DVD Review: El Dorado (1966) -- The Paramount Centennial Collection

New From Paramount Centennial Collection

In the oft-cited famous story of Hawksian lore, when Howard Hawks contacted Robert Mitchum about the possibility of making a movie together and an interested Mitchum took the bait and fished for the plot-- Hawks reeled him in telling the actor that, “There’s no story. You and Duke play two old cowboys.”

However, their perception of the film differed upon its completion with Robert Mitchum confessing that—truth be told-- El Dorado “was all character development,” whereas the traditionally anti-analytical Hawks had second thoughts, revealing in the notes of this Paramount Centennial Collection 2-Disc DVD that in all actuality there ended up being a pretty good plot (courtesy of Leigh Brackett’s crackerjack script) “even though it wanders around.”

For, in the familiar terrain of Hawksian male bonding pictures of “professional courtesy” even for one’s rivals-- along with a strong female character who’s one of the boys and the mentor/protégé relationship of pairing a cynical and wise man (usually Duke Wayne) with a naïve but earnest youngster--you can most definitely-- as he shares, “let a thing wander around.”

And despite the fact that Howard Hawks seemed to master every genre from the gangster picture with Scarface to the screwball comedy with Bringing Up Baby to the film noir with The Big Sleep-- making in fact very few westerns in comparison to the era’s most famous genre director John Ford (with whom he shared John Wayne countless times) -- it's his westerns that have become especially beloved over the years.

While my favorite Howard Hawks western is undoubtedly Red River starring John Wayne in the role he frequently stated made Ford finally realize that he could actually act alongside the irreplaceable Montgomery Clift-- Hawks' biggest hits seem to be the ones that blended together all of the elements from his previous genre pictures like the slapstick of Baby to the professionalism of Only Angels Have Wings to the sultry dames played by Lauren Bacall in movies such as The Big Sleep.

And to this end in 1959, Hawks made his most rousingly entertaining western with Rio Bravo (again starring The Duke and penned by Brackett) which was originally envisioned as a right-wing response picture to their distaste for the Gary Cooper classic High Noon which Hawks and Wayne found downright un-American (for more on this subject, read my essay on the films here).

Containing what can arguably be considered Dean Martin's best on-screen performance as an alcoholic law man driven to drink due to trouble with a woman (a frequent plot device), Rio Bravo found Martin teaming with veteran tough Wayne, the kid “Colorado” (Ricky Nelson), and a disabled Stumpy (Walter Brennan) to take down a ruthless villain.

After a couple of flops and although Hawks vehemently denied the claim, he remade the film for a second of what would eventually be three times (resulting in their final western together, Rio Lobo) via 1966’s El Dorado which began filming in ’65 but was ultimately released in ‘67.

In doing so, he returned to the same Old Tucson location set where he’d filmed Bravo years earlier complete with those smaller buildings that made the tall actors look even larger than life. Additionally he reworked the earlier premise with the help of Brackett who (along with Wayne) had actually wanted to be more faithful to novelist Harry Brown’s darker, Greek-tragedy inspired western book The Stars in their Courses but they ultimately abandoned most of the literary source material in favor of something Hawks considered far more entertaining.

A classically structured western and one that—as the antithesis to the increasingly dark but brilliant works of Ford (like my personal Wayne/Ford favorite The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance) that didn’t give Wayne a whole lot to do—Hawks' film used a far more comedic, fast-paced structure that true to form, Hawks would add to on-shoot sitting in his chair and rewriting lines on yellow legal pads during filming.

As cinema scholar, filmmaker, and indeed commentary track contributor Peter Bogdanovich revealed--in one of two commentary tracks included on El Dorado’s most recent Paramount release—Hawks, who didn’t direct actors too much other than telling them to just pick up the pace, never wanted to linger over action and preferred to instead making his violence fast and economical without lingering over it, for example in the way that era’s up-and-comer Sam Peckinpah did in The Wild Bunch.

