Day Two Hundred and Forty-nine - Ken Burns: Prohibition, Episode 2, "Scofflaw!"

Alright, I admit it... I'm hooked. Burns' documentary keeps me awake and interested as his narrator Peter Coyote (with the help of historians, authors, scholars, and actors) profiles both lawmen (and women) and criminals flaunting the 18th Amendment and doing so on a massive scale.

Familiar voices of course included Sam Waterston, whom I heard quite a bit last night, but standouts in this episode for me were John Lithgow and Paul Giamatti. Their turns giving voice to the Scofflaws of the time really worked with the narrative.

The culture of the time is also examined and, in one bit, I find it hilarious that tens of thousands of people entered a contest to create a word for people openly flaunting Prohibition and invented the word "Scofflaw." It was also laughable that prescription whiskey was still allowed as well as hard apple cider so housewives could "conserve their produce" Well, you learn something new every day. I think, the icing on the cake was the tremendous increase in sacramental wine, which was still permitted, jumping to millions of gallons.

The Ohio Gang destroys the mystique of the romance of the bootlegger, showing quite frankly that the graft rose pretty much all the way to the top, with even President Harding enjoying whiskey with his Poker Cabinet. In contrast, the ideal was kept going in the Pacific Northwest with an enterprising former police lieutenant named Olmstead who made a fortune in Seattle until a private detective and an engineer, hired by the mayor of Seattle's enemies to tap all the offices, lead to Olmstead's downfall.

While he didn't plummet quite as far personally as another bootlegger, a former lawyer named Remus who based himself in Cincinnati (my hometown) and who spoke of himself in the third person, Olmstead, despite being a gentleman about his illegalities, still fell to the hammer of justice, even as the country (particularly those in power) openly accepted bribes and skirted the law.

I find that I liked Olmstead so much more, despite the sensationalist nature of Remus' eventual imprisonment over his bootlegging and the betrayal on the part of his wife... whom he eventually murdered and successfully pleaded not guilty by insanity. Remus was tabloid fair, but Olmstead (at least, in the presentation of the documentary) was just a reasonable American breaking what he saw to be an unjust law and making a tidy profit because of it.

I mean, what's more American than that? It's amazing how easily I can rationalize away so much graft and corruption when it comes to Prohibition.

There's a small section for Capone, but Burns spends more time on the figures that the general public probably doesn't know... and I think that's to the better considering how much the myth of the Chicago Gangster influences our views on the era.

Remus and Temporary Insanity and Olmstead and Wiretapping are the key standouts, I think... as well as the row in the Democratic Convention  between two candidates who split the vote so much (The Prohibitionist KKK versus the Wet New Yorker) that the compromise over the third candidate may have ultimately cost the Democrats the election, putting Coolidge into office.

As with yesterday, Burns' Prohibition is a prime documentary that keeps me coming back for more education on a history that I know so little about. Just one more to go before I'm done. Maybe I'll complete it tomorrow... or maybe I'll give you, dear reader, a break and go for a movie instead.

We'll see, I suppose.

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~

Day One Hundred and Thirty-eight - Cop Land, "How crime noir should be, for the most part."

When you think police drama, just off the top of your head... would you ever consider Sylvester Stallone could make it as a vulnerable, kowtowed sheriff to a bridge and tunnel police community in Jersey?

I mean, really? Stallone?

But, when you watch him do it... it's really not so bad. Especially when you consider he doesn't really have to act all that much. His lines are few and far between and, basically, all that's required of him is to look a bit sad and mopey, even when he's smiling... because, for the majority of the film, he's a broken down lapdog to the real movers and shakers of Garrison, NJ, the mobbed up corrupt cops who live there.

That's where most of the acting talent in this film lies: Harvey Keitel, Ray Liotta, Robert Patrick, Michael Rapaport, and Peter Berg are NYPD... but dirty, so very dirty, and the majority of the film revolves around Rapaport's faked suicide and the fallout it brings down on the members of the 37th precinct.

Nominally, Stallone is the lead as Cop Land's resident Sheriff Freddy, but I find myself feeling that it's more about the ensemble. Whether it's Keitel's Ray or Liotta's Figgsy, the drama that plays out for the folks in the know of Garrison is compelling, even if the writing is weak.

I think my favorite scenes revolved around Robert De Niro's internal affairs investigator who first appeals to Freddy's sense of justice and duty but then refuses to help when Ray has the mayor shut down the investigation. This, of course, forces Freddy to take matters into his own hands, leading to the eventual climax.

A few things do bother me about the film.

For one thing, there are some weird as heck casting choices. While Stallone as the stoic lead was jarring at first, I kind of grew into it, but Janeane Garofalo as a deputy? And Annabella Sciorra doesn't exactly have much in the way of screen time, which is disappointing since she's supposed to be a key motivator for Freddy's life.

Then there's the kidnapping of Rapaport's "Superboy" Babitch by Ray's inner circle during the climax. There's no nod as to how they knew that Sheriff Freddy had found him and was ready to bring him to One Police Plaza and tear everything down. I didn't need much, just something, you know?

Still, that very same climax has one of the best sequences in police drama history where Freddy is almost completely deafened by a gunshot and is forced to confront the inner circle at Ray's only hearing the bullets flying. It's great cinema and very effective use of sound direction as the audience only hears what Freddy does... the ringing of tinnitus and the occasional pistol report.

As much as I love the climax, though, I just couldn't help but laugh at John Spencer's death scene with it's obvious boxy squibs and his ham-fisted gunplay.

It's not a perfect movie, but it's actually pretty darn interesting and worth the watch. It's definitely not The Departed, but it works.

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~