Something strange happened to me this week.
Got home from work, cracked open a beer, sat back and put on a film. So far, nothing too weird. I mean... well that's a tale for another time.
This film however was Capricorn One.
And Capricorn One is objectively a good film.
Directed by Peter Hyams, who depending on what side of the fence you lay directed the classic/dud's 2010 (the unnecessary but acceptable sequel to Kubrick's 2001) and Timecop, and starring the amazing Elliot Gould with the much superior Brolin, James.
Oh shit and yeah Telly Savalas is in it too. Fuck that's cool.
(Quick tech. note about Hyams, he seems to gravitate towards Kubrickesque choices in terms of framing and composition but doesn't seem to quite nail it. Just an observation.)
It's about a conspiracy. Kind of like the idea that the moon landing was falsified and the footage was actually shot by Kubrick in secret somewhere in the heart of the USA. Instead it's a Mars hoax. But what happens if the mission goes wrong? Live on air? But the astronauts are secretly safe and sound? It's compelling stuff for sure.
Elliot Gould is fantastic as the only journalist in town who gives a shit about the mysterious nature of the astronauts supposed deaths, and his storyline is fantastic. Almost matches his take on Phillip Marlowe in The Long Goodbye, which is still a more superior film of course, but this is Gould at his peak and that carries through.
As the astronauts make their escape from the government late in the film, as was expected of them, there is a thrilling chase: astronauts attempting to take off in a jet plane while being pursued by government agents in cars.
One of the astronauts is hanging out of the bottom of the plane, trying to close the air-stair. He tries and tries again to no avail. One mistake and he's a goner.
He goes in for one more attempt.
"COME ON JUICE. COME ON O.J."
It was unexpected. I'll admit that.
As one, someone far too young, and two, have spent most of my life outside of the United States, not someone to follow American Football... I don't think those words would have ever have had reason to have come out of my mouth.
Yet they did.
Because I've watched American Crime Story.
Because O.J. Simpson was playing the role of Commander John Walker.
Really, he just stood in the background for most of the film. Really, that was the only scene he did much. To be fair to him, this was a film very early on in the acting segment of his multifaceted career (Can I say that? You understand what's happening here? Technically it was multifaceted. Athlete, Actor, Criminal.)
But that scene was thrilling.
It was gripping.
I was gripped. I was thrilled.
And then I felt dirty.
I wanted O.J. to survive, to win, when in reality, considering all the horrible things he did (because come on, he killed Ron and Nicole) I really should have wanted him to fail miserably.
And this is the thing: The Naked Gun? Those films are hilarious. ZAZ and Leslie Neilson are brilliant. Bordered upon genius for a short period in time. O.J was fun in those films too but...
I'm struggling to find the words to convey what I would like to say here. I guess the closest thing I can think of is growing up I used to listen to Lostprophets. I do not anymore. But there were six people in that band, and only one of them was an evil fucking perverted freak.
Art oftentimes is collaborative, as in music, as in film.
Do we condemn the many because of actions of the few?
And how do I justify wanting to watch Capricorn One again?