This is evidenced throughout the rather simple tale of Wayne’s hired gun who—upon realizing that El Dorado’s town sheriff is his old friend J.P. Harrah (Mitchum, basically taking on Dean Martin’s Bravo role)—turns down the offer to work for Ed Asner’s greedy land owner who’s violently strong-arming the local MacDonald family.

After gunplay erupts and time passes, Wayne’s Cole Thornton and his new knife-throwing vengeance-filled sidekick Mississippi (a dynamite James Caan in a better role than Nelson’s in Bravo)-- who can’t shoot a gun to save his or anyone’s life-- ultimately end up joining Harrah. With Mississippi in tow whom he’s fixed with a sawed-off shotgun to try and help even out his new friend’s weakness, Thornton returns out of friendship and loyalty when he discovers that his colleague has not only become a heartbroken “tin star with a…drunk pinned on it” but that Asner’s Bart Jason has recruited one of the best gunman in the area in the form of Christopher George’s Nelse McLeod.

While they weren’t exactly attempting to reinvent the wheel and upon its delayed release the very traditional studio picture became a surprise box office hit in the wake of a studio and Hollywood filmmaking atmosphere that had definitely begun to change to the era of ‘70s auteurs like Bogdanovich, Scorsese, Coppola, De Palma and others—it still holds up as an enormously entertaining work to this day.

Intriguingly, although he’d be crucified for it now, Hawks’ defiance of logic and geography was bold as brass throughout. In El Dorado, for the sake of a better shot, Mitchum switched which side he uses a crutch on throughout which resulted in hilarious problems in continuity that prompted a great line by former continuity expert Wayne in the final cut and likewise, he abandoned reason in having the men double back around town in a chase sequence that doesn’t really make a whole lot of geographical sense. However, in this case it's all completely forgiven.

This is owed as much to the overall excitement of the film and our reverence of all involved spouting spirited quips and undergoing some pretty great pratfalls (especially via a few humdingers by Mitchum that display his little-known comic side) as it is to the fact that Hawks was definitely right in his assertion that it’s always okay to let characters wander around. And this is especially easy to "fake" when a majority of the picture occurs at night to hide the gaffes and ratchet up the tension.

Filled with impressively lit night shots that resulted into a critical disagreement when Roger Ebert playfully suggested that Ms. Pauline Kael needed to have “her glasses scrubbed” when she penned an exaggerated complaint to the contrary, there’s a tremendous standout in the picture that finds the men slowly meandering through the streets, guns out and ready to take down a killer. However, as Bogdanovich noted it is filled with reaction shots that are more about Wayne and Mitchum’s relationship and less about getting the bad guy in the end.

In a terrific sequence that—like Dean’s in Bravo—finds Mitchum having to prove his mettle by no longer further embarrassing himself in a bar shootout—Hawks simply lets the men wander for what must have been more than a dozen minutes. In doing so, they stalk all around town, church bells are used to curious effect and despite the large absence of fast-paced jokes, they still manage to work in a great line and gag when Caan’s Mississippi “hits” a bad guy not with the gun but by shooting a sign that hits him instead.

The result is pure Hawksian western poetry (that also includes its Edgar Allan Poe namesake in the poem quoted by Caan) with its depiction of a group of male outsiders coming together to try and set things right. Additionally, much to Brackett’s credit in improving upon the role that Angie Dickinson played in Bravo, she offers not one but two superbly written characters for actresses Charlene Holt and Michele Carey, ensuring that although you’ll never mistake the look and feel of a Hawks western for the mid to late 1960s filmmaking going on elsewhere, at least on some levels (despite one horrible Asian caricature scene) the film tried to change with the time.

And in fact, the lovely Michele Carey (one in a long line of Hawks’ favored memorably voiced brunettes) actually gets the chance to legitimately become a part of the gang by the end in a great shootout that likewise includes a nice twist on Hawks’ and Duke’s thematic and conversational emphasis of “professional courtesy” in a final showdown.

El Dorado was released as part of Paramount’s ongoing 2-Disc Centennial Collection titles in tandem with their other Duke offering—John Ford’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. And while the widescreen print looks gorgeous and sounds dynamic (watching as I did in its original Mono as opposed to an enhanced Dolby Digital), in addition to the commentaries and a beautiful full-color booklet of facts and photos, the second disc features a seven-part documentary on the film along with galleries, the vintage trailer and featurette on the American west artwork included as well as a remembrance of John “Duke” Wayne.

DVD Review: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962) -- The Paramount Centennial Collection

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As the saying goes, “John Ford Made Westerns,” and it’s his four decades of doing so with The Duke that provide one of the most fascinating selections of titles for film students or ardent fans of the genre to peruse.



To a casual viewer, Duke’s persona was always that of the same uncomplicated and genuine cowboy who said “pilgrim” an awful lot (when in reality the first time this occurred was in this picture), sat tall in the saddle, and never let a wicked gunslinger get away.



However, it’s in his pictures with Ford that you can most specifically see the way that Duke’s characterization — as an extension of Ford’s attitudes regarding politics and what was happening in American society at the time — evolved over the course of their work.

Following the do-gooder subtext in Ford’s earliest work with Wayne, it wasn’t until Ford saw the man in Howard Hawks’ excellent Red River that he realized the potential his star had as an actor and he adjusted their collaborations accordingly.

And beginning in the post World War II era, the films started to become much darker as the years passed which was witnessed in the revered, violent classic The Searchers until their final feature together, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance was released in 1962 and managed to present Ford’s entire thesis in one perfect 123 minute unforgettable collection of unspooled reels of celluloid.

To quote a critic included in the excellent documentary contained within Paramount Centennial Collection’s recent 2-disc release, the irony of the film can be found directly in the title of this “anti-mythic western.” However, irony is used throughout the entire work.

Shot in black and white for what can be attributed to dozens of reasons including the aging stars playing characters far younger than they were, the cost of the film could only been green-lit by Wayne locked into an ultra-successful 10 picture deal with Paramount, etc. An intriguing aesthetic decision nonetheless, the entire point of the film goes against the visual representation in its stance that absolutely nothing is black and white.



A movie without clear-cut heroes, Ford does present us with one incredibly vicious villain in Lee Marvin’s most sadistic turn as the whip carrying Liberty Valance, but it goes even further in its opposition to the typical western paradigm — even the names are ironic as Jimmy Stewart’s character whom we initially assume is our naïve hero is named Ransom whereas the villain is Liberty.

Based on Dorothy Johnson’s short story but given a decidedly different spin, as opposed to Johnson’s presentation of what would become the Wayne character as a near “fairy godmother” who nudged Stewart’s Ransom Stoddard along and showed him the way, Wayne sees him as a romantic rival for the heart of the sweet, illiterate Hallie (Vera Miles).



Opening the film as Ransom and Hallie step off the train back in the old town of Shinbone for the funeral of Duke’s forgotten rancher Tom Doniphon, Ford and screenwriters James Warner Bellah and Willis Goldbeck already ruin the surprise of who gets the girl right from the start by introducing us to the now extremely successful couple as we discover that Ransom has gone onto become a beloved senator.



A legend back in Shinbone for having killed the notorious Liberty Valance, the structure of the film bravely works against the overused device of the flashback in an extended one as Senator Stoddard finally decides that it’s time to tell the story of his arrival in Shinbone and what really happened regarding Marvin’s crazed outlaw and his death.

Obviously, the revelation is one that’s fairly easy to predict and moreover it's one that intriguingly Variety in their 1962 review of the film notes may have worked more successfully if the narrative hadn’t given away these “current day” surprises from the start.

However I still feel it’s Ford and Wayne’s best feature. The most clear-cut and perfectly executed example of the themes that had been woven throughout the filmmaker’s career, in the end Valance still stands as a work that begs to be discussed once the final frame flickers and it cuts to black.



