowning of Charlie Howard, the scene is confusing in this context, and feels tonally out of place with the rest of the film, as the filmmakers never bother to revisit neither the scene nor the characters to give it any sort of closure.

But it’s not just the cold opening that feels disjointed and tonally out of place — the ending does as well. 170 minutes is plenty of time to build to a satisfying climax, but It: Chapter Two concludes the nearly six-hour, two-movie saga without much in the way of surprises. Worse is that screenwriter Gary Dauberman beats you over the head with meta-joke after meta-joke about how Stephen King never quite knows how to nail an ending, and in case you missed it, King even pops up just to reinforce this fact, which only further reinforces just how disappointing the climax really is.

The film needs a better ending…

For better or for worse, It stands out as one of the rare films that have attempted to remain as true as possible to the source material. However, I can’t help but think Andy Muschietti had a chance to trim some fat, not feel the need to resolve every subplot, nor cram in another anti-climactic, big-budget action-movie spectacle which not only sucks the life and imagination out of the film, but isn’t the slightest bit scary. There’s a lot to like here, as It: Chapter Two oozes with spectacular scenery, stupefying effects, an epic score, and plenty of nerve-jangling scenes that will have viewers shrieking, but Chapter Two is also painfully long, and could use a better ending. In between the odd prologue and the disappointing climax is roughly two hours of well-crafted filmmaking and fifty minutes of excess.

  • Ricky D

Some people take my heart, others take my shoes, and some take me home. I write, I blog, I podcast, I edit, and I design websites. Founder and Editor-in-Chief of Goomba Stomp and the NXpress Nintendo Podcast. Former Editor-In-Chief of Sound On Sight, and host of several podcasts including the Game of Thrones and Walking Dead podcasts, as well as the Sound On Sight and Sordid Cinema shows. There is nothing I like more than basketball, travelling, and animals. You can find me online writing about anime, TV, movies, games and so much more.

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  1. Mike Worby

    September 27, 2019 at 11:57 pm

    I honestly wish I’d skipped the film. What a waste. Unbelievably bad. I could legit list 20-30 things I didn’t like about it.

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‘Weathering With You’ Isn’t Quite the Storm It Wanted to Be

Makoto Shinkai’s Weathering With You delivers a gorgeous film that doesn’t quite resonate as much as it wanted to.

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Weathering With You Hina

Climate change and global warming have been topics of concern and discussion for years now, with melting ice caps and rising ocean temperatures being some of many signs. Director Makoto Shinkai — acclaimed the world over for his 2016 work Your Name — aims to show just how at the mercy humans are to the weather with his newest animated film, Weathering With You. Although he presents a visually stunning depiction of Mother Nature in all her various moods, Weathering With You ultimately lacks the storming power it seeks to bear upon its audience.

Tokyo has been having a particularly rainy year, seeing precipitation almost every day and nary a sight of the sun or clear blue skies. It’s during this unusual time that high school boy Hodaka arrives in the metropolis seeking escape from the suffocating life he had on his island. The young teenager naturally has trouble finding his bearings on his own in the oftentimes unforgiving hustle and bustle of the city. It’s in these early scenes that Weathering With You has some of its strongest moments, depicting the uglier side of Japanese society not often seen in anime, while also highlighting Hodaka’s strength of character to make it on his own. 

Weathering With You Hodaka and Hina

As Hodaka gradually carves out his own place in the city, he eventually has an encounter with a young girl named Hina. Matching her sunny and cheerful disposition, Hina has the ability to make it stop raining and have the sunshine in very localized spots by praying to the sky. In a place where the rain never ceases, it’s easy to see why Hodaka latches onto Hina to use for the greater good (while also making a little pocket change along the way).

“The hand-drawn rain is downright mesmerizing in all its forms — fierce and calm — while the sunshine that follows seems to hang in the air caught by the leftover humidity.”

Gloomy skies and damp grounds can take their toll on one’s mood and psyche, which someone who lives in such a climate can surely relate to. Even the briefest moments of sunshine revitalize us and give a glimpse of the “light at the end of the tunnel.” Hodaka and Hina’s “100% Sunshine Girl” services to those in need of that light boldly underscore that fact, and make for a strong argument for how the weather affects us all beyond its objective physicality, along with providing some much-appreciated levity to the story. 

