“Nothing but detours.”
Holy shit, absolutely blown away by this.
“Who wants to live like real people?”
Ahead of my conversation with Walter Chaw about Edgar G. Ulmer’s DETOUR, I just rewatched Wade Williams’s little-known 1992 remake. Most notably, it adheres to Martin Goldsmith’s original script and his novel (Ulmer had to excise some of the story because of time and budgetary constraints). DETOUR ‘92 isn’t conventionally great or even very good, but it’s beyond fascinating as an artifact of cinematic devotion and obsession. Would still take this sincere amateurish…
What the fucking everloving fuck? Can’t believe I’d never seen this. Jodie Foster is an artist (I think she programs words on signs) who doesn’t look at the road when she’s driving, crashes, and then witnesses a mob hit. The mobsters come after her. She has a poster that says ISLE OF FEAR up on her wall. Weird half-naked people live behind her. Her boyfriend, played by Charlie Sheen, eats a frozen pizza out of the box, I think, and…
On the surface, Martha Coolidge’s ANGIE seems like a strange film to choose to talk about from a watershed year that also gave us PULP FICTION, THE HUDSUCKER PROXY, THE LAST SEDUCTION, AMATEUR, CROOKLYN, and many of my other all-time favorites. In 1994, I was fifteen going on sixteen. I loved movies. I’d gotten very serious about them, writing a couple of terrible scripts, and watching as many movies a week as I could, usually around ten, most of them…