Above all, it concerns itself with the difference between “legend” and “fact” and Ford’s assertion that relying squarely on books, law school, and intellect is fine in theory but in the end you have to be willing to understand that sometimes force is required to fight for what’s right.

And in the film, we’re introduced to Stoddard’s arrival as a law school graduate who decided to literally “go west young man” only to find himself nearly killed upon his arrival by Marvin’s grinning psychopath.



While Stoddard refuses to let others fight his battles for him and tries to get law and then the newspaper on his side before he helps educate the townsfolk and rally them in the quest for statehood, the tough minded Doniphon isn’t content to let Valance walk all over Stoddard as well as the rest of the town.



Realizing he’s losing his unspoken but — on his end — understood “claim” that Hallie is his girl when she finds Stoddard's willingness to have stood up to Valance on behalf of an old woman brave, we watch as Duke’s heart slowly breaks and understand when he makes a decision to act to ensure her happiness even if it will cost him his own.

However, it’s still Wayne, therefore Ford refuses to turn him or anyone into a teddy bear as despite himself, some of Doniphon's actions as well as Stoddard’s go against the two men’s “types” brilliantly in the eyes of filmgoers who felt they knew everything about Stewart and Wayne based on the roles they’d played in the past.

While Miles admittedly doesn’t have all that much to work with since after all she’s a woman in a western, it’s especially surprising to watch again this time around. For although it’s the legend of Doniphon’s actions and Wayne’s picture that is used in the foreground of the box and most of the film’s advertising, in reality he has the least to do in the movie. Marvin easily dominates the picture and Stewart undergoes a complex and staggering evolution all in the course of one movie as opposed to the Duke’s career with Ford over four decades.



Also elevating the work are Woody Strode as Doniphon’s devoted sidekick Pompey and especially Edmond O’Brien’s dignified turn as a never-say-die newspaper man Dutton Peabody, who gets the chance to shine in the film’s most exquisite cinematographic shot as he turns off his lamp and crosses the street before returning, illuminating it once more to find Valance and his goons are there.

An American classic, Valance is one of the most surprising westerns ever offered by the genre and one that I guarantee will interest even those who wouldn’t necessarily categorize themselves as “western fans.” Ford’s influence in using filmmaking cleverly to remind viewers that life is far more complicated than a cowboy in a white hat and one in a black hat (despite its tongue-in-cheek usage of this same imagery with Wayne vs. Marvin) makes The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance an ideal choice for Paramount’s Centennial Collection.

The edition features dual commentary tracks, including a feature length one with Peter Bogdanovich that contains archived interview recordings with Ford and Stewart as well as a selected scene audio track introduced by Dan Ford also containing archival recordings of Ford, Stewart, and Marvin. The set's second disc also contains the original trailer, galleries as well as a seven part featurette entitled “The Size of Legends." Hands down, a terrific buy for Father's Day, this collection is sure to be of interest to those who cherish the picture and/or the talented individuals involved.

Music Documentary DVD Review: 'Tis Autumn: The Search for Jackie Paris (2005)

Note: Originally Published in Jen's P.O.V. which hosts all Music DVD, CD, and Misc. Reviews.

The Search Arrives on DVD
3/31/09

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Long before the advent of Google searches, Wikipedia, MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, or YouTube-- when someone wanted to learn more about a subject, they had to venture to enormous buildings like libraries and stores which housed big, heavy, dust collecting, paper filled items called books.

And, of course, the mother of all texts--reliability-wise-- was a reference book or an encyclopedia as surely, the authors would have to fact check and one would assume that unlike Wikipedia (which can be updated by anyone), everything would need to be verified... or so you would think.

In 1991 Oscar nominated and Sundance award-winning filmmaker and jazz musician Raymond De Felitta found himself in awe of an unfamiliar voice crooning on a local radio station playing Charles Mingus' Paris in Blue. Simply put, De Felitta was hooked.

Mesmerized by what he’d heard, De Felitta set about tracking down every recording he could of the jazz singer Jackie Paris that resulted in obscure discoveries such as Japanese imports of classic albums including one misfiled under the name of Oscar Peterson. In addition to the the musical side, he also yearned to uncover more about the musician with pitch-perfect phrasing.

