With Justified having returned this past Tuesday, now is probably as good a time as any to get this one up. I actually read Riding the Rapwhen I went to Europe back in August. It was coincidental, but I started reading it about a day before Elmore Leonard died. I followed it up promptly with When the Women Come Out to Dance, the book that contained "Fire in the Hole," but I'll talk more about that in a separate entry.
Picking up after Raylan shoots Tommy Bucks dead--which is where Pronto left off and is the scene that kicks off the aforementioned series, Justified--Raylan is with Harry Arno's ex-girlfriend, Joyce. Harry Arno, at least arguably the co-lead of these first two books, is at the end of his rope when he ends up getting held hostage by three fellow lowlifes who set off to try to work Harry over to get the money he's stashed away in a Swiss bank account.
The cast of characters is every bit as colorful as anyone with Leonard's work has come to expect. The natural evolution and escalation of violence as the crime spins out of the captors' control has that wicked Leonardian logic to it that makes you smile in horror. Raylan's wise-cracking never stops being hilarious, and with Timothy Olyphant having immortalized him on television, the reader gets the added bonus of imagining him quite vividly acting out every look of irritation and anger, adding an originally unimagined layer to the reading experience.
Just as you would expect, Riding the Rap is a fuckload of fun and drops you right off at the front steps for where "Fire in the Hole" and the Justified series picks up.
Much like writer/director Martin McDonagh's last film, In Bruges, Seven Psychopaths is very much an existential, comedic take on the violent criminal underworld. Unlike In Bruges, however, this is a much more reflexive film, taking the Kaufmanesque approach at writing the film on the screen from within the film on the screen. McDonagh proves to be gymnastically adept at balancing the plot with the art of screenwriting as displayed on screen, knowingly toying with the characters and the audience alike in a cheeky but charming way. Not surprisingly (at least for any of us who saw his Oscar-winning feature-length debut), Seven Psychopaths is an extremely pleasing and exceedingly funny trip through madcap shoot-'em-up the likes of the best of the Elmore Leonard adaptations.
Much like those Elmore Leonard adaptations, Seven Psychopaths is blessed with a wonderful--I'm taking back the word "wonderful," Louis C.K.--cast, and I'm not just saying that because of the fella you see to the left in an atypically (but fully intentionally) large image here. Clearly, McDonagh feels a kinship with Colin Farrell, who in this film doesn't just play the surrogate of the screenwriter but actually plays the screenwriter himself, and Farrell doesn't disappoint. It's nice to see him have moved past trying to place the Hollywood game and playing interesting characters again. As the sane, normal person who stands amidst the chaos, documenting, Farrell is great--a straight man to all the insanity transpiring around him, not only acting as a stand-in for McDonagh, but also playing a bit of the Every Man and thusly a stand-in (albeit a drunk one) for each person in the audience. Around him are the brilliant Christopher Walken, Sam Rockwell, Woody Harrelson, and Tom Waits, all suitably nuts and all uniquely drawn. Walken is especially illuminating, his role one that plays against what he is typecast as in seemingly all of his other roles. It's refreshing to see Walken as a pacifist, even if he is off-kilter. There's no menace in his character, and the audience is treated to a role in which Walken is allowed to be *gasp* charming. Rockwell is Rockwell at his best, leaving one to wonder why he isn't in everything. Waits is deliciously batshit crazy, the bunny affectation a brilliant touch on [presumably] McDonagh's part. Harrelson is also great, though the role is less interesting than the three caballeros or Waits's character, whose background I do not want to spoil.
For its colorful cast of characters, the script is pretty damn smart, weaving subplots in and out of the narrative with an ease and dexterity that is hard not to marvel at. The humor offsets the violence, and the film is not so in love with itself as to not take potshots at itself, such as its hammering of Marty for not writing any female characters of any import. When all is said and done, you are left with a grin on your face and a desire to sit through the credits to see if there are any messages to strong hippie killing women.
As the third season of Justified came to an end, there was little doubt in my mind that I was watching the best show on television. If I thought that I had the energy to actually do it, I would absolutely write something after each episode of the show. Unfortunately, I don't have that energy, I surely do not have the time, and far too many do a much better job than I could possibly do (I'm looking at you, Alan Sepinwall). Not having that energy should not give you the impression that I am anything less than completely enamored with the show.
In Justified, Graham Yost and Company have created a television universe so rich with compelling characters both good and bad that it forces comparisons to The Wire in sheer terms of its magnitude of truly enjoyable secondary and tertiary characters. The wide array of law enforcement officials, regular citizens, and criminals of varying degrees is impressive, but more impressive is the skill to which they are drawn. A Crank-like episode following the delinquent dipshit Dewey Crowe ultimately matters to the audience because for whatever reason we welcome Damon Herriman--playing an illiterate racist--into our homes, at least on screen. The simple fleeting appearance of Loretta McCready in the penultimate episode of season three couldn't help but elicit a smile from the audience, and her not striking one as a Van Halen fan beckoned a hearty subsequent laugh. We are conflicted when it comes down to who we actually want to mete out Dickie Bennett's comeuppance because, despite the fact that Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens is the show's protagonist, the character of Boyd Crowder draws us in and we simultaneously root for him to succeed--for him to avenge Ava.