That power of weather is beautifully illustrated by CoMix Wave Films’ stupendous animation efforts. The hand-drawn rain is downright mesmerizing in all its forms — fierce and calm — while the sunshine that follows seems to hang in the air, caught by the leftover humidity. Tokyo itself isn’t to be outdone either, with its streets running the gamut between peaceful neighborhoods to grimy and dark back alleys with dilapidated buildings. The animation is punctuated by the return of Japanese band RADWIMPS, who create numerous memorable tracks to complement the wild swings in mood that weather can elicit.

That makes it all the more unfortunate, however, that the greater narrative is so weak.

The progression of Weathering With You is made painfully obvious right from the outset of the story — so much so that it’s hard to wonder if it’s actually the set-up for a bait-and-switch. As a result, much of the first half of the film is simply waiting for the other shoe to drop, making it difficult to really settle in and become intimate with its characters. 

Weathering With you Hodaka and Hina

This would be less of an issue if the cast had smaller interactions that were a delight to watch, but they fall short in that regard as well. All of the characters have a charm to them for sure — with Hina’s younger elementary school brother, Nagi, putting modern playboys to shame being a particular standout — but the story never quite makes a compelling case as to why they are as close as they are, especially Hina and Hodaka. They’re fun enough to watch be together, but don’t quite make that emotional attachment with the viewer that the story wants to create.

That lack of an emotional connection is distinctly felt in Weathering With You’s second act, when unnecessary confrontations and bizarre plot directions converge to create an artificial sense of stakes amidst a central conflict that would have been fine on its own. What’s meant to strengthen the impression of the characters’ bonds instead cheapens it, undermining the already faulty progress the first half did make. The result is a narrative that’s hard to care about, although its ending does leave the viewer with some potentially interesting questions to ponder.

Weathering With You is far from a bad movie, however. It has a clear direction and vision with a message to say about our climate crisis. The characters are endearing enough, and there are a handful of heartfelt scenes because of that. It also cannot be understated just how drop-dead gorgeous the animation is. The story, however, is simply too straightforward for its own good, resulting in an experience that is at times enjoyable, and at others plain boring.

And that’s only when being judged in a vacuum on the movie’s own merits. When compared to Shinkai’s recent masterpiece that is Your Name, it’s hard to see Weathering With You as anything but a disappointing follow-up. That’s perhaps the film’s greatest weakness, but fortunately, it’s one that Shinkai’s next work won’t have, and we can still look forward to it because of that fact.

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Let’s Remember Why ‘Tremors’ is a Beloved Cult Hit

The monster movie that breaks new ground.

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Tremors Movie Review

Tremors, 30 Years Later

Thirty years ago, this week, one of the best films of 1990 was released.

Tremors didn’t make a big splash in theaters. The film ended up grossing $16,667,084 at the domestic box office, which while making a profit due to its $11 million budget, was still below projected numbers. To be fair, this was a film about carnivorous subterranean worms— and it didn’t help that it was dumped in the cold of winter during what is arguably the slowest time of the year for the box office. Thankfully, however, Tremors found a second life on VHS where it became one of home video’s biggest success stories. More importantly, Tremors become a beloved cult hit.

The Script

Much has been said about the cast of Tremors which I’ll get to shortly, but what stood out the most watching it again, is the screenplay from S.S. Wilson and Brent Maddock, who both previously penned Short Circuit and Batteries Not Included. Sure, Tremors is a B movie, but it also boasts a tightly-knit script in which every scene; every action; every story beat; and every line of dialogue sets up a chain of events that gives every character a motive and reason to react the way they do. And despite one poorly executed sequence (I’m referring to the pole-vaulting montage), Tremors is a lean, mean movie without an ounce of fat to be found anywhere else.

Tremors Pole Vaulting Scene

The plot isn’t complex per se, but there’s something oddly comforting in the simplicity of it all. Tremors takes place in the Nevada desert near a small town called Perfection with a population of only 14 residents who are left to defend themselves against the deadly subterranean creatures. It’s the perfect setting for a monster film since the town itself is isolated. And with only one road leading to civilization, the openness of the desert landscape enhances the desolation of it all. And since the town of Perfection is so far removed from the rest of society, it soon becomes clear that nobody will ever come and save them. Instead, the townsfolk must work together; overcome the odds, and destroy the creatures. And when that fails, they must attempt to scale the rocky mountaintop where the worms are unable to travel underground. It’s getting there that becomes the problem.

