He’s a cop. It’s a dirty job…but somebody’s got to take out the garbage.
Gino Felino is a cop from Brooklyn whose partner, Bobby Lupo, was just murdered on the street by a drug-addicted sociopath named Richie Madano, who tossed a Polaroid of Bobby ramming some naked chick from behind onto the dead man’s chest, which astute witnesses might concur has something to do with it. The brutality and brazenness of the crime has Gino on a personal vendetta to find the killer – who was also a childhood friend – and put an end to him…one way or the other. His relentless pursuit of Richie leads him all over the streets of Brooklyn – from mafia-owned restaurants to Italian delis to a handful of bars and nightclubs. Gino only has one question on his mind: “Anybody seen Richie?” And while Gino continues his search, the Brooklyn mafia embark on a search of their own, eager to find Richie before Gino does for fear their ties to the drug-addled crazyman will bring a rain of shit down on their heads. All during this, Gino saves a puppy, repairs his marriage, almost plays catch with his son, and drops six 1991 dollars on seltzer that he never drinks. Finally, after pleading with Richie’s parents – people Gino have known since he was just a young, pony-tailed, whispering bad-ass – Gino zeroes in on Richie’s location and proceeds to take him out. FOR JUSTICE.
Out for Justice was directed by John Flynn, who was also responsible for the Stallone vehicle Lock Up, the underrated Rolling Thunder, and Brainscan…the movie where Frank Langella played a computer demon or something. Screenwriter David Lee Henry (who is one “Lucas” away from being a serial killer) contributed the script, and though he only ever wrote five scripts during his career, they consisted of this, a Charles Bronson pic where he vice-grips a man’s nuts for something like 37 Mississippi seconds, and the immortal and totally ridiculous Roadhouse. He wins.
There’s no denying or getting around the fact that Out for Justice is triumphantly stupid. But that’s okay, because that’s a big part of what this column is all about. (If you’ve been waiting to see Die Hard appear within the confines of this column, don’t hold your breath – Die Hard is too…good.) With absolutely no plot to speak of, the film consists of Gino walking from place to place demanding to know if its occupants have seen Richie, and then handing everyone their asses once they inevitably begin mouthing off – especially those who insist Gino wouldn’t be so tough “without that badge and gun.” Every so often, Gino will cease his dogged pursuit to spend time with his wife/ex-wife/I have no idea, or his son, or Jerry Orbach. And while doing so, he’ll wax philosophic about how hard his job is and how he’s unable to shake it when he comes home and gives his wife accida. But no need to worry – he gets back to the requisite number of ass-kickings pretty much immediately. What could be considered a plot for Out for Justice is so simple that it sounds like something a child would concoct on the fly, spurred by a curious parent asking him increasingly probing questions about it:
“What’s your new story about, Junior?”
“It’s about a boy named Richie who hurts another boy named Bobby because Bobby kissed Richie’s girlfriend, and then Bobby’s friend Gino tries to find Richie to talk to him about it.”
“What else happens?”
“Gino finds a puppy in a bag.”
“Where’d the puppy come from?”
“It got throwned out a window.”
“What does Gino do then?”
“He tries to find Richie again.”
“How does he do that?”
“He asks Richie’s friends if anybody seen him.”
“What does Gino do after?”
“Gino goes to talk to Richie’s mommy and daddy and tattles on him.”
“What does Gino do once he finds Richie?”
“He fucking destroys him.”
And that’s where Out for Justice really shines: the violence. There’s no more complex way to put it other than: the violence in Out for Justice is really…painful looking. And I know that goes without saying, but, compared to this column’s previous film, Demolition Man (which was essentially an R-rated cartoon), the violence in Out for Justice is intensely hard-edged. Dudes don’t just get punched in the face or their arms twisted…they get thrown through multiple car windows, or their hands are split in half by meat cleavers, or their faces are smashed by pool balls. And yeah, they totally brought it on themselves, but man…I felt really, really bad for some of them.
Out for Justice is also hilariously “Brooklyn.” It’s so Brooklyn there’s a scene where Bobby’s young daughter asks her mother to buy her a hotdog and her mother responds “Fughettabout it!” It’s so Brooklyn that “No Sleep Till Brooklyn” plays in a scene where Gino is driving…around Brooklyn. And since Brooklyn equals Italian, people toss random, non-subtitled slang words at each other, whose meanings remain anonymous, but if it’s an Italian saying it, it’s probably something racist that sounds really romantic. (Don't tell at me; I'm Italian.)
The more astute viewer will catch an array of “before they were famous” cameos from the likes of Titus Welliver (The Town), Kane Hodder (Jason from several Friday the 13th sequels), and the heavily tattooed Robert LaSardo, who has played henchmen in all kinds of flicks, including The Professional. Oh, and fans of The Sopranos will recognize Uncle Junior as Richie’s father (Dominic Chianese). He’s probably responsible for the best performance in this thing, but, that’s not saying much.
