302. Wipe that smile off your face

Relatively early on in the proceedings, Dalton flashes a grin at Jimmy while they square up after a flurry of blows and counters. Is he…enjoying this? Yes, at the moment anyway, and for several reasons. First, he’s just told Doc that he’s only good at one thing: He never loses. Of course he’s glad to be doing the one thing he’s good at.

Second, consider Jimmy’s rhetoric. He opens their battle banter with “Prepare to die.” Dalton knows he’s in a life-or-death struggle, for himself anyway—I don’t believe he has any plans to kill Jimmy at this stage—and with that in mind Dalton is pleased to have weathered Jimmy’s initial murderous assault with roughly the same alacrity as he’s fended off countless others. He’s doing well, and he knows it.

Third, and again springboarding off Jimmy’s declared intent to kill, Dalton knows that being as good as he is is pissing Jimmy off. He can read the frustration all over Jimmy’s face, and thanks to Marshall Teague’s enormously expressive mug, so can we. There’s some delight to be taken there, as any number of the smug smiles he’s shot at the Tinkers of the world indicate.

But we have another face to look at here, don’t we. Jimmy is not just annoyed, or even pissed—he’s furious. He decided to kill Dalton the moment Dalton knocked him off his motorbike, and he’s doubling down on that decision.

When Dalton realizes this, when Dalton decides it’s really kill or be killed, Dalton will smile no longer.

 

 

“Mr. Robot” thoughts, Season Four, Episode Four: “404 Not Found”

“The Affair” thoughts, Season Five, Episode Ten

A snakebite at the end of a climactic, no-holds-barred heart-to-heart is a perfect visual synecdoche for the entire series, which has always pitted human desire and emotion against the caprice of the universe — hurricanes, cancer diagnoses, fires, drownings, accidents of birth. What a pleasure to watch a show move toward its final hour with so firm a grasp on what has given it life.

I reviewed the penultimate episode of The Affair for the New York Times.

“Watchmen” thoughts, Season One, Episode Two: “Martial Feats of Comanche Horsemanship”

There’s a going on here, and it’s been a while since I’ve watched a show that seems so full of conflicting ideas it might burst at the seams. It’s a good feeling.

I reviewed last night’s episode of Watchmen for Decider.

301. Another leap

We’re several exchanges of kicks, strikes, and wrestling holds deep into Dalton and Jimmy’s vicious fight at a small beach on the shore of the mysterious body of water separating Emmett’s ranch from Wesley’s mansion when Dalton takes to the skies once again. He winds up delivering a knee to Jimmy’s midsection, which takes his opponent down. This gives Dalton his first chance to really lay a beating on the guy, albeit briefly as they’re very evenly matched.

But in a film with approximately half a hundred fight scenes, what we’re watching Dalton do stands out. Balletic leaps through the air were not part of his arsenal at any point inside or outside the Double Deuce, which is where all of his fights had been contained until now. So in part we’re seeing him respond to the environment, which has no walls or ceiling or furniture for him to navigate—just the branches of the trees. Small wonder Dalton’s offense becomes a more soaring thing, a thing of beauty.

But one other point worth considering is his motive for the fight. Dalton is off the clock right now, after all. And he’s not defending liquor shipments, or simply performing his routine job of keeping riffraff out of the bar where he works. He’s just seen his friend Emmett nearly get blown to bits by a cackling ghoul in head-to-toe denim. He wants revenge.

Seen in that light, this dance-like formation is how Dalton expresses his rage, his bloodlust, his thirst for retribution. Could there be anything more Dalton than giving voice to his basest instincts in the most beautiful way possible? Dig deeper and deeper into Dalton’s psychophysicality and you’ll find the place where the heavens meet the earth.

300. The quips begin

JIMMY: Prepare to die!

DALTON: You are such an asshole.

