Review #1,442: 'White Boy Rick' (2018)

If you've ever read up on Richard Wershe Jr, the drug kingpin whose life became the stuff of legend in the prion system over the years, you'll likely be aware that he was used as an FBI informant at just 14 years of age, while the Bureau funded his empire to keep him slinging on the streets and in the loop with any other criminal activity happening in his city of Detroit. After the FBI higher-ups discovered his age, they ditched him, and the dealer known as 'White Boy Rick' was eventually busted for selling cocaine and sentence to life in prison, a ridiculous sentence handed out via some Draconian law that has since been discarded. It's a fascinating, frustrating story that you wouldn't believe if it wasn't true, but Yann Demange's new film White Boy Rick doesn't quite know how to tell it. With so much to be told, the film seems to cast aside the central plot in favour of a domestic drama which, although terrifically acted by the whole cast, doesn't know where its priorities should lie.

We first meet the young Rick (Richie Merritt) at a gun show with his father Richard Sr. (Matthew McConaughey). Despite his baby face and bum-fluff upper-lip hair, Rick is confident and street-smart, teaming up with Old Man Wershe to hustle a salesman into selling two machine guns for a ridiculously knocked-down price. Rick Sr. deals guns for a living, but the business is far from prosperous, and he dreams of someday owning a video store and living within the law. His daughter Dawn (Bel Powley) has picked up a nasty drug habit, and the family-of-three regularly have shouting matches in the street. Luckily, Grandpa (Bruce Dern) and Grandma (Piper Laurie) are just down the street to lighten the mood. After pulling off a few arms deals with gangster 'Lil Man' Curry (Jonathan Majors), Rick Jr. works his way into the cocaine business under the wing of an African-American gang. It doesn't take him long to get busted, but FBI agents Snyder (Jennifer Jason Leigh) and Byrd (Rory Cochrane), along with Detroit PD Detective Jackson (Brian Tyree Henry), are quick to pounce, handing the juvenile a fat pouch of cocaine to keep him in action, promising protection in exchange for information.

It's around this point that the script by Andy Weiss, Logan Miller and Noah Miler starts to lose control, struggling to grasp the message it's trying to convey in a blur of competing plot threads. The family drama at the very centre of Rick's life is given the most attention, and it's engrossing, often devastatingly raw stuff. Powley and McConaughey are standouts, the former wrestling with an addiction spiralling rapidly out of control and the latter blaming himself for the path his son has decided to take. Rick Sr. hates drugs because they devastate lives, yet his guns are used for multiple murders across the city. The domestic scenes are so well done that you almost forget there's another story being told, one that is setting Rick up for a lengthy term in slammer. So when these moments arrive, you never really understand what's going on.

Why exactly would the FBI put so much trust in a 14 year-old relatively new to the drugs scene, and just what does White Boy Rick do on a day-to-day basis? We don't really see him selling drugs, or spending money, or setting up contacts, or building this so-called empire, so Rick's real status and influence remains a mystery. Even his occasional meetings with Snyder and Bird are brief and bereft of information. Demange wants to make the point that Rick was ultimately set up by a government willing to ruthlessly exploit a minor for their own benefit, yet with so little time developing his criminal activities and relationship with the authorities, this aspect almost feels like an afterthought. As a portrait of family dysfunction, White Boy Rick excels, but if you want to really learn about how Richard Wershe Jr went from bread-line gun-runner to FBI informant to a landing a brutally unfair life sentence, I would opt for a Google.


Directed by: Yann Demange
Starring: Richie Merritt, Matthew McConaughey, Bel Powley, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Rory Cochrane, Brian Tyree Henry, Jonathan Majors, Bruce Dern, Piper Laurie
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,241: 'Hounddog' (2007)

It has been said that when it comes to cinema, there is no such thing as bad publicity. Controversy can spread word-of-mouth and natural curiosity faster than most ad campaigns, propelling a film that may have flown under most people's radar to surprise success and welcome notoriety. This isn't always the case however, as Deborah Kampmeier's Hounddog proves. Following a screening at the Sundance Film Festival, the film faced protests for a scene in which Dakota Fanning's character is raped (she was 12 at the time of filming). Hounddog went onto to be a critical and box-office failure, and has since faded into obscurity. In fact, the gut-wrenching power of the hard-to-watch rape scene and the performance of Fanning are the only good things to be said about this slow-moving and cliche-ridden drama.