THE GOOD GUY
Gino “Cappuccino” Felino. Brooklyn native. Wearer of berets. Rescuer of garbage bag puppies. Refuter of prostitutes. Patronizer of sidewalk cooler vendors. Broken record. Amateur dentist.
Steven Seagal was a box-office draw from the very start of his acting career, beginning with 1988’s Above the Law. He’d established a good working relationship with Warner Bros., who released more of his theatrical films than any other studio (including his directorial debut, the ludicrous On Deadly Ground), and he produced all of his own projects, beginning with his very first, which is unheard of for an unknown. But after this fifteen-year ride, Seagal found himself in direct-to-video oblivion, where, outside of stunt-casting like Machete or The Onion Movie, he’s been ever since. One of the last remaining holdouts to appear in an Expendables entry, citing bad blood between “some of those guys” (Van Damme and producer Avi Lerner), Seagal, sadly, hasn’t made a film that could be considered good since 1996’s Executive Decision (which doesn’t really count considering he was the Janet Leigh of the first act). His very difficult personality, his too-hands-on approaches to his films, and his rather rough shooting style (he punches and kicks all those stunt guys for real) have hindered his career and relegated him to the Redbox. His very strange physical transformation over the years (the extra pounds, the strange shoe-polish hair) and his…er…cultural transformation – he’s been trying to convince everyone he’s Cajun – has him so far removed from the Seagal of old that no one really knows what to do with him except for the same old low-budget thing.
In Out for Justice, for the second time in his career, Seagal inexplicably finds himself playing an Italian from Brooklyn, which means we are blessed with the Irish/Jewish pony-tailed actor trying on his best grease-ball accent with hilarious results. He manages a “fughettabout it!” himself, along with a random dropping of “cetriolo,” the meaning of which you’ll have to Google if you’re that curious. To be fair, his dark skin and slicked back hair give off the false impression that he’s Sicilian, or perhaps Native American, but he’s neither: motherfucker was born in Michigan.
I know! Boring!
The legends and rumors about Seagal make for intensely interesting reading, but the below ranks among my favorite: recollections of his brief appearance on SNL, and how utterly uncomfortable he made everyone feel:
Julia Sweeney said: “When we pitched our ideas for Seagal at our Monday meeting, he gave us some of his own sketch ideas. And some of his sketch ideas were so heinous, but so hilariously awful, it was like we were on Candid Camera. He had this idea that he’s a therapist and he wanted Victoria Jackson to be his patient who’s just been raped. And the therapist says, ‘You’re going to have to come to me twice a week for like three years,’ because, he said, ‘that’s how therapists freaking are. They’re just trying to get your money.’ And then he says that the psychiatrist tries to have sex with her.”
(Read a lot more of these anecdotes here.)
Still, personality aside, there’s no denying that in his prime, Seagal had a commanding screen presence, and his interesting physical appearance and somewhat anonymous ethnicity allowed him to slip into different kinds of roles. While guys like Arnold and Sly relied on their impeccably chiseled bodies to achieve their status as action icons, Seagal, who never bulked up for any of his films and maintained an average if not wiry frame, instead relied on his knowledge of martial arts, namely aikido, to present something on-screen a lot of his contemporaries weren’t utilizing.
Seagal’s biggest claim to fame came in the form of 1992’s Under Siege, directed by The Fugitive's Andrew Davis, which not only resulted in a fun action offering, but a legitimately good film, due in part to the maniacal villainous performance by Tommy Lee Jones. The film did well enough to earn a sequel, 1995’s adolescent Under Siege 2: Dark Territory, and perhaps, if the admittedly untrustworthy Seagal is to be believed, a possible Under Siege 3, which would see Casey Ryback taking on…aliens. In an interview with MTV, Seagal was quoted as saying, “I personally want it to be something more modern. I wouldn’t mind if it was about something more mystical or…maybe extraterrestrial in nature. Some real government top secrets instead of just the typical.”
Fat Steven Seagal is one thing, but a fat, direct-to-video Casey Ryback fighting aliens isn’t something I’m eager to see.
In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Seagal….is a shitty actor. And I know it’s easy to label most of our action icons from yesteryear as shit actors, but if we’re being fair, it’s because many of those icons found it difficult, as they were foreign-born, to find a way to perform their way through their accents. Many of Van Damme’s films had him playing someone either in or from New Orleans’ French Quarter to explain why he sounded so mush-mouthed; same for Arnold, who found himself being consistently labeled as Austrian, East German, and even Russian. (C’mon, except for Arnold Schwarzenegger, have you ever met, seen, or heard anyone else who sounds remotely like that? Maybe Werner Herzog.) In this regard, Seagal was spared, as his lineage didn’t saddle him with an insurmountable accent that would come to define him. But, the point is, it wouldn’t have really mattered: he’s not a good actor. Though he certainly attempts to infuse Gino “Maraschino” Felino with exuberance and enthusiasm, it comes across as so over-the-top and silly that you sort of shrink back a bit. But I ask you: when’s the last time you watched a Seagal film for his performance, and not his ability to squint at the camera, whisper all his lines, and snap someone’s spine in three places?
