Michael Ritchie's lurid--maybe vile is the better choice--gangster against gangster flick, Prime Cut is beyond description because, 30+ years after seeing it, I still don't know what kind of movie it was trying to be.
Let's see. We have a grizzled he-man, gentleman hit-man in Lee Marvin, a rapist-pillager with a woman's name in Gene Hackman, a Hackman brother who reminded me of the goons in the old Popeye cartoons, and a young woman who is so surreal in her beauty (Sissy Spacek) that there is no way she could have been brought up in an orphanage specifically to be sold as a sex slave.
There's meat-packing, milk-tasting, white-slaving, and the Cadillac Fleetwood getting eaten by a thresher. Don't forget the Irish mobsters, all loyalty and mother's love, Hackman sneering at Chicago being a rotten old sow looking for fresh cream (I kid you not), and that dinner with Marvin's Nick Devlin and Poppy (Spacek).
I might get an argument from some about the natural loveliness of a young Spacek. Those eyes could just burn holes through you. I don't know her life story, but I'm wondering if she, as a kid, would turn that look on, and she would get whatever she wanted.
In Prime Cut, for some reason, Ritchie puts Spacek--who knows nothing about proper, adult manners in a restaurant, or propriety in clothing choices, for that matter--in a nice, at-the-top-of-a-hotel eatery across from Marvin. He shows her which utensils to use and when. He gives her fatherly smiles of calming encouragement. He gives an I'm-going-to-kill-you look to a middle-aged man who is staring at Spacek. Her gown is see-through.
Now, don't get me wrong. For years this has been my favorite part of Prime Cut, the care and feeding of the iguana residing inside my old brain. But the more I think about it, using my upper primate- hairless ape brain, the more appalled I am at this scene.
Spacek is a victim of sexual slavery. She has been purchased by Marvin to save her. He dresses her, feeds her, reassures her, then parades her into a restaurant wearing something that covers only her lap. Marvin doesn't rape Spacek, but it's that feeling that he's showing off a fresh piece of meat to the world, that he has power and authority. Kind of like a "benign dictator."
If you can get your iguana to settle down, you may find that the restaurant scene ruins the movie.
I've found myself hating Prime Cut because of its almost- pornographic attention to throwing in anything and everything amoral just to get a rise out of the audience.
But Prime Cut is almost a traffic-accident in its ability to draw your attention. It's the rescue aspect of the story, mixed in with the good-bad guys sent to discipline the bad-bad guys tension, the weird names for Hackman and Gregory Walcott, the evil lure of seeing all those drugged, naked girls for sale in pens, Lee Marvin sent to do a job for Eddie Egan wearing white bucks, the way you'll never really feel comfortable eating wieners again, Spacek's innocent appreciation of Marvin's benevolence while you and the guy at the next table are staring at her nipples, the shooting of the fat guy in the combine, the masticulation of the Caddy, and that moment when I knew Prime Cut was beyond classification, when Marvin looks down in disgust at Hackman's plate at the girl sale.
He states/asks/accuses, "You eat guts."
I have weird dreams on a regular basis, nothing bad, just weird. I wake up rested but feeling a little disjointed, and sometimes the dreams are so vivid, it takes a moment for me to return to reality.
Prime Cut is like one of my dreams, only I have to go searching for it (on average, once every two to three years) instead of it coming to me.
And, as far as Sissy Spacek's nipples are concerned, why do you think I sleep on my side instead of on my back?
Let's see. We have a grizzled he-man, gentleman hit-man in Lee Marvin, a rapist-pillager with a woman's name in Gene Hackman, a Hackman brother who reminded me of the goons in the old Popeye cartoons, and a young woman who is so surreal in her beauty (Sissy Spacek) that there is no way she could have been brought up in an orphanage specifically to be sold as a sex slave.
There's meat-packing, milk-tasting, white-slaving, and the Cadillac Fleetwood getting eaten by a thresher. Don't forget the Irish mobsters, all loyalty and mother's love, Hackman sneering at Chicago being a rotten old sow looking for fresh cream (I kid you not), and that dinner with Marvin's Nick Devlin and Poppy (Spacek).
I might get an argument from some about the natural loveliness of a young Spacek. Those eyes could just burn holes through you. I don't know her life story, but I'm wondering if she, as a kid, would turn that look on, and she would get whatever she wanted.
In Prime Cut, for some reason, Ritchie puts Spacek--who knows nothing about proper, adult manners in a restaurant, or propriety in clothing choices, for that matter--in a nice, at-the-top-of-a-hotel eatery across from Marvin. He shows her which utensils to use and when. He gives her fatherly smiles of calming encouragement. He gives an I'm-going-to-kill-you look to a middle-aged man who is staring at Spacek. Her gown is see-through.
Now, don't get me wrong. For years this has been my favorite part of Prime Cut, the care and feeding of the iguana residing inside my old brain. But the more I think about it, using my upper primate- hairless ape brain, the more appalled I am at this scene.
Spacek is a victim of sexual slavery. She has been purchased by Marvin to save her. He dresses her, feeds her, reassures her, then parades her into a restaurant wearing something that covers only her lap. Marvin doesn't rape Spacek, but it's that feeling that he's showing off a fresh piece of meat to the world, that he has power and authority. Kind of like a "benign dictator."
If you can get your iguana to settle down, you may find that the restaurant scene ruins the movie.
I've found myself hating Prime Cut because of its almost- pornographic attention to throwing in anything and everything amoral just to get a rise out of the audience.
But Prime Cut is almost a traffic-accident in its ability to draw your attention. It's the rescue aspect of the story, mixed in with the good-bad guys sent to discipline the bad-bad guys tension, the weird names for Hackman and Gregory Walcott, the evil lure of seeing all those drugged, naked girls for sale in pens, Lee Marvin sent to do a job for Eddie Egan wearing white bucks, the way you'll never really feel comfortable eating wieners again, Spacek's innocent appreciation of Marvin's benevolence while you and the guy at the next table are staring at her nipples, the shooting of the fat guy in the combine, the masticulation of the Caddy, and that moment when I knew Prime Cut was beyond classification, when Marvin looks down in disgust at Hackman's plate at the girl sale.
He states/asks/accuses, "You eat guts."
I have weird dreams on a regular basis, nothing bad, just weird. I wake up rested but feeling a little disjointed, and sometimes the dreams are so vivid, it takes a moment for me to return to reality.
Prime Cut is like one of my dreams, only I have to go searching for it (on average, once every two to three years) instead of it coming to me.
And, as far as Sissy Spacek's nipples are concerned, why do you think I sleep on my side instead of on my back?