It's the late 1950's. Lewellen (Fanning) is a precocious young girl living in rural Alabama with her deadbeat dad (David Morse), and next door to her religious disciplinarian grandmother (Piper Laurie). She spends most of her spare time performing awful renditions of her favourite Elvis Presley songs, or down at the local watering hole with her friend Buddy (Cody Hanford). The two share the odd kiss and inspect each other's private parts with fascination. We're told that Daddy is abusive, and clearly gets violent with his new girlfriend (listed as 'Stranger Lady' in the credits and played by Robin Wright). However, he is struck by lightning one night and reduced to a simpleton, becoming reliant on his tom-boy daughter and terrified she will abandon him. Lewellen's main concern is nabbing tickets for Elvis's visit to town, until a horrific attack turns her world upside down.

In an attempt to capture Lewellen's poverty and the general barrenness of the Deep South setting, Kampmeier has pasted together images of rusty, decrepit vehicles parked on overgrown lawns and damp, sweaty interiors, combined with the constant chirping of crickets. It's beautifully filmed, but this kind of imagery has been used countless times before. It often feels like a foreigner's idea of Alabama, all string vests, small-town ignorance and God-fearing. You wait for the story to kick into gear, but it never does. Instead, the film seems to revel in putting Lewellen through one horrible experience after another, with seemingly no point. She seeks guidance from local snake-catcher Charles (Afemo Omilami), who teaches the girl about the blues which inspired Elvis, and the two share a few scenes in which he comes across as the cliched wise black man. Hounddog is terrible on almost every level, but thank God for Fanning, who even outshines seasoned veterans like Morse and Wright.


Directed by: Deborah Kampmeier
Starring: Dakota Fanning, David Morse, Cody Hanford, Piper Laurie, Robin Wright, Afemo Omilami
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,092: 'Trauma' (1993)

Trauma is a particularly significant horror in that it was the first film to be made by Italian genre master Dario Argento on American soil. Following a string of eye-catching, kaleidoscopic gialli and superior supernatural tales, Argento found himself at the door of Hollywood, an industry which, at the time, was struggling to churn out much in terms of originality in the horror/thriller genre. While he had employed English-speaking actors before, such as Jennifer Connelly, David Hemmings and Karl Malden, their roles were often crudely dubbed, and Trauma offered the director a chance to reach a broader audience with his unique - if obviously Hitchcockian - blend of build-up and terror.

Disappointingly, Trauma, if anything, represents the beginning of Argento's drastic career decline. The opening is full of promise, as a familiar black-gloved killer stalks a victim before killing her in a brutal and stylish fashion, here with a device which allows the victim to be garroted with relative ease. Bolstered by a POV style and traditionally great effects work by Tom Savini, it's a scene that could have easily been taken from one of Argento's native works. However, as popular as the giallo craze was, it didn't quite reach the general American audience, and so Trauma gets watered-down and peppered with horror cliches in an attempt to cast a wider audience net. While the tropes are there - an everyman (Christopher Rydell) is forced into sleuthing while dodging the police - it does little but frustrate as you realise that somewhere, deep down, there's probably a great giallo trying to get out.

So while the film has it's odd moment, the result is an incoherent, and somehow quite boring, mess of ideas and clashing styles. Starting promisingly, the story goes on to place anorexia sufferer Aura (Asia Argento, the director's then 17 year-old daughter) in the hands of illustrator David (Rydell) after her parents are murdered by the masked killer, and it is during this period that the film does nothing but lay out a string of red herrings, as well as creepily leering at Argento's youthful beauty. The final third is an exhausting conveyor belt of anti-climaxes, before the ludicrous (and not in an entertaining way) reveal that feels like it was made by a sub-par Tobe Hooper or Wes Craven arrives. While it's nowhere near the level of atrociousness that Argento would vomit out in 2009 with Giallo, Trauma feels like it was made by a once-great visionary who had tiredly given in to the producers' voices in his ear.


Directed by: Dario Argento
Starring: Christopher Rydell, Asia Argento, Piper Laurie, Frederic Forrest, Brad Dourif
Country: Italy/USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie