Showing posts with label Griffin Dunne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Griffin Dunne. Show all posts

Friday, December 5, 2025

Caught Stealing: A third base hit

Caught Stealing (2025) • View trailer
3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong violence, pervasive profanity, sexuality, nudity and drug use
Available via: Netflix
By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.7.25

You’ll never see a better cautionary tale, concerning the wisdom of seat belts.

 

Charlie Huston’s 2004 crime novel is a slight change of pace for director Darren Aronofsky, whose best-known films — Requiem for a Dream, The Wrestler, Black Swan and The Whale — haven’t the slightest trace of humor. But Huston’s scripted adaptation of his book is laden with moments of dark-dark-dark gallows humor, of the sort that makes one feel guilty for each chuckle (not that it’ll suppress the next unexpected giggle).

 

The enemy of my enemy is my friend? When Hank (Austin Butler, center) becomes
sufficiently desperate, he forms an uneasy alliance with Lipa (Liev Schreiber, left)
and Shmully (Vincent D'Onofrio).


That said, this saga involves one Awful Event so beyond the pale, so needlessly mean-spirited, that viewers will be hard-pressed to forgive Huston and Aronofsky.

 

The year is 1998, the setting New York City’s Lower East Side: a time when this neighborhood is at low ebb, with sidewalks and streets strewn with uncollected garbage. Henry “Hank” Thompson (Austin Butler) tends bar at a sorta-kinda dive run by Paul (Griffin Dunne). Amtrak (Action Bronson), a steady customer, constantly ribs Hank about his devotion to the San Francisco Giants. Indeed, Hank calls his mother every day — she lives in Patterson, California — to commiserate or cheer about their mutual passion for the baseball team.

 

Hank has a steady girlfriend, Yvonne (Zoë Kravitz), who works at a nearby hospital.

 

But Hank is damaged goods. He suffers nightmare flashbacks of the vehicular accident, at the tail end of high school, which wrecked his knee, blew his chance at a promising baseball career, and killed his best friend. Hank was entirely at fault, driving drunk. He wore a seat belt; his friend did not.

 

Hank now is a full-blown alcoholic, much to Yvonne’s distress. She wants them to “move to the next level,” but only if Hank can get a handle on his drinking problem.

 

On an otherwise average day, Hank’s rowdy punk neighbor, Russ (Matt Smith, most famously of Doctor Who and The Crown), is summoned to London to see his dying father one last time. He abruptly places his cat, Bud, in Hank’s reluctant care.

 

“He’s a biter,” Russ warns, as he sprints away.

 

Yvonne thinks caring for Bud is a marvelous idea; she even moves the cat’s litter box into Hank’s bathroom … much to his disgust. But it’s obvious, even in these early moments, that Hank and Bud will bond.

 

Yvonne heads to work. Moments later, two thugs show up, searching for Russ. Hank unwisely displays attitude, and gets beaten so badly that he wakens in a hospital, two days later, having lost a kidney. Yvonne warns that now — with only one kidney — he really, truly must stop drinking. 

 

That will be a challenge.

 

Friday, November 15, 2013

Dallas Buyers Club: A smart investment

Dallas Buyers Club (2013) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rating: R, for pervasive profanity, strong sexual content, nudity and drug use

By Derrick Bang

Some heroes are born. Others are made.

Kicking, screaming, scratching and spitting every step of the way.

Ron Woodroof (Matthew McConaughey, right) initially reacts with knee-jerk contempt
when the cross-dressing Rayon (Jared Leto) offers to help establish a rather unusual
business model. Soon, though, "just business" grows into something a great deal
more profound.
Ron Woodroof’s unexpected saga wasn’t nearly as poetic or dramatically mesmerizing as is suggested in Jean-Marc Vallée’s new film, Dallas Buyers Club, but there’s no doubt that the real-life Woodroof was an unlikely champion for the disenfranchised, much the way Oskar Schindler found his calling during World War II.

Texas born-and-bred Woodroof was a hard-living, harder-drinking electrical contractor when he was blindsided by an HIV diagnosis in 1986, and given sixth months to live. (Vallée’s film shifts this life-changing moment to 1985, to tie the unfolding drama to Rock Hudson’s announcement, that July, that he had AIDS.)

Not one to blithely accept a death sentence, Woodroof went into the research tank and emerged a year later to found what became known as the Dallas Buyers Club: an underground source of drugs not approved by the FDA for use in the United States ... but, in many cases, legal in other countries and known to be helpful for HIV-positive patients, and those with full-blown AIDS.

Woodroof’s story, and the Dallas Buyers Club, were profiled in Bill Minutaglio’s compelling article in Dallas Life Magazine, published on Aug. 9, 1992. Woodroof died not quite a month later, on Sept. 12. During the seven years he ran his guerrilla drug network, there’s no question he helped prolong the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, of desperately ill people ... just as he prolonged his own life.

Interesting, then, that we’ve waited two full decades for a film to be made about this feisty, foul-mouthed, oddly charismatic Texas renegade.

Vallée’s film is powered by a galvanic performance from Matthew McConaughey, who notoriously dropped 47 pounds in order to convincingly play the emaciated Woodroof. That’s obviously a drastic move, but it certainly lends considerable verisimilitude to what we see onscreen, just as Christian Bale’s similar weight-loss routine brought jaw-dropping realism to his portrayal of crack-addicted Dicky Eklund, in The Fighter.

But the intensity of McConaughey’s performance here derives from a great deal more than his painfully thin frame; he charges through this role with a level of desperation that matches his character’s angry struggle to stay alive. And anger is the right word, because Woodroof quickly comes to believe that the U.S. medical establishment is, at best, moving much too slowly to battle a disease primarily killing the nation’s “expendables”; or, at worst, actively conspiring with Big Pharma to develop and deliver piecemeal treatment in a manner designed solely to maximize profits.