Val and Earl - Tremors

Val and Earl

At the heart, and at the center of the eccentric cast of characters is Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward playing Valentine McKee and Earl Bass, a pair of modern-day cowboys working as handymen who become would-be heroes when they stumble upon the shock-sensitive killer worms. Over the years, the two actors have become less renowned for their comedic roles, but Tremors if anything, showcases their talent and range. And while Kevin Bacon with his sexy smile and pretty boy looks is by far the biggest star; it’s their irresistible chemistry that brings their characters to life. They make such a great comedic team and if you replaced Ward with any other actor at the time, there’s no guarantee that Tremors would have been this much fun to watch.

In fact, the two actors work so well together that Fred Ward provides a much better foil for Kevin Bacon than Finn Carter’s Rhonda, a.k.a. the underwritten love interest who is assigned to travel to the town and monitor the seismology readings in the desert. Not long after Rhonda arrives, the people in the town start disappearing – or worse, they end up dead, leaving very little time to establish any chemistry between her and Val— thus making the big kiss, in the end, feel a little out-of-place. But don’t blame the screenplay writers— the original ending of Tremors featured Val and Earl riding off into the sunset, with no hint at any potential romance between Val and Rhonda. Unfortunately, test audiences were not pleased and somehow the producers convinced the filmmakers to quickly reshoot the final scene— just another one of many examples of why studios should not rely on any focus group to provide feedback. In the end, the love interest feels somewhat lost in the shuffle.

Tremors Kevin Bacon and Finn Carter

The Gummer Family

It doesn’t take long before it becomes apparent that there’s something unnatural roaming the desert and feeding on human flesh. Once Rhonda checks her readings and determines that the threat is coming from underground, Tremors begins to slowly open up and introduce us to the supporting cast which includes Reba McEntire and Michael Gross as the Gummer family, a pair of overzealous, gun-crazy survivalists. McEntire and Gross are so good here, they essentially steal the spotlight from the rest of the cast. In one of their most memorable scenes, the two are forced to take shelter in their basement and defend themselves against one of the giant man-eating worms— and just when it looks like they are going to run out of ammunition, the camera pans left to reveal the bunker holds enough guns and firepower to accommodate a small army. It’s just one of many examples of how Tremors takes a simple concept and maximizes it for full effect.

As much as Tremors is remembered today for the performances of Bacon and Ward, it’s the work of the entire cast that brings the movie to life. It really is great casting considering the small budget, and everyone pulls their weight, serving up the quick-witted dialogue in a way that makes it all feel more natural– and yes that even includes Robert Jayne as the annoying teenage brat, Melvin Plug. I especially like the performance by Victor Wong, a character actor who had roles in films like 3 Ninjas and Big Trouble in Little China. Here he plays the ill-fated Walter Chang who is killed in a scene that features some of the film’s best special effects.

Director Ron Underwood

Tremors was the first movie Ron Underwood directed and by far his best. Now known as a go-to director for many successful TV shows, Underwood keeps things moving briskly and finds new clever ways to draw out tension with impressive camera work, especially the shots that show the point of view of the creatures as they stalk their victims. Along with Cinematographer Alexander Gruszynski, Underwood frames his exterior shots in a way that constantly reminds viewers how small the town is and how isolated it is. It’s also worth noting how difficult it is to shoot a horror movie outside in the middle of the desert where you can never truly escape the sunlight, and yet director Ron Underwood uses the setting to his advantage and frames his actors in such a manner that the landscape emits a general feeling of emptiness, which both mirrors the town’s small population and the people themselves who are desperate for a change.

Tremors evokes the populist spirit of ‘50s and ’60s B-movies without ever resorting to parody, nor does it ever feel familiar. Instead, Underwood reinvigorates its genre tropes with a finely balanced combination of horror and humor— and despite its tongue-in-cheek script, Underwood never allows it to venture into full-on camp. There is tension and suspense in every one of the action scenes and like many classics that came before it, Tremors focuses less on its oversized monsters and more on their victims and how these people react to attacks by these giant creatures. Even in the bright daylight, Tremors manages to create enough suspense to keep viewers at the edge of their seats.

Tremors 1990

Creature Design

Apart from taking inspiration from classic monster movies, Tremors owes a lot to Steven Spielberg’s Jaws— so much so, that the original title for Tremors was actually Land Sharks. Much like how the shark in Jaws travels underwater while stalking its prey, in Tremors, the 30-foot-long carnivorous worms known as Graboids, travel underground. And like Jaws (arguably the quintessential B movie), the creatures in Tremors are rarely seen. Instead, the largely invisible creatures can burrow fast enough to devour the entire town if given the opportunity— making them deadly and genuinely menacing.

