Title:Bad Boys By: Rick Rosenthal Released by: EMI Released on: 1983 Rating (out of 10): 9 Date: 03/22/2002
Sean Penn, Esai Morales
A Riveting Sean Penn in a Riveting Film
Infused with uncommon emotional feeling and complexity, Bad Boys, a 1983 drama starring a pre-stardom Sean Penn as a violent juvenile delinquent, may have a familiar surface quality to it yet is far from derivative entertainment, thanks in large part to first-rate technical craftsmanship and uncommonly fine performances. Basically, what we have here is Penn's Mick O'Brien, a 17-year-old Chicago high-schooler whose rap sheet is infinitely more impressive than his report card; he's been brought up on charges ranging from B&E to assault with a deadly weapon, only to have the charges dismissed because of his underage status. The film is about how Mick -- tried and finally convicted for his unintentional running-down of an 8-year-old boy during a high-speed police pursuit after a drug rip-off gone bad -- transforms from a vicious criminal into a caring human being. While I can't rightfully aver said transformation is entirely plausible -- it has a trumped-up plasticity to it -- mature dialogue, Rick Rosenthal's well-calibrated direction, and Penn's phenomenal performance pretty much smooths this out.
Based on his mediocre direction of the deplorable Halloween 2, who would have thought Rosenthal had so much cinematic ingenuity (not to mention, heart) in him? He does what so few directors in this day and age bother with: concentrating and giving full attention to individual sequences. There's an organic clarity and immediacy to each of the scenes, as if what we're witnessing is incredibly vivid yet entirely plausible. While one may assess the camerabatics are non-showy, they at least serve the material dilligently, supporting rather than distracting from the story. Bad Boys is lean, mean, and (as former film critic Sheila Benson noted of Michael Mann's debut Thief) having the aesthetic blunt force of a 2x4 across the solar plexus. It spares you absolutely nothing yet never comes off as exploitive, either -- just as a heavy dose of grim-faced, unflinching reality that unsparingly clings and refuses to let go.
Mick is sent to an upstate juvenile facility, and the heart of the story lies in his adaptation and eventual emotional redemption therein. The place is populated by (as one of the correctional officer notes) "murderers, armed robbers, rapists, and mental defectors -- just like yourself, they've graduated top of the class.". Said officer also sees fit to remind Mick "Your crime is not that you got caught, but the crime itself.". Rather than pushing things, Bad Boys takes its time in playing things out, to give the audience ample time to get an open-minded reading on Mick. Can he be truly redeemed, or is he going to wind up just another statistic to be written off? The outcome won't be surprising to those who've seen more than five films, but I bet you'll be pleasantly surprised at just how maturely the film arrives at it.
Refreshingly, Mick is treated as an actual human being and not a perfunctory plot device, and there's an undiluted pleasure in seeing a 3-dimensional human being progressively change right before our eyes (like Matt Dillon's parent-less Oklahoma teen in Tim Hunter's Tex). Penn never pushes the pathos in the character; rather, he simply lays valid dramatic framework and underpinnings for us to identify rather than sympathize. It's really a landmark performance that works on so many emotional levels, with astonishing emotional transitions that come and go like the wind, like the breaths of life. Penn effortlessly disappears and immerses himself as Mick, but he isn't joylessly submerged in it like a half-ass method actor's dramatization -- it lives and breathes with authenticity, with the discipline and control to make it both vivid and grounded. Mick is presumed to be a sociopath incapable of change, and it's to Penn's credit that he uncovers the hidden facets of potential from within -- so much so that you come to believe he's capable of change if only he'd realize and succumb to that potential.
Of course, working strictly within this moral framework, the filmmakers would have been considerably hamstrung with making a two-hour film about a reformed criminal, so an undeniable plot gimmick has been added to the mix: the older brother of the child Mick killed (the charismatic Esai Morales) is implausibly sentenced to the same facility for raping Mick's girlfriend (a touching Ally Sheedy) because of (are you ready?) a logjam in admissions. The last 45 minutes or so function solely as boilerplate material in building up to the inevitable violent confrontation between the two. The ensuing result makes for a contrived but admittedly dynamic finale.
Bad Boys is irrefutably manipulative but not insultingly so: it means to eradicate its lead character but not through entirely simplistic means. An early post-coital bedroom scene with Mick and Sheedy's J.C. is a prime example: it's Mick's true feelings for her that are stressed here, not the libidinous after-longings (which Bill Conti's evocative score lovingly accentuates). He genuinely cares for her but is too socially inclined to do the wrong thing in keeping with his rough-worn environment. Again, judgment isn't passed, just the wide-awake realization and acceptance of his social circumstances and bringing-up. Mick's been reared to avenge as a rudiment of manhood regardless of the circumstances, and the point of the film is that a criminal is capable of discerning what's truly right and wrong, that dissipating a vengeful impulse is possible given that he or she is privy to acknowledging the long-range and moral consequences. Ordinarily, this kind of thing would come off as preachy and maudlin; in the filmmakers' capable mitts, however, it's been developed and presented as dramatically feasible.
There isn't much room for lightness in Bad Boys -- the material's unsparing unpleasantness doesn't allow for cushy coating -- yet it makes for challenging and insightful entertainment for those willing to stick with it. The only form of comic relief comes in the form of young Eric Gurry, who plays Mick's techno-wizard, runt-ish Jewish cellmate. He's never entirely believable (thiskid allotted amongst Chicago's most violent teens?! I think not.) but Gurry and Penn manage to work up such an ingratiating rapport that we're willing to buy into it, anyway. If Horowitz (subtle naming, that!) had been made out to be some kind of misunderstood delinquent, the result would have been intolerable; luckily, he's been sharply etched as an intelligent but unscrupulous youth whose conscience easily takes a back seat when exacting murderous revenge on the bullies who pester him. It's a lip-smackingly fine portrait of the resourceful nerd who manages through brain, not brawn, to get the upper hand on his adversaries.
Bad Boys may not be everyone's cup of tea, but its unsparingness makes for quite a welcome alternative when so many films gloss over the hardness of their material. I can't claim you'll walk away elated after seeing it. I will, however, go on the record by claiming it a disturbing and devastating entertainment that'll floor you simply through its frankness and emotional honesty. Okay, sure, the sheer brutality of the violence may be deemed as excessive by some, but it's no more so than the content of, say, a drunk-driving video, where the violence is simply representative of the harsh subject matter, without it being wallowed in for the sake of sensationalism. Itīs a great film.
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Not surprisingly, the immeasurable Anchor Bay has risen to the challenge and given this 17-year-old gem a great transfer. While thereīs some grain here and there, the colors are solid, shadow detail is excellent, and the 1.85:1 letterboxing is handsome. The audio is acceptable but makes little use of channel separations. Extra features are limited, with only a theatrical trailer and director Rosenthal's audio commentary (which reveals Tom Cruise and Kevin Bacon were considered for the part).
