Word: scripting
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...script, by Tina and Lester Pine, is not much more than a revival of the old tenement texts of the '30s. When it comes apart, it is repaired by the star -and by Miguel Alejandro and Ruben Figueroa. As Popi's boys, they are not kids but brittle, wizened old men who pay for survival in the slums with bits and pieces of their most valuable possession. For, as Popi sadly illustrates, the real crime on the streets is not riots or muggings. It is the stealing of childhood from children...
...opponents of conglomerates tell it, the usual takeover scenario is a melodramatic affair involving a helpless target company and an unscrupulous interloper. The script has been scrambled in the case of Akron's B. F. Goodrich and its ardent but so far unsuccessful suitor, Northwest Industries. The rubber company's public relations and legal fight against Northwest's four-month-old takeover bid has been waged so well that, even though it is not yet over, it is looked upon as a classic corporate counteroffensive against an unwanted but aggressive merger partner...
...they were waiting for a revelation. Death of a Gunfighter is not it. In a town settling into the 20th century, stallions mix with horseless carriages and Mazda bulbs compete with gaslight. The contrast of periods is minor compared with the clutch of anachronisms offered by the script. Among them: police brutality, strained race relations, the lowly role of the Jew in society, adolescent sex, and finally the message, delivered by the county sheriff: "Frank Patch is your conscience, and you're afraid...
...relations deteriorate. The compulsive winner becomes a perpetual loser-until the day of the big one, the Indy 500. Director James Goldstone even manages to make a wreck of the most celebrated American auto race. Progress is as circular and unsurprising as the movement of a minute hand; the script is reminiscent of a radio play, with an announcer booming: "It's a different Frank Capua out there today!" When the film casts a sociological eye, it is toward such riddled targets as baton-twirling teeny-boppers and accident-hungry spectators...
Called upon to deliver lines like "Saji says you play a mean sitar," Brown is frequently thrown for a loss by the script and the lazy incompetence of the direction. He nevertheless emerges with comparatively few scars and no crippling injuries. Still, patience is far rarer in audiences than in performers. Kenner is the third Brown film released so far this year (others: Riot, 100 Rifles), and viewers by this time may have grown justifiably weary of watching him in histrionic training...