Another clever inclusion by the screenplay writers was the idea to have these Graboids respond to seismic vibrations. While blind and unable to track their prey’s scent, they do have acute hearing, which means any slight movement or sound can cost you your life. In arguably the best scene of the entire film, Kevin Bacon’s Val is left to stand completely still and silent while the worm-like creatures who circle his feet reveal their razor-sharp fangs as they desperately search for their next victim.

Tremors 1990 Michael Gross

It’s a credit to the creature design that I never once questioned the reality of the Graboids. Along with a team of over 50 visual effects wizards, the filmmakers were able to bring their creations to life with a mix of old school prosthetics, animatronics, and computer-generated imagery. Tremors may be at times funny, but this isn’t the sort of film that has viewers pointing at the screen and laughing at obviously cheesy effects. Make no mistake about it: the monster effects by Tom Woodruff and Alec Gillis (who previously worked on Alien and The Terminator) is truly impressive, especially given the limited budget they had to work with.

Tremors Creature Design

Soundtrack

The one and only aspect of Tremors that I’ve never liked was the music heard at the start and at the end of the film. To my surprise, I later learned that composer Ernest Troaost’s musical score for the film went mostly unused since the studio didn’t like it and, later they hired composer Robert Folk to write a new score. Only a few of Troost’s country-themed songs made it into the final cut and sure enough, they are the songs I dislike. That said, Folk’s compositions perfectly match the visuals and heighten the suspense during the film’s most action-packed scenes.

Tremors 1990

Legacy

Tremors wasn’t in any way groundbreaking since it borrowed liberally from many other monster movies, yet somehow the film became such a hit, that it spawned four direct-to-video sequels (Tremors 2: Aftershocks, Tremors 3: Back to Perfection, Tremors 5: Bloodlines and Tremors: A Cold Day in Hell)— a direct-to-video prequel (Tremors 4: The Legend Begins), and even a television series. More so, the success of Tremors resulted in many copycats but none of them (save for James Gunn’s Slither) have been able to perfectly match the potent mixture of sharp dialogue, deadpan humour, and horror.

It’s easy to see why Tremors ultimately became a success and why it remains a fun and engaging experience, decades later. The plot is fully realized constantly keeping things exciting. It has plenty of spectacular set-pieces, thrilling action scenes, and plenty of quotable throwaway dialogue. Along with the charismatic cast, superb direction, great script and terrifyingly real effects, Tremors stands the test of time. Many have tried to match Tremors but most have ultimately come up short. Movies like this come around once every few years.

  • Ricky D
Tremors Movie Anniversary
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The Career of Tony Scott and His Influence on the Film Industry

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The Career of Tony Scott

In the late 1970s and 1980s, composer Giorgio Moroder was often accused of trying to replace the orchestral movie soundtrack with high-energy, synthesizer-heavy disco-pop laid on with a trowel in movies like Thank God It’s Friday (1978), Flashdance (1983), Scarface (1983), and Top Gun (1986). I remember a magazine story on Moroder which quoted one of his many critics as saying, “The day the music died, Giorgio Moroder was brought in for questioning.”

I think some people had the same opinion about movies and Tony Scott. Full disclosure: I’m one of them. But it would be greatly unfair to Scott, who died in 2012, not to admit that, for good or for ill, his 1980s feature work had an enormous impact on commercial filmmaking.

The younger brother of Ridley Scott by seven years, he was gifted – like his brother – with an outrageously good eye; a taste for the visual strong enough to earn him his master’s degree from London’s Royal College of Art (which he’d attended on scholarship no less). But painting didn’t pay well, so he joined with his brother in Ridley Scott Associates where, from the 1970s into the 1980s, he applied that eye to moving pictures, directing thousands of commercials, some of them still-talked-about all-time classics in the U.K.

His first feature was the visually sumptuous, dramatically wispy attempt at erotic vampirica, The Hunger (1983), and it was such a lambasted flop it’s a surprise Scott’s feature career didn’t end right there. But three years later, producer Jerry Bruckheimer tapped him to direct Top Gun and movies would never be the same.

It was a perfect marriage of sensibilities (along with Michael Bay, Scott would remain one of Bruckheimer’s go-to directors). Bruckheimer, whose youthful interest in photography had led him to his own career in commercials before turning to movies, had the same affinity for striking imagery as Scott.

