Considering the fact that every third film today is a re-make or, more pretentiously, a re-imagination of an earlier success, it’s always galling to hear filmmakers giving the hard sell on why it’s so vitally necessary to re-do what’s been already been done; why in many ways, Freddie Krueger’s story is even more relevant today than it was in 1984, or why this generation must have a DEATH RACE to call its own… Of course, the only real reason to re-make, or re-imagine a film is to appeal to its “built-in” audience – and make bank. Any filmmaker who claims otherwise is full of what they’re peddling.
And then there is THE BAD LIEUTENANT: PORT OF CALL NEW ORLEANS, a film being discussed with refreshing honesty by both its director Werner Herzog, and the director of the first film to bear the BAD LIEUTENANT title, Abel Ferrara. And when I say ‘refreshing,’ I mean that Ferrara has been quoted as saying that that all those involved in remaking his film “should all die in hell.” (An actual quote – and it’s worth noting that Ferrara’s follow-up to his own LIEUTENANT was BODY SNATCHERS, a re-imagining of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS.) Herzog, for his part, claims never to have seen Ferrara’s 1992 film, and has freely admitted that the BAD LIEUTENANT title was added to his project to secure financing. There’s the movies for you, kids: an original story, even one with a great director and bonafide Disney movie star, requires association with a pre-existing title to get made. But in what could be considered a Hollywood judo move, Herzog has put together a unique, even bold crime film, by taking on the name of another. It’s in this subversive spirit that BL:POCNO (such a fun acronym) seems to have been produced, and that, fortunately, translates into a viewing experience full of freaky pleasures.
In one of his two greatest and least-unbearable performances of the ’00’s, Academy Award Winner and Japanese commercial pitchman Nicolas Cage plays Lieutenant Terence McDonagh, who, at film’s open, appeals to his better angels and rescues an inmate from a flooding prison cell during Hurricane Katrina. In saving the con, Terence injures his back, and is prescribed some serious painkillers. Before long, these are supplemented with every other type of narcotic imaginable – and Terence is in deep with all the bad elements of the Crescent City. What follows is a surprisingly tight, and altogether surprising noir, in which Terence juggles gambling debt, drug addiction, a hooker girlfriend with a heart of gold, and an assortment of well-cast ne’er-do-well’s. It’s a highly-entertaining depiction of a man mentally and emotionally spiraling out of control, and like all real noir, it’s not on a moral bent against either its pro- or antagonists. Herzog certainly doesn’t present a sinner just to tear him down; there’s too much to explore in the symptoms of moral and mental descent.
If Cage is to be the modern Klaus Kinski, Herzog’s new and wild American muse – all I can say is bring it. Bring that shit on, Werner. Director and actor here make a perfect fit, Herzog the great documentarian of madness, and Cage, who does crazy in a way all his own. Cage’s style pushes so far in one direction of artifice, from PEGGY SUE to CON AIR, he almost dares you to accept him in a role, and to enjoy him faking it, as he clearly does. When Cage is bad, as well as when he’s good, he goes for broke, and in BL:POCNO, he goes so broke, he’d better be lining up some of those bonkers Japanese commercials, and fast. In one scene, before a pair of old ladies, Cage waves a .45 Magnum and screams, unprovoked, “I hate you! You’re why this country’s going down the shithole!” If this doesn’t make you laugh, you haven’t accepted the dare of Cage and of this film. And I feel so very sad for you.
Herzog himself colors in the margins of a smart, if somewhat straight screenplay with bizarrerie that improves the pace in the film’s midsection. Between the appearance of drug-induced iguanas, (with shaky, patent-pending Iguana-Cam,) and a metaphysical break-dancing ho-down that begs to be watched on repeat, it’s hard not to get a thrill from the genuine weirdness Herzog injects into what would appear by its title to be another unnecessary remake. He manages to make a strong case not only for his own remake’s existence, but even a case, in some cases, for remakes.
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THE BAD LIEUTENANT: PORT OF CALL NEW ORLEANS
Mann’s Chinese Six, Hollywood
Sunday, November 29, 4:10pm showing