Noël Coward it isn’t. Peter Parker it isn’t. Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Running Man it isn’t. Jimmy makes an explicit threat, and Dalton dodges the threat component completely—no “not today,” no “prepare to think again,” nothing directly tied to Jimmy’s words. Just, “You are such an asshole,” a statement he could have accurately made about Jimmy at any point during their relationship, not predicated on being informed he should prepare to die at Jimmy’s hands.

Not for the last time in the two-minute fight that follows, Dalton’s mid-battle quip is essentially a non sequitur. He hasn’t come to banter—bantering just gets on his nerves. He won’t reply to the banter, but he’ll assert his feelings about the banterer, merely using the banter as a logical starting point. It’s a fascinating series of choices for someone engaged in a life-or-death struggle, like if Luke Skywalker had responded to the Emperor’s taunts by saying “You are one ugly motherfucker.”

“Prepare to die!” “You are such an asshole.” Say it loud and there’s music playing, say it soft and it’s almost like praying.

299. The Leap

Decking a man off the back of a moving motorbike is no mean feat. You have to run full-tilt, first of all, as close to motorbike speed as the human body allows, just to get in the door as it were. You need to properly angle your body and the leap it makes so that you’re aimed in the right direction rather than just jumping blindly. You have to lead the bike so that you’re not jumping at air where the bike once was. You have to not lead the bike too much so that you’re not gonna land on the dirt a few feet in front as the bike runs you over. You have to count on your quarry being so preoccupied by his own glee over the wanton destruction he’s wrought that he doesn’t notice the man in sweatpants barreling towards him. It helps to be shirtless and glistening with sweat, too. (I mean, I assume. Aerodynamics and all that.) You need your arms and legs at full extension, buying you time in midflight to readjust and aim appropriately, to say nothing of the asethetics. And you have to be animated with a blinding thirst for vengeance against a man who dressed up in head-to-toe denim in order to blow up the house of the weird old man who rents you an extravagant loft apartment for a hundred bucks a month, a nominal fee intended to keep the local Presbyterians at bay. You put it all together and you have Dalton, running at breakneck speed, then soaring through the air in order to crash into a man on a moving motor vehicle and then, after the crash, to kick his ass and tear his throat out. Poetry in motion. No, wait: Philosophy in motion.

298. The Laugh

Like a 1950s nun kicking the little girl under her desk.

Like a billionaire ejaculating on a $40,000 watch.

Like tyrant hearing a sycophant’s joke during the purge.

Like a budding killer dousing a cat with kerosene.

Like a border patrol agent who’s learned just enough Spanish to be cruel with it.

Like a wildfire taking a sudden turn toward inhabited areas.

Like the commander of the trebuchet that launches severed heads over the battlements.

Like an incumbent senator the night of his eighth reelection.

Like a man in wraparound sunglasses swerving his SUV toward a rabbit.

Like student loan officials at an all-expenses-paid luau.

Like a shitposter reading about the latest mass shooting.

Like a child’s nightmare of a cartoon villain as he slowly makes his way down the hall to the bedroom door.

Like a piano with only black keys, played by unseen hands.

Like a flash flood, like a rabid dog, like cut brakes, like hate speech, like black ice, like a sudden sharp pain in the left arm, like knives, like cuts, like blood.

297. On top of things

Dalton’s compassion is cloaked at this stage in the film by his rage, but it’s still there, animating his actions. To a fault, perhaps. After he pulls Emmett from his burning house, which then explodes a second time, Emmet tells him “I’d be fine if you’d get off of me.” And what does Dalton do immediately? Rest his head on the old man’s chest. He does this not out of spite or a desire to increase the man’s suffering, of course—he’s just overcome with relief that his friend is well enough to crack wise. Dalton even smiles for a second, despite it all.

When you write about Road House you have to take all of it on board or it doesn’t work. You have to treat every weird filigree of the film like a deliberate choice. You have to treat the characters as the gestalt of their actions. This is why Dalton engenders such love: About two minutes before he rips a man’s throat out in anger, he presses his forehead against the chest of his landlord, just to be closer to a man he’s glad is alive. He makes time to be nice, and bless him for that.