The timing of the union was just right, too. MTV was only five years old, and the non-stop near-abstract visuals of music video were not only still hypnotically novel, but on their way to becoming the defining visual sensibility for a new movie-going generation. With Giorgio Moroder (another ideal wedding of sensibilities) supplying a Pop’s Top Ten-nish soundtrack, Scott put together montages that were, essentially, music videos woven into the narrative of the film (some critics carped that the whole movie was little more than an extended music video).

Top Gun 1986

Striking visuals, a pulsing, toe-tapping score, and a super-patriotic story that made a hero of a young, cocky, mouthy, go-my-own-way fighter jock made for a flick which hit a big, fat sweet spot with MTV’s first generation of ticket-buyers: Top Gun scored a whopping $176.7 million domestic. I did the math: at today’s ticket prices, that would translate to almost $390 million. Love it or hate it, you have to respect that kind of box office muscle.

Top Gun set the template for Scott: high-octane visuals, rapid-fire editing (often at the hands of Chris Lebenzon), an MTV-friendly soundtrack, and a story simple enough to absorb without having to pay too much attention.

It also set the template for so many of the box office winners of the next few decades, movies that moved fast, piled on the action, featured characters who were often little more than catchphrases with biceps, offered music video fodder (at least back when MTV still played music videos), and where plausibility – even under Hollywood’s extremely elastic definition of the concept – was irrelevant. Think Lethal Weapon, Speed (1994), Twister (1996), and anything by Michael Bay.

The Career of Tony Scott

Though his brother Ridley often took the same rap of favoring looks over substance, their styles, though both highly visual, were strikingly different.

Ridley’s films — good and bad – play out like classical music: stately, elegant, unrushed, somber.

Tony’s movies are rock ‘n’ roll: fast, loud, exhausting, sometimes painfully bright.

It’s hard to imagine Tony doing something as subdued as Ridley’s Napoleonic-era The Duelists (1977), or even pulling off the brooding sci-fi Gothicism of Alien (1979). By the same token, Ridley would have seemed a poor fit for Top Gun or all the running back and forth in Crimson Tide (1995).

Despite being regularly slammed for his storytelling, Scott did care about plot and character. Explaining the failure of Days of Thunder (1990) – Top Gun cloned to the NASCAR circuit – Scott diagnosed the problem as having started production without a finished script. “(You) always have to get a story,” he said, “and you’ve got to get character first…”

Tony Scott's Days of Thunder

But it wasn’t a sentiment that quite squared with his execution. In an Entertainment Weekly story about a trending flimsiness in big-screen storytelling, The Fan (1996) screenwriter Phoef Sutton told the story of shooting the movie’s climactic baseball game in a torrential downpour. Sutton and others tried to argue Scott out of it pointing out that baseball games are called on account of such weather. The rain stayed. Said Sutton: “…I don’t think Tony cared about the plausibility of it.”

In his later years, he seemed to be trying to reach for the kind of substance his early films were often accused of lacking, but he remained better at taking a good picture than giving it meaning. Enemy of the State (1998) was entertaining enough, but it was like Coppola’s The Conversation (1974) with the poetry removed and replaced with explosions and chases; Spy Game (2001) was an anemic John LeCarre wannabe; The Taking of Pelham 123 replaced the local color which had made the original so memorable with a needlessly busy yet flavorless plot.

Like his brother, Tony also produced, and in those projects, one could sense an ambition to do something of substance. There were such laudable efforts as the HBO movie RKO 281 (1999) about Orson Welles’ fight to make Citizen Kane; The Gathering Storm (2002), another HBO feature, this about Churchill’s attempts to prep England for WW II; Gettysburg (2001), a cable documentary about one of the most pivotal battles of the Civil War; and the lovely, elegiac (if sadly little-seen) Western, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.

Though Scott would continue to turn out some respectable earners in his later years (Déjà vu [2006], The Taking of Pelham 123, Unstoppable [2010]), after the 1980s, he’d never hit Top Gun heights again, and, in fact, after Beverly Hills Cop II (1987) only ever crossed the $100 million domestic mark one more time with Enemy of the State (1998). Perhaps the problem was that Scott’s eye-tickling rat-a-tat-tat style had, by the 1990s, become so widely copied that his often dramatically weak films had little else to offer; the trendsetter had become just another member of the pack.

But give him this. Few filmmakers make a lasting impact. Most directors and most films come and go, cinematic mayflies fluttering around the box office for a few weeks before disappearing. The same can’t be said of Tony Scott. Love ‘im or hate ‘im, it’ll be a long time before anyone forgets him.

– Bill Mesce

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