Cop Land: (1997) Cop Land is a sublime movie, and let me hasten to remind you that I don't even like cop movies, as a rule. This one is extraordinary. It moves at an assured pace, just right to tell the story, never rushing, never lagging. Stallone projects a heavy, world-weary sweetness that is so flawlessly communicated you forget that you ever forgot he could act. He stands out, and this in a movie filled with fine performances.
It was here that Michael Rapaport first caught the world's eye with his admixture of boyish good will and potential violence. In his first scene, we follow him through a titty bar as he says good night to his friends, and there is that combination of smooth camera and smooth, improvisational finesse that reminds one a little of the old De Niro things, the old Scorsese things. Liotta, Keitel, and De Niro are all here, and all have their moments; Cathy Moriarty has a striking turn as an aging and bitter sex-kitten.
Patrick is Jack, one of the stalwart, "bent" cops in Keitel's fold. His role is secondary: he's sort of the hammer in the Keitel character's tool-chest, he spends a lot of time scrapping, but we see his depth in the unspeaking way he looks at his trusted boss after one of their own has been killed under suspicious circumstances.
The element that sends this one over the top as one of the greatest cop films ever made is its aural presence, its soundscape. Exceptional throughout, its most obvious greatness kicks in at the end, after Stallone’s sad-sack but relentless Sheriff is deafened by a gunshot while he goes forward on his quest for justice. Everything slows down, the atmosphere thickens. We hear all sound as if from underwater, through a wall of deep, ambient roar, and accompanied by a distant, haunting bagpipe refrain, a leftover from the cop funerals we’ve witnessed. Then, the first clear thing we hear after a long time is Stallone’s voice, saying, “I can’t hear you, Ray,” to the last of the bad guys. It's really stunning.
Walk the Line: (2005) Dirt-poor country boy transcends poverty, a mean daddy, and drug addiction to become a beloved musical legend and leave a profound, game-changing legacy. Yeah, it follows the musical-bio-of-the-week formula, but this one has a few extra things going for it: not just a very good cast (they all have that), but a better-than-average script (the one that particularly gave me shivers was the section where Sam Phillips is describing to Cash the song he needs to sing instead of the safe gospel he's been doing) and a truly sweet love story. Most of these movies, you have to take it on faith that the fellow in question really found his soul-mate and it's not just Hollywood gimcrackery, but anyone lucky enough to have seen Cash and wife June Carter perform together will have come away with the romantic notion that this was, in truth, a match made in heaven. It lends extra charm to the early scenes in which they're innocently coming to know one another, and it's necessary to shore up the story, which lies balanced evenly across two pillars: the love story, and Cash's daddy issues.
Robert Patrick, as Cash's hard-drinkin', sharecroppin' daddy, performs a crucial task in relatively abridged screen-time, and does it with admirable command, never relaxing into black and white but using a whole sfumato-palette full of minute gradations in grey. You never doubt that he's a real man, with both virtues and flaws, which are communicated in a stoical manner that rings true from a Depression-era dirt-farmer. There are beautiful touches: the panic around his eyes in the life-changing moment when his beloved eldest son is dying and he spits at Cash, "Where were you?" and -- this one really got me, -- when he pulls Cash's cap off his head as he pushes him into his dying brother's room. When they finally have their showdown, over an awkward Thanksgiving supper alongside the Carter clan, it's the son who picks the fight, but daddy doesn't wince, shows no sign of embarrassment or doubt. Patrick's paterfamilias knows who he is, knows he is the alpha-dog, and his face relaxes just barely into a smile as he launches, uncowed, into the proffered duel of words, knowing it's his boy who will roll over in the end.
And, Shelby Lynne, by the way, is just about perfect as Cash's mom, too.
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