“The Affair” thoughts, Season Five, Episode Nine

Do I think “The Affair” set out to tell a #MeToo story from the start, before the #MeToo movement existed? No. But the pieces have been there all along. If it took until now for the show to look back and put those pieces together, that doesn’t make the resulting picture any less real.

Noah can be a good father, as Helen insists he has been. He can do his best to be a good man, as he has insisted time and time again — going so far as confessing to a crime he didn’t commit in order to protect Helen. He can even be the victim of opportunists like Sasha, who care only about the accusations insofar as they can be exploited for personal gain.

But Noah has been a bull in the china shop of women’s lives for a long time. All “The Affair” is doing now is surveying the damage.

I reviewed this week’s episode of The Affair for the New York Times.

“Mr. Robot” thoughts, Season Four, Episode Three: “403 Forbidden”

Risk is the essence of romance. A wise woman told me that once; I live with her now, so I’m inclined to believe she knew what she was talking about. Exposed and vulnerable, we reach out to another person and hope they’ll reach back. We put ourselves at their mercy in hopes of connection. In some cases, we put ourselves at the mercy of a world that will punish us for that connection should it be discovered. There is some pain we suffer gladly because it’s the vessel in which pleasure comes.

Titled “403 Forbidden” — like every episode title so far, it’s both an internet error message and a signpost for the story — this installment of “Mr. Robot” has both the series’s protagonist and antagonist putting themselves at risk in romance’s name. In one case, it leads to disaster. In another … well, the season isn’t over yet.

I reviewed this week’s episode of Mr. Robot for the New York Times.

New column alert!

I’ve started a new column about film called My Favorite Movies, which will cover exactly that. The inaugural installment: Eyes Wide Shut. It’s available for my Patreon subscribers at the $5/month tier. I hope you dig it!

With that in mind I’ve experimented with making my pro wrestling column, Sweeping Up the Eyeballs, free this week. I hope you dig that too!

RIP BoiledLeather.com 2011-2019

Due to a lost credit card, a crowded inbox, a lackadaisical hosting service, and a piece-of-shit squatter, I no longer own boiledleather.com, the address of much of my A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones writing since 2011. Fortunately all the content is actually hosted at boiledleather.tumblr.com, so it’s not a total loss. I sincerely apologize for the linkrot that’s now setting in, though. I’m mortified I let this happen and gutted I can’t afford to buy the domain back from the people who snaked it out from under me.

296. SWAYZE SAVES SANTA

It’s a layup, I realize, to take your old-man-with-a-big-white-beard character and put him in red long johns for pajamas. Because it makes him look even more like Santa Claus, see? But in a way I fear that this deep in the weeds with Road House we’ve lost sight of some of its simple pleasures: butts, boobs, dudes getting punched in the face, people getting thrown through tables, explosions, a monster truck, a town full of nothing but codgers and yokels. Can we not add “Emmett dresses up like Santa Claus when he goes to sleep” to the list? Can we not savor the site of Dalton and Dr. Elizabeth Clay rescuing St. Nick from a fiery inferno? Can we not enjoy the fact that after being bodily removed from a building in the process of exploding like the Hindenburg, Emmett’s only concession to Dalton’s query about his health is to quip “I’d be fine if you’d get off of me”? You can’t keep this right jolly old elf down, try as you might. The same is true of Road House. There’s always something marvelously dumb just around the corner, if you’re willing to look.

295. Fire and water

Jimmy Reno has exactly four minutes to live when he sets off the initial explosion in Emmett’s home. Four minutes to the second. What an emotional journey that must be for him. The tension and thrill of being a sneak in the night. The firebug awe of the detonation. The bonus, unlooked for, of the secondary explosion, even bigger than the first. Stopping his getaway motorbike to laugh uproariously at Dalton, Doc, and Emmett, reveling in their powerlessness compared to his fiery prowess. The sudden shock of being knocked off his bike by a flying man. The determination to kill this man. The back and forth of their battle. The pain of incurring blows and the satisfaction of inflicting them. The sadistic delight of reminiscing about his time as a prison rapist. The moment when it all changes and he realizes he’s in trouble, deep trouble. The desperate decision to pull a gun and settle things for good and all. The rushed in-the-moment thinking that occurs when you feel you’re at immediate risk of death. The pain in his throat. Oblivion. From lighting up the night with his malice to floating face-down dead in a river, in the time it takes the Beatles to do the “na na na nanana na” part of “Hey Jude.” Take a sad song and make it wetter.