The biographical trail of Jackie Paris moved from hot to cool in the 1960s as the British Invasion made jazz a figurative musical dinosaur. And following that all information regarding Paris's life journeyed from cool to frozen in the 1970s when decades later, De Felitta read in a well-respected jazz-centric biographical encyclopedia that stated that Jackie Paris had died in 1977, while only in his early 50s.

Upon this newly acquired information, the filmmaker was content with what De Felitta referred to as his collection of “the handful of CDs and vinyl that comprised the meager but glorious output of Paris's career,” which included his signature rendition of “Skylark”-- his most famous and swoony work. And moreover, essentially to De Felitta the story of Jackie Paris seemed to end there in the all-too familiar jazz ending of death with more of the man's soul being captured on vinyl than in the history books.

However, his fascination with the Italian-American, New Jersey native who grew up entertaining, tap dancing and singing with a veritable who’s who of jazz legends (including Charlie Parker with whom sadly he never recorded any material despite a six month tour) never waned. Likewise, De Felitta became the latest in a long line of fans.



And even later he ascertained that Paris’s allegiance of admirers also had included the loftiest of greats from the era: Peggy Lee, who had arranged an elaborate audition for Jackie Paris with a major label; Lenny Bruce who helped him perfect his stage presence and humor as his opening act in one of the documentary’s most fascinating discoveries as a letter penned by Bruce is read aloud; musician Billy Vera who dubbed Paris “Chet Baker times ten”; later referred to as “the kissy singer” by Sarah Vaughan; as well as being called the personal favorite singer of Ms. Ella Fitzgerald.

Yet while his envious musical resume and near jazz-version of the six degrees of Kevin Bacon which linked him in roughly three degrees or less with every major recording artist in his jazz heyday was epic, De Felitta received the greatest shock when thirteen years following the first time he’d heard Paris’s voice over the speakers of his car, he learned that the “dead” singer was anything but.

When De Felitta happened upon a brief New Yorker magazine notice featuring club dates for the local Jazz Standard in 2004 with the name of Jackie Paris as the main attraction, he was stunned. “Jackie Paris? The one who died in 1977? How is he singing? Via a Ouija board?” De Felitta wondered but taking the chance, he decided to go.

Once he landed inside The Standard, he realized that “Paris was alive -- not exactly well, but still handsome and charismatic. And he was in fine form, singing a set that included three of my favorites...”although, while Jackie Paris politely but crisply dismissed him --which led De Felitta to the realization that "not all was peaceful in Parisland,” when he ventured back again the following evening, Paris started to warm up. Much to his amazement, Jackie Paris spoke to him in earnest between sets wherein he confessed that “he was terminally ill” and that therefore, this was probably his final gig.

In response, De Felitta went into overdrive blending together both the roles of fan and filmmaker and wanting to record it as a legacy “to bring the world's attention [to] the singer whose work I'd found so compellingly beautiful.” To this end, “working with borrowed video equipment,” he spent seven weeks with Paris before the man passed away on June 14 of the same year.

However, what started as a “tribute film,” filled with reminisces, interviews, and other accounts from both Paris himself along with others with whom he’s played, lived and loved whose phone numbers and addresses the musician graciously offered the filmmaker soon became a bit more of a mystery as De Felitta changed the approach from an introduction to one that took a more analytical stance.

Dedicating more energy to his new thesis of why Jackie Paris had become as the film's tag-line described “the greatest singer you've never heard,” De Felitta went to unprecedented lengths to address just why the man was always on the brink of stardom but repeatedly fell into obscurity.



Although he never really arrives at a set conclusion, several possible reasons are given in this fascinating piece of musical documentary portraiture which serves up the usual suspects as well as a decidedly different side to the man we’re consistently faced with throughout. Admirably he takes Jackie at his word and never probed him directly even though he had evidence to the contrary about some issues with which the man was less than forthcoming.