THE BAD GUY
Richie Madano. Crack-smoker. Ultimate road-rager. Ventriloquism dummy lookalike. Non-supporter of a woman’s right to self-improve. Provider of broads. Packer of pounds.
Character actor William Forsythe plays assholes in his sleep – that’s how good he is, and how often he does it. In Out for Justice he is completely unhinged, a crack-head maniac. He plays an even viler and slimier asshole here than he does in Rob Zombie’s Halloween, and that’s saying something. He gives 110%, and though his character is entirely overbearing, the film could have benefited from featuring more of him. Sadly, at Seagal’s insistence, much of Forsythe’s contributions were cut from the film because his performance was so good Seagal was afraid of being upstaged (according to IMDB, anyway, which is about as sure-footed and credible as Donald Trump on fire).
Speaking of Seagal enforcing creative control, if you’re wondering about that awful montage in the second act where cops storm bars and Gino talks heatedly with people but no one knows what the fuck anyone is saying because of the awful music playing over it all, this was another instance of Seagal exerting his producer power, claiming that to see all these scenes play out as intended would have been too boring.
THE CASUALTIES
A lot of men’s knees touch the ground, which some would argue equals a death. When it’s at the hands of Seagal, it’s safe to assume that those guys whose knees have been grounded aren’t getting back up again, especially since Seagal is technically playing a cop, and cops just don’t get to kill as many dudes without consequences as we’d like (because this film doesn’t take place in the 21st century).
So, having said that, Gino “Il Postino” Felino unleashes the following body hurt: a pimp gets his head smashed through a car window, thrown over some barrels, and then heaved through a windshield; dudes in a deli get a meat cleaver to the knee and hand, face-smashed against the floor, crushed Adams apple and ball-sac, broken arms, beaten with a bat, and beaten in the head with a pepperoni; a whole gaggle of dudes in a bar get pushed to the ground, punched in the face, cracked in the head with a pool-ball-stuffed towel, punched in the balls, and supremely fucking disrespected; five home-invaders get shot and one thrown one out a window; five dudes get blown away by shotguns (one of them getting a leg entirely sheered off); and one dude gets his face smashed against a brick wall (same dude who gets the honor of “the best kill”).
As for the bad guy, well, Richie shoots: Bobby Lupo six times in the chest; an innocent (female) bystander point-blank in the face because Richie wouldn’t move his “god damn car”; a wheelchair-bound auto mechanic in the chest; and a bunch of mafia henchmen.
THE BEST KILL
Technically not a kill, but an asshole in a bar gets smashed in the face with that aforementioned pool-ball-stuffed towel and spits four teeth out onto the pool table. After attempting to regain his pride with a meager “Motherfucker, you knocked my teeth out” and lunges for Gino in another attack, Gino smashes him in the face with that pool ball. Again.
THE DAMAGE
What, for Gino? Fughettabout it! I’m pretty sure Seagal has it in his contract that he can’t appear even remotely weak in any of his films, so literally nothing happens to him until the very end when he gets grazed by a bullet, from which he very quickly recovers and proceeds to take his revenge. No one lands a punch or a kick, no one scratches him with a knife, no one shouts loudly in his ears. Even an adorable puppy gets thrown out a car window, but Gino gets off easy with a bullet wound he can’t even fucking feel. Massive egos tend to make one superhuman.
THE BAD GUY’S COMEUPPANCE
When it comes time for Gino vs. Richie, the latter has no chance. Gino tosses him around a kitchen like a fat rag doll, disarming him of knives, pans, and whatever other random things he picks up to defend himself with. It’s all rather (and typically) emasculating for a Seagal character – a total hyperbolic castration – before Gino finally ends the madness by stabbing Richie through the brain with a corkscrew and then firing several bullets into his chest.
THE LINE
In what almost amounted to a throwaway scene with Gino driving down the street, a random prostitute calls through his window as he passes by, “Wanna fuck?” leading Gino to laugh uproariously. He then drives up to some homeless men and asks them, “Did you hear what she just said?”and one of them shouts, “What’d she say, my man?” Gino drives away, still laughing, without answering.
I am 100% convinced that this scene was not scripted, and a random hooker totally propositioned Seagal for a fuck, leading him to break character. To be honest, even if this scene were scripted, please…just let me have this.
I’m also really partial to “Whose hot dog is this, eh?” and, of course, “Anybody seen Richie? I’m gonna keep comin’ back until someone REMEMBERS seein’ Richie!”
THE VERDICT
Steven Seagal has made exactly one “good” film in his career in which he was the lead, and that honor will always go to Under Siege. But as for his most entertaining, his most ridiculous, and perhaps his most violent, look no further than Out for Justice.
And do let me know if anybody seen Richie.