294. Whose house? Emmett’s house

Emmett’s house explodes twice: first from the explosive set by Brad Wesley’s lieutenant and bastard son (WE WILL NOT BE ACCEPTING QUESTIONS AT THIS TIME) Jimmy, and second, presumably, when the house’s oil tank or moonshine distillery or meth lab or something catches fire and goes boom. It’s a comically large explosion even by the standards set by Red Webster’s Auto Parts, which of course was a larger building and filled with natural accelerants. In the image above you can see Dalton, Doc, and Emmett fleeing as the explosion reaches its height; that should give you so me sense of the preposterous scale of the thing.

Sometimes when I play Minecraft with my children I’ll build an entire structure out of TNT blocks, just so it’ll blow up bigger when I light it on fire. It’s easy to wonder if Emmett did the same with his sad little house, waiting for the day when his sins, whatever they are, came due for repayment.

The Boiled Leather Audio Hour #95: Chapter Analysis: Theon I, The Winds of Winter

Stefan and I are starting a series of Boiled Leather Audio Hour episodes going in-depth on each of the available sample chapters from The Winds of Winter, starting with a look at Theon I!

“Watchmen” thoughts, Season One, Episode One: “It’s Summer and We’re Running Out of Ice”

It’s wild!

No, seriously, it really is wild. It reminds me, in a good way, of some of the most far-out episodes of Lindelof’s Leftovers run—the ones where Justin Theroux near-death-hallucinates that he’s an international assassin, say, or the one where Christopher Eccleston talks to God on a weird cult’s orgy boat before God gets mauled to death by a lion. Where Moore and Gibbons’s Watchmen eased you into its world’s weirdness—which to be fair was orders of magnitude less weird than either the Marvel or DC shared universes of which it served as a critique—Lindelof and director Nicole Kassell dump you into the deep end and expect you to do the butterfly, with the aggressive and eerie music of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross blaring in the background.

I reviewed the series premiere of Watchmen for Decider, where I’ll be covering the show all season. It’s good!

293. Shirtlessly Smoking

Shirtlessly smoking
His surgeon, she’s standing nearby
Awaiting a word
Gasping at glimpses
Of bottomless buttocks
He runs, wishing he could fly
Only to leap when the house blows sky-high

Wordlessly watching
He waits by the window
For Wesley
That’s the JC Penney guy
Anxious for Emmett and arson explosions
He worries
Did Wade wish him goodbye? Or call him mijo?

They are one cooler
They are two alone
They are three together
They are for the road house

Bound from the barn loft
And bounce by the hay bales to rescue
Your beardy landlord first
Dalton is diving
He’s down to defend from the danger
Maybe rip out throats
And choke them with their blood

They are one cooler
They are two alone
They are three together
They are for the road house

292. Body language

This is Dalton when he has nothing to do but fume. His muscles are taut, arms crossed fussily across his abdomen. His head juts forward, neck straining, jaw tight as he vents his frustration and rage. There’s nothing else for him to do right now—just vent, impotently, at his girlfriend. His body is like one huge knot.

This is Dalton in action. His landlord Emmett’s house has just exploded and he’s leaping to the rescue from his second-story window. But he moves not like someone who needs to brace himself for a fall, but gracefully, soaring rather than falling. His arms are wide, his legs angled just so, his hair flowing in the breeze. Faced with a physical problem, he moves toward a solution like a dancer hitting his marks. This is Dalton as he is meant to be. His body responds to the call of duty just as much as his mind.