Word: tins
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Cowboy Gangs. The new role of ARVN in the war has wrought many changes in South Vietnamese life. On the shabby tin huts outside the base at Cu Chi, which was turned over to the South Vietnamese in 1970, the signs in English that used to hawk steambaths and massage parlors have been only partially covered over by messages in Vietnamese tuned to ARVN needs and tastes: cheap gifts, laundry services and sinh-to, the Vietnamese variation of Orange Julius...
...alive," recalls Flip's brother Lemuel, a carpenter in Jersey City. "I used to steal Christmas trees so we'd have one on Christmas." In those days Flip was a quick, thin child with a runny nose and a big appetite; his brothers and sisters called him "Tin Can" because he ate so much. He used to hang around the fire station on his block, gagging it up with idle firemen. "He was always joking, always funny," says Fireman Ed Dawson...
...Quentin belongs in American folklore as the kind of place where George Raft and a thousand other cons would pound their tin cups to scare the screws, a Cagneyesque sort of stir with even a certain nostalgic romance about it. Its reality, of course, has always been bleaker. Before Warden Clinton Duffy took over in 1940 and turned "Q" for a time into a model for penal reform, the vast sand-colored fortress on San Francisco Bay offered sadistic guards, shaved heads, the airless "hole" for solitary, dinner out of buckets and a gallows painted baby blue. But then...
...maze of information about reflections mirrored in opposites," begins the caption to his punningly titled Wizdumb Bridge, 1969, and the declaration fits the imagery, which manages to be both specific and curiously vague. The cracked concrete is Wiley's studio floor, the tipped-over paint tin that spreads its river beneath the "bridge" is an everyday accident. But the sum effect is a crazy quilt of potentially familiar objects, a mosaic of recollection that is suggested but eludes the viewer. In this way, Wiley manages to endow something as banal as a wooden stump with a tantalizing load...
...fatal flaw in the scheme is Writer-Director Richard Brooks, whose previous films (The Blackboard Jungle, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, In Cold Blood) were notable for a kind of insistent pretension unembellished by visual style or intellectual depth. In $ (yes, that's the title), Brooks is not content to make a straight caper movie, which his script might have supported. Instead, he guns for philosophical commentary...