The Tao of Swayze

Last night, my friend Ben texted me about the Patriots' come-from-behind win against the hapless Bills. He wanted to share with me the many wonders of Tom Brady. I texted back: "Can't talk right now. Patrick Swayze died." The news hit me kind of hard, although it wasn't exactly a surprise. Swayze had been battling Stage IV pancreatic cancer for more than a year. 

It was impossible to avoid Swayze as a kid. The man was practically everywhere, starring in such classics as "Red Dawn," "Youngblood," "Road House," "Dirty Dancing," "Point Break," and "Ghost," among other quality flicks. Like just about every other person of my generation, I've probably seen every Patrick Swayze movie ever made. Well, not all of them. This strikes me as odd for a number of reasons. Most notably, his movies centered around ridiculous plots, and he was kind of a bad actor, which is why almost all of his films were, in a word, fucking awesome. 

Patrick Swayze was probably the best bad actor of his generation. Although he earned three Golden Globes nominations for “Dirty Dancing,” “Ghost,” and “To Wang Fu, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar,” Swayze seemed to conquer Hollywood, however briefly his reign, in spite of his limited range as an actor. His celluloid success didn’t exactly stem from a keen sense of craft. I can’t exactly envision him, for instance, creating a back story for Bodhi or Dalton or Jed Eckert, probably because these characters were there for one reason and one reason only: to kick some ass. No, Swayze's talent existed almost exclusively in his ability to look past the underlying silliness of his characters, and just go for it. Swayze, at least for a moment, believed he was Bodhi. He believed he was Dalton. And you damn well know he believed he was Johnny Castle.

How else can you explain pulling off the following lines?

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”

“Pain don’t hurt.”

“Ditto.”

“100 percent pure adrenaline.”

An actor better commit to these lines, or the scene's going to end up an absolute train wreck. Which other actor could have made a career out of these unmistakably terrible lines? Each one, though, shoots right to heart of each movie: a young girl’s coming-of-age; one man’s fight for justice (and an honest bartender); everlasting love; to thine own self be true, brah. As disposable and risible as these lines are on the page, Swayze somehow made them believable, palpable, classic. 

Bad and Worse, Meet Worst

I stumbled across this piece of news a few weeks ago, but it’s taken me this long to come to grips with the unholy trinity of Warren Zevon, Mitch Albom and Kevin Smith. A year before he died, Zevon, the most overrated songwriter of his generation, collaborated with Albom on the song, “Hit Somebody,” about a Canadian farm boy who grows up to be an enforcer for a professional hockey team. Albom, a lifelong hockey fan and master of smaltz, penned the lyrics, while Zevon composed the music. I'm sorry, but you have to hear it for yourself.  



As if this weren’t bad enough, Kevin Smith, arguably the worst filmmaker of his generation, is currently in talks with Albom to produce a movie based on the five-minutes-and-thirty-three-second-too-long tune. Theoretically, a movie about a 1970s Canadian hockey goon could be a lot of fun, but this ain’t no "Slapshot." Smith said he envisions the film as being more dramatic in nature, and possibly entering into awards season chatter down the road.

“I never once thought about winning awards or anything, but that movie I think can do it,” Smith said. “If I play my cards right and we get the right people in it, it could be an award-type movie. This the one I really want to do in a big, bad way.”

I've been racking my brains about a worst collaboration. A Tyler Perry-Jason Whitlock-Darius Rucker joint would probably beat this one out. But only barely. 

Big Fan

I'm excited about “Big Fan,” Robert Siegel's new film about an obsessed New York Giants fan who equates the team's win-loss record with his own lot in life. The film, which opens this weekend, stars Patton Oswalt, one of the funniest mother fuckers working today. It's getting some good early reviews, and Oswalt is plugging the hell out of it. The other day, he spoke with Bill Simmons on one of the Sports Guy’s podcasts. During their hour-long conversation, Oswalt touched on just about everything, from his new film, his career, sports films, Comic-Con, comedy and, around the 13-minute mark, how "Friday Night Lights" is arguably one of the best television shows ever written. (“My wife and I were just feeding the DVDs. You can’t stop watching it. It’s just so amazing. Connie Britton and Kyle Chandler. I don’t know why they just don’t give them the Emmys. Just give it to them.”)

"Big Fan" isn’t a sports movie, per se. At its heart, it’s a film about obsession, and how the obsessed—whether it’s sports enthusiasts, foodies, comic book geeks, or as Oswalt told the Sports guys, cinemaphiles, want to disappear completely in their hobbies. “Unlike a Travis Bickle,” Oswalt said of his character, “he’s not desperately trying to reach out and connect to the world. He’s actually built such a comfortable and complete shell, his battle is with the people who are trying to get him to come out of it.”

I think that’s exactly right. If a fan's not careful, sports can take over your life. A point made almost daily on New York's sports radio. The other afternoon a caller phoned in to Mike Francesa to talk about Joba Chamberlain. Before he made his point, he offhandedly mentioned that he was in between trips to the hospital, where his wife, the poor girl, was delivering their first child. The caller figured he had time to offer his two cents on Joba’s recent pitching performances, in between contractions, I guess.

"We all have these passions, and most of us use them to enhance our lives," Oswalt recently told the "Los Angeles Times." "But for some people, they replace a life. When it takes over and you start wanting to exclude people, you've gone to an ugly place."

Sugar, Sugar

I just stumbled across this trailer for Sugar, a film about a young Dominican pitcher trying to make it the majors. Written and directed by the same team behind the underrated Half Nelson, the film looks pretty damn good. It premieres this weekend in New York and Los Angeles. I now know what I'm doing Sunday afternoon.