For those old enough to remember the beginnings of the DVD Boom (I’m capitalizing because, yes, it is an actual era in the history of film distribution), it’s safe to say that there was only one label to turn to for solid genre output: Anchor Bay. When they weren’t churning out their 9,000,000th release of an EVIL DEAD franchise entry, the Bay were putting out titles that made die hard horror fans salivate. Whether your tastes leaned toward Argento (their 3-Disc SUSPIRIA release is still busted out several times a year in my house), or you wanted to revisit some seriously schlocky VHS slasher with significantly better picture quality and no pesky “tracking” issues (how many times have they reissued that SILENT NIGHT, DEADLY NIGHT twofer pack?), Anchor Bay was your label of choice.
Sadly, as the years went on and the company grew (and was bought out by Starz Entertainment in 2006, renamed Starz Home Entertainment in 2007 and then subsequently reverted back to Anchor Bay in 2008), their interests and business model shifted toward acquiring and releasing new low-budget genre fare to theaters/DVD/VOD instead of generating catalog titles; a shame since they helped set the gold standard for home entertainment. A few other companies have matched or exceeded Anchor Bay in terms of quality cult, horror and exploitation fare (Bill Lustig’s Blue Underground label is my favorite of all time) but, to many, their name still represents a historical landmark in terms of niche market home entertainment.
These days, Shout! Factory (and their genre arm Scream Factory) have picked up right where Anchor Bay left off. For the last two years, the company has specialized in genre releases that put the old dogs to shame. “From the Factory Floor” will be a chronicling of the best of the best of these titles (which, believe you me, will be hard to distinguish at times), as both Shout! and Scream Factory continue to blow minds with such under-appreciated and, in some cases, flat out forgotten gems as HALLOWEEN III: SEASON OF THE WITCH and FUTUREWORLD. These are the movies that make serious genre fans like myself happy, and their 2013 lineup looks to be nothing less than amazing (ROLLING THUNDER! THE BURNING! LIFEFORCE!).
Film number eleven in the series is the feature directorial debut of genre screenwriter Eric Red (THE HITCHER, NEAR DARK); the Texas hit man road movie, COHEN & TATE (1989)…
Eric Red is the VHS wunderkind of the 1980s. Having written THE HITCHER and NEAR DARK (which, unfortunately, both tanked theatrically only to find a cult audience on tape) he became an inspiration to generations of aspiring genre screenwriters who followed. Just one read through either of his breakout screenplays reveals a writer with a unique voice; a kind of conversational minimalism that occasionally explodes into blunt, gory violence. His often Southern characters were defined by action and cryptic dialogue*, lending them an almost mythic quality.
COHEN & TATE, Red’s 1989 feature directorial debut (he had previously only directed two shorts, GUNMEN’S BLUES and TELEPHONE, while attending the AFI Conservatory, where he also wrote THE HITCHER as his thesis), retains Red’s trademark minimalism and punctuations of stark brutality while fitting rather snugly into the “road movie” template. The plot barely exists; two hit men — the geriatric, stoic Mr. Cohen (Roy Scheider, a silver haired shark) and the down home wild-man Mr. Tate (FULL METAL JACKET’s Adam Baldwin, channeling Bill Paxton’s Severen from NEAR DARK) — kidnap tiny Travis Knight (Harley Cross, who would play 10-year-old Martin Brundle in THE FLY II later that year), witness to the murder of one of the mobsters they work for. Their mission — to transport young Mr. Knight back to Houston for execution. While riding in a beat up Chevrolet, Travis recognizes a rift between the two killers (Cohen is a seasoned, all business pro while Tate is a thrill-killing psycho), and exploits it to his advantage.
COHEN & TATE is an almost unassuming achievement by simple design alone. Red’s three person riff is almost stagey in its execution, as the screenwriter attempts to resurrect the B-Films of the 1950s for a generation raised on the big, oily muscles of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Most are going to watch this movie in 2013 and wonder “what’s the big deal?”, but they’d be missing the bigger contextual point. The shoot-em-up excesses of the ’80s action genre are left in a Texas dust cloud in favor of a style that harkens back to not only 1950s American noir, but the Nikkatsu noir of the mid ’60s and even such classic John Wayne Westerns as THE SEARCHERS. This isn’t Marion Cobretti, mowing down a million bad guys with a machine gun, but rather cool, suited killers in the vein of Jef Costello.
Fans of such classic Hollywood directors as John Ford will find plenty to enjoy from the opening sequence, which finds the Knight family under the watch of the FBI in a farmhouse on the Oklahoma plains. But Red adds his classical compositions an ’80s action film touch’ by giving each one of the armed guards aviator sunglasses which reflect the soft, Midwestern sun. Red wrings the scene for all of the tension it’s worth with tiny, understated events like the appearance of a possibly two-faced agent and a dead phone line. But the quiet is then fractured by Mr. Tate as he comes barreling through the front door, shotgun out and up, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. It’s this juxtaposition of the serene and the shattered that gives COHEN & TATE it’s power and elevates it over your standard ’80s action fare, turning it into bonafide art instead of dustbin fodder.
Special Features: A brief making-of doc gathers Red, editor Ed Abroms, and cinematographer Victor J. Kemper (DOG DAY AFTERNOON, THE JERK) and a borderline extra whose character gets shot in a gas station (why they included him is beyond me but, whatever…). It’s an interesting enough retrospective, but still tough to take without Scheider being involved (may he Rest In Peace). The reflections on making a buddy movie with bad guys, cutting the violence to appease the MPAA (something Red still seems slightly bitter over), and casting Chief Brody as a “samurai” type are all funny, if only slightly revealing. The most interesting feature comes in the form of deleted scenes, which demonstrate just how much of the violence was cut (A LOT), but also show off Abroms’ eye for a good edit, as many are just extended versions of existing scenes. Red also contributes an excellent, conversational commentary track in which he relays story after story about the making of COHEN & TATE as if it were just produced last year.
*Jesse’s “Let’s just say I fought for the South…” from NEAR DARK is probably one of my favorite lines of dialogue from any picture.