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‘Pacific Heights’: Fresh Off ‘Batman’, Michael Keaton Went Full Psycho in This ’90s Thriller

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Michael Keaton Pacific Heights

It’s Cape Fear meets ‘The Burbs in director John Schlesinger’s (Midnight Cowboy, Marathon Man) Pacific Heights. Although you might be fooled by Hanz Zimmer’s score, which sounds a lot more like you’re watching Sexy Beetlejuice than a ’90s thriller. This is pure irony, of course, considering the film stars Beetlejuice himself, Michael Keaton, as a conman who is six feet from the edge and thinking maybe doing murder isn’t so far down.

For those of you arguing silently in your heads that Pacific Heights is not a horror movie, let me go ahead and agree with you. It’s a pure thriller. But imagine this for a moment; imagine somewhere out there is a fresh-off Batman Michael Keaton, sitting in a dark room twirling both a razor blade and a large cockroach through his fingers like some sort of emo fidget spinner, plotting you and your significant other’s demise. Now, imagine that dark room he’s in is inside of your very home. Finally, I want you to imagine that he’s there because he’s tricked you into leasing a room to him and then barricaded himself in, using loopholes in the law to his advantage and systematically destroying you financially and emotionally. He’s changed the locks. He’s doing some loud and mysterious construction work. His Porsche is even parked in your garage. Worst of all? He has those devil-may-care Michael Keaton eyes on your lady. Pure horror.

In this tale, a young couple decides to take a huge risk on renovating a large home in Pacific Heights, knowing the only way they’ll ever be able to afford it is if they immediately rent out the extra rooms for $1,000 to $1,300 a month. In 1990! That must be like $2 million adjusted for inflation today.

Pacific Heights is very interesting in how it treats Drake (Matthew Modine) and Patty (Melanie Griffith). It’s hard to tell if it’s attempting to paint them as an all-American loveable young couple or if it’s purposefully making them feel like snooty yuppies and it makes things kind of interesting. There are little moments where I am kind of rooting for Michael Keaton’s Carter Hayes character just a little bit. Before he goes full psycho nutbag, of course. There’s more going on in Pacific Heights than your average thriller of the time, is what I mean to say.

For instance, the opening of the film feels like it were created for a different film entirely. A very confused score plays as we see Carter in bed with a nude Beverly D’Angelo (Christmas Vacation), rubbing her down with an ice cube. You know, the usual. The whole scene is very Basic Instinct and seems as though we’re in for yet another erotic ’90s thriller. Suddenly, a bunch of dudes burst in and beat the living shit out of him and we’re in an entirely different movie.

Next, we’re roped in by a cautionary tale of what not to do if you’re a first-time landlord. The story comes from writer Daniel Pyne (The Sum of All Fears) and is actually inspired by a tenant he once had that he couldn’t evict. It’s all tinged with a kind of The Big Short level of fuckery as we watch this young couple, eager to be big shot landlords, get swindled. Michael Keaton is captivating to watch as a conman. He’s smooth-talking and full of charisma. Then there’s the way the script takes you through the legalities of just how badly he is screwing them both over…. and just how hard it is to fight something like that in court without a well-funded bank account.

Keaton has a few monologues that allow us to experience his wit but he’s often kept in the shadows just enough to make us wonder what the hell he is doing in there. It’s just the right amount of reserve. He’s also framed creepily by Schlesinger and DP Amir Mokri (Man of Steel, Lord of War, Freejack, Bad Boys II) in such a way that he doesn’t have to do much. Whether sitting stoically with an insect between his fingers (later parodied in Jim Carrey’s The Cable Guy) or in a parked car in a dark garage, Keaton can produce a lot of crazy with a single look. A look he made so cool with Batman that gives off a completely different energy when it’s coming from the guy in apartment 2B.

Then there’s the other side of the yin-yang with Drake’s abrasive, over-the-top, semi-whiney character blowing his cool each time Carter bests him. Anyone would be stressed in this situation but this guy unravels as if the messiest thing he’d ever been through before was his fanny pack. At each turn, he seems to make the situation a thousand times worse to prove he’s the better man. In one moment, he’s screaming at his lawyer (in another amazing performance by a blunt Laurie Metcalf) in the courthouse hallway and in another has a direct hand in the miscarriage of their child when Patty intervenes as he’s trying to fight a car with a crowbar.

This, paired with the revelation of just what a true to the core total despicable asshole Carter is, leaves us to find the true hero of the story…..Patty. Surrounded by either dumb dumbs, sketchy characters or police officers telling her to move on, Patty takes things into her own hands in a surprise twist. She gives us someone likable to root for at a time the film desperately needs it and puts together a cunning plan for revenge that is well-conceived and satisfying.

All this leads to a well-set-up final set piece that kind of reminds me of the home invasion sequence at the end of 1990’s Fear starring Mark Wahlberg. In that film, tensions had escalated to a point where nobody was hiding their true intentions anymore. David (Wahlberg) showed up with his crew with full intent on pure violence. There was nothing else left. Just as well here as Patty had just countered Carter in such a way that the only thing left was violence.

We all know what’s coming as Patty floats about the house working on getting their lives back together nail by nail (complete with obvious foreshadowing involving a faulty nail gun) as an incapacitated Drake lays on the couch smiling like the idiot he is. Loud grunge music plays as the camera starts to tease us with all the places Carter could be in the home; a slow zoom-in on the area behind the clothes in the closet; a literal cat jump scare. Finally, we get our final face-off moment. It’s Melanie Griffith fighting for her life in the face of an extremely talkative Michael Keaton who is undoubtedly there to take the next step in his crime career and do some murder.

The overly conventional way things wrap up aside, one of the more interesting aspects of Pacific Heights is that they never had to oversell it. We didn’t need to see Carter Hayes pulling dead hookers out of his trunk or give him a body count of three to four background characters. He was refreshing as a villain because he wasn’t a bloodthirsty headcase or an unintimidating white-collar crime artist afraid to get his hands dirty. He was simply a total and unequivocal asshole who looked at other human beings as