Yet, meanwhile De Felitta introduces us to two very different women who were both at one point Mrs. Jackie Paris, along with relatives, a denied son, etc. as we’re faced with tales of ego, temper, deep-rooted family dysfunction (in the form of a devastating account of his brother and abusive father), along with questions of whether refusing mafia support of his career or slugging the wrong club owner who was most likely "connected" always kept him from the top.

Overall, this routinely makes for a mesmerizing film that evolves much like an improvised jazz riff throughout its changes in tempo where some are successful with only a few rough patches in editing as we remain a bit foggy about some of the facts like we’d had a sax blaring too close to our eardrum for a bit.

However, the one issue that remains a subtext that's only vaguely questioned by De Felitta in his voice over narration at the end when quoting Orson Welles is just how much we need to know about artists to dig their work. And, likewise, whether or not the “search” for Jackie Paris was really a mystery in the end if he was happily living under the radar, definitely bitter about wasted potential, missed opportunities, and lack of money but essentially okay in his New York life.



This is especially the case since—while I’m incredibly grateful for De Felitta’s passion, compassion, and integrity in introducing a wonderful overlooked talent to a new generation—ultimately, I feel nearly as confused as I was near the beginning and still have just as many questions about Paris as I had from the middle of the picture to when the final credits began to roll.

This being said, the intent and style shown by De Felitta is warm and inviting. And it's what carries us through the work, despite the mysterious head-scratching footage we’re sometimes shown with contradictory interviews and a few loose ends that seem like they were left abandoned on the floor of the cutting room such as the discussion of a “wife?” who died of cancer and then talk of a divorce enters in the same sentence and a few interviewees aren’t identified at all. Yet this is all easy to overlook as soon as Jackie Paris’s astounding voice fills the soundtrack and when you couple this with the exquisite care he took towards his subject, De Felitta’s ‘Tis Autumn is a great find for jazz fans and documentary lovers alike.

Nominated for the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival, De Felitta’s Search marks his strongest work since I first discovered his overlooked, Sundance Audience Award winning sleeper Two Family House which is not only a personal indie favorite—but much like this film—a highly personal work for the director and one in which his passion is so infectious that I selected it without hesitation for inclusion in a local film series I ran in our community.

And similarly--just like House had people nodding along to the music in their seats—‘Tis Autumn will definitely make you want to rush out and track down the music you can find by the musician… if, that is, there’s still any left in print here in the United States. So in other words, our “musical” Search for Jackie Paris continues.

The Dukes (2008)

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Fans of classic Italian films including Monicelli's Big Deal on Madonna Street and the spirit of Fellini's partner in crime-- the female Italian Chaplin who never said die-- Giulietta Masina (as evidenced in Nights of Cabiria), will be drawn to the directorial debut of opera trained singer and actor Robert Davi.

Co-written by Davi and James Andronica, The Dukes-- an old-fashioned independent work that wears both its heart and its Italian influences proudly on its sleeve-- has earned accolades at film festivals around the globe as well as a standing ovation where it screened as an official selection at the prestigious Rome Film Festival. Releasing exclusively in New York City on November 14 before opening in a wider, yet still limited release, it's one of those undeniable people-movers like The Station Agent and Return to Me that will grow in recognition from grassroots and word-of-mouth campaigns once enough people begin to catch on.

Initially, the storyline was hatched in the '70s during the time of an American recession that found countless blue-collar Americans out-of-work including Davi's own father which thematically hit the writer/director on a personal level. Although, dissimilar to some of the dark, antihero laced films that reflected the disconnect of the era (like Paul Schrader's Blue Collar), Davi combined it with the Italian-American experience upon making the acquaintance of Jay Black, a widely known Doo Wop singer whose music had been rendered obsolete with the chart-topping success of stadium rock groups of the '70s.

In the press release for the Cavu Pictures and Sun Lion Films production, Davi explained that, "it wasn't just steelworkers or my father who were being [affected]... by a society changing from an industrial to a technological one-- it was also entertainers." And because "the country was going through a real metamorphosis" that made the circumstances both "personal and societal," Davi realized that he'd found precisely the right key that would unlock the script and give it "a light comic touch," by telling the story of a group of formerly successful musicians struggling to make ends meet who end up resorting to larceny.

And predictably, while they're always on-key when performing, they're completely out-of-sync when it comes to staging a robbery so they enlist the help of a veteran safe-cracker-- (Bruce Weitz) also finding it hard to pay the bills-- in their quest to steal gold out of a dental laboratory.

Yet while the first version of The Dukes was completed three decades ago-- true to its subject matter-- it took a long time for the work to get everyone in tune for the production. And Davi, working both in front of and behind the camera, surrounded himself with a terrific ensemble cast including several other double, triple and quadruple hyphenates like the playwright, actor and director Chazz Palminteri, the actor, writer, producer, and director Peter Bogdanovich and many others.

Easily falling into the likable role as arguably the sweetest Duke--Danny DePasquale--Davi charms us right from the start as the band-leader who dreams of opening his own restaurant with his best friend, band-mate and aspiring business partner George Zucco (Palminteri). Peter Bogdanovich joins the fun as Lou, their endlessly loyal manager, who thinks and speaks in percentages and "in pocket per unit" slang and refuses to give up on the Doo Wop legends, instead trying to find work for the guys along with their former opening comedy act Armond (the late Frank D'Amico) even if it means they have to play tomatoes.

Yet, despite his best efforts, unfortunately the only steady income George and Danny have is pulling shifts in the Italian trattoria owned by their Aunt Vee (Miriam Margolyes). While seductive ladies-man (or man-whore) George is content to drown his sorrows in the large fleshy arms of whatever promiscuous plus-sized woman crosses his path, when their pot-happy friend Murph (Elya Baskin) sends a plane off a runway and loses his job as an airline mechanic and Danny can't pay for his beloved son's dental needs, soon they decide to stage a heist in order to buy their own second chance at the American dream.

Filled with a wonderful soundtrack that's comprised not only of the primary Doo Wop genre which "came out of the [especially Italian] immigrant experience," that Davi likens to "the American equivalent of Neapolitan street songs," it also contains the work of Sergio Bruni, Luciano Pavarotti, and Paolo Conte, as well as a carnivalesque Nino Rota inspired score. Needless to say, midway through the film, I began writing endless underlined notes in the margins reminding myself to "look for the soundtrack." While I've yet to find one, no doubt it will be in high demand but while it's easy for some films to lace together so much wonderful music and thus become overly reliant on just the cheery nostalgic sentiment it evokes, Davi and Andronica's screenplay is equally impressive.

More specifically, it's filled with surprisingly fresh takes on familiar situations. For example, look for Palminteri watching the clock for "just five minutes" to pass after he beds a stranger and Davi following-through on a skeet-shooting alibi, just to name one. Likewise, there are great twists in the story-arc especially late in the picture that prevent it from going by-the-numbers and letting things work out a little too easily and therefore falsely for our protagonists.

While overall, it does begin as a male bonding film as the camera goes around (in a few too many) circles spinning like an out-of-control record around a table as the men converse, it's also bolstered by engaging turns from its female supporting cast including Margolyes' slightly predictable, tough old matriarch restaurateur, The Office's Melora Hardin as Danny's ex-wife as well as the likable Eloise DeJoria as a beautiful, blonde, loyal waitress hopelessly smitten by Palminteri's Geoge but ironically ignored in the Los Angeles setting because of her thin frame.

Frequently funny yet consistently relatable, especially given our current economic climate-- The Dukes is an irresistible feel-great movie that manages to tap right into the resilient, independent, prideful and tough-minded spirit of what it means to be Italian-American. Yet at the same time, Davi's film also celebrates the extraordinary beauty of the culture whether it's in our ability to put family and loyalty first or to sublimate our frustrations into perfect, sweet-sounding musical harmony.