Page 12
A walk on the wild side
New film Rush ODs on reality
by Robb Frederick
The Collegian
According to the latest
American work ethic (one we can
thank the success-oriented 80's
for), the eight-hour day has again
been amended and expanded.
These days, accountants and
personnel managers work through
lunches, take home thick work
files and stop by the office on
Saturday mornings. The sacrifice
has become a prerequisite for
advancement, a minor concession
paving the way to the bigger
office across the hall.
But when you're an undercover
narc dealing cocaine and heroin,
after hours work can lead to a
much different place.
Hence the premise behind
Rush, a gritty new film that
takes cops out of the donut shops
and into the depths of chemical
dependency.
Based on Kim Wozencraft's
1990 novel of the same name,
Rush documents the first
assignment of rookie cop Kristin
Cates (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a
Catholic-school girl who slips
into the throes of addiction while
trying to land a drug buy with a
local pusher (Gregg Allman).
Taken under the wing of
partner Jim Raynor (a superb
Jason Patric), Cates comes face
to face with one brutal
realization: in a smoke-filled
world without police backup and
tidy time cards, when a string of
sleepless nights forces narcs to
sample their evidence during drug
buys, it's easy to lose sight of
the boundaries between right and
wrong.
Before long, Cates has crossed
those lines. The innocent rookie
is reduced to a bleary-eyed junkie,
crawling across a frayed carpet in
search of imaginary pills.
Raynor's spiral is even more
disturbing. After injecting the
evidence from a dozen cases, he
disappears, only to barricade
himself in an empty apartment, a
wavering shotgun clasped
between his legs. When the pair
fabricates a case against Allman
Entertainment Thursday ’ February 20, 1992
and prepares for the trial, Raynor
calmly sears his needle-pocked
arm with a hot iron, hoping to
mask the evidence of his
intravenous binges. Andy Griffith
never dreamt of things getting
this bad.
First-time director Lili Fini
Zanuck keeps the film dark and
dreary, slapping her audience in
the face with graphic scenes of
drug use and the inevitable
withdrawal that follows.
Everything about this film is
ugly, from the ragged bell
bottomed flares Raynor and Cates
wear to the brutal sex scene that
carries them through a moment
of drug-induced paranoia.
These heroes are far from
perfect. But their flaws give the
film its substance, reminding us
that even the good guys have
their bad moments.
Leigh and Patric are at their
best during those moments. She
pulls us in with her wide-eyed
innocence, and he batters us over
the head with the intensity of life
on the edge.
Patric ( The Lost Boys) is one
of Hollywood's most overlooked
character actors. There's no
denying his trembling
anticipation before each fix, and
when he introduces Cates to the
undercover style of retribution,
we know he only has one way
out.
Even more impressive,
however, are the supporting roles
filled by Max Perlich and
newcomer Special K McCray,
two pushers who carry us deep
into the bowels of the drug trade.
Perlich revives his role in
Drugstore Cowboy as a second
rate dealer who can't make it in
the business; this time he's forced
to choose between squealing on
his junkie friends or serving a 30-
year prison sentence.
McCray provides the film’s
most harrowing character; with
his tongue flopping around his
greasy mug, he looks like Jabba
the Hut come to life. And when
he explains the sensual rush that
comes with each fix, stroking his
velour-clad crotch with a snub
nosed revolver all the while, we
have to vent the revulsion Cates
fights to keep to herself.
Rush has its weak moments,
but Zanuck has nonetheless
directed one of the most realistic
police films in years. The film's
end may be predictable, but we
still squirm when it comes. And
we leave the theater with a new
angle on the age-old conflict of
good vs. evil -- one that frightens
uS by revealing how close the
two can come.
Check
out
Behrend
hoops
and all
the neat
sports
stuff on
pages 15
and 16.
Clapton f s soundtrack
smolders
There are two kinds of film soundtracks,
The first focuses on sheer star-power, compiling a
smorgasbord of sure-fire hits from today’s top bands. Take the
chart-bound Until the End of the World, for example, which
boasts hot new tracks from U 2, R.E.M. and Talking Heads
(see review on page 13).
The second delves into the heart of the film, grasping at
the lyrical mood that sets the stage for the action onscreen.
Case in point: Rush, a collection of original atmospheric
tracks by guitar god Eric Clapton.
With a few exceptions, the numbers on Rush aren’t meant
to stand on their own. Most aren't even songs; they're brief
flashes of emotion or quick sketches of the dark depression
that hovers over the entire film. On their own, the tracks are
easy to push aside, but together they form the undeniable
image of a nightmare that has spiraled beyond control.
Clapton's music has always been rooted in the blues, and
since he has already made the transition to soundtrack
recording ( Lethal Weapon II), he was the natural choice for
Rush.
The payoff is obvious from the second track, the
instrumental "Tracks and Lines," which sets the smoldering
tone that continues throughout the disc.
Clapton offsets the slow bum of "Realization" with his
characteristic clean, soaring fretwork. The rattlesnake effects
would sound campy in another track, but here they just
heighten the tension.
The performance demands attention, simply because it
cements Clapton’s seat at the head of the rock pantheon. Few
rock musicians are willing to step out of the mainstream and
into the stripped-down realm of instrumental movements, and
even fewer could make the transition this easily.
Clapton himself hasn't made the leap wholeheartedly. The
final three tracks on Rush further refine the polished blues of
albums like Journeyman, providing a nice preview of the
direction Clapton's next studio album will take.
The jouncy "Help Me Up" is a pure-bred hit, as is the
closing "Tears in Heaven,” which has already dug its hooks
into the high end of the AOR charts.
The former reveals Clapton at his most optimistic, while
the latter hints a solemn parallel to the recent death of his
four-year-old son Conor.
Nestled between these tracks is the extended jam "Don't
Know Which Way to Go," a collaboration with blues giant
Buddy Guy.
Guy provides the lead vocals in his typical gruff manner,
and Clapton completes the equation with sparse bursts of
high end fretwork.
The song is a homage to Clapton's roots, but it also
reinforces the message of the earlier instrumental numbers.
By revealing an occasional glimmer of hope, he carries us
through the more frequent darker moments. That theme
vividly punctuates the film's storyline; but it also sets a new
standard for thematic music releases, a standard that provides
the credibility film soundtracks need in order to stand on their
own.
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-- Robb Frederick