Where the show draws its most strength is from the fact that it takes the world that Elmore Leonard created, gives it legs, expands upon it, lets it flourish into something so much bigger than it ever could have been in a book. Since the repopularization of serialized television, especially as cable television got into the mix and started paring down the production load to 10-13 episode seasons for a program, television has afforded writers the opportunity of telling much more complex stories than they had been afforded in any other medium. Even when given that latitude, most show-runners have not gotten their programs to the level that Justified now sits at in terms of having created a universe with a (mostly) singular protagonist in which there is such a dearth of richly imagined secondary characters to draw from each week that characters may pop up only once in a season if for no other reason than that there isn't enough time to fit them in more than that.
What Justified accomplished in its third season, though, was in adding so many characters to the mix working against each other and against Raylan that it was a marvel just to see where each episode went. Each character's motivations set them careening into and away from each other. Each character's actions consistently surprised while setting off interesting and unpredictable chain reactions. As each new event transpired, the turn that it took was unexpected leaving the viewer totally and blissfully unable to suss out where the plot would go next. The introduction of Robert Quarles and Ellstin Limehouse to the mix not only brought heavy hitters Neal McDonough and Mykelti Williamson into the Justified-fold but also added big-time players to struggle with Boyd Crowder and the re-emerged Wynn Duffy--played fantastically well by Jere Burns--for power in Harlan.
The ensuing orgy of machinations that these varied big bads played out against one another and Raylan was at once overwhelming (in the best possible way) and invigorating. With each one's motives never being entirely clear, the tidal shifts of power were a joy to watch. Even with the inimitable Walton Goggins getting considerably less screen time this season than in years past, the show wasn't lacking for its relative lack of Boyd Crowder goodness. Even with the dynamic between Boyd and Raylan being the most interesting aspect of the show, Graham Yost seems to have an eye on the long play and maintains a healthy dose of the two acting off of one another while keeping them from facing off in a final showdown. Goggins has forced them in this direction with his spectacular turn as Boyd, but the tension and drama between Raylan and Boyd has to build and build and build all the way until the show's end. The successful introduction of first Mags Bennett in Season Two and now Robert Quarles and Ellstin Limehouse in Season Three just shows how deftly they have been able to set up foils for Raylan while not blowing their load on the Boyd front.
Where Yost & Co. will take things in Season Four is anyone's guess. I, for one, am a bit leery about the talk of three four-episode mini arcs that Yost mentioned as a possibility at What's Alan Watching's Post-Mortem on Season Three, but at this point I'll gladly watch whatever they do. I'm on this ride until the end.
With Pronto being the book in which Raylan Givens was first introduced, it made as much sense as any other book when choosing a re-entry point for Elmore Leonard, who I had not read since the late 1990s.
While readers flocking to the book in search for more Raylan than their weekly fix of Justified can give them may wade through the first 33 pages wondering where the hell he is, it isn't too long before he saunters in wearing his Stetson hat. Given the fact that Leonard can spin a yarn as easily as he might pour a drink, it's hardly even noticeable that Raylan hasn't made an appearance until he does--with an air of mystery about him.
What might be most odd about the whole book (in retrospect and given that Raylan Givens has become a rather iconic figure much after the fact) is that its events largely take place as a result of Harry Arno--a 66-year-old bookie from Miami--giving Raylan the slip for the second time in their dealings with one another. Knowing Raylan as we have all come to know him, this makes for an odd and almost incongruous introduction.
Regardless of the fact that one has to reconcile Raylan's error with the character on Justified, Leonard's penchant for taut, funny, unpredictable storytelling is on full display in Pronto, and there is the added bonus of getting to read the Tommy Bucks scene from the open of the pilot as it was originally written, complete with the full back story.
If you watch Justified--and if you don't, what the hell are you doing wrong with your life?--there is plenty to love here, even if there are slight changes from the source material that Graham Yost & Co. made with regards to Raylan's back story.
when I went to Europe back in August. It was coincidental, but I started reading it about a day before Elmore Leonard died. I followed it up promptly with When the Women Come Out to Dance
, the book that contained "Fire in the Hole," but I'll talk more about that in a separate entry.
left off and is the scene that kicks off the aforementioned series, Justified--Raylan is with Harry Arno's ex-girlfriend, Joyce. Harry Arno, at least arguably the co-lead of these first two books, is at the end of his rope when he ends up getting held hostage by three fellow lowlifes who set off to try to work Harry over to get the money he's stashed away in a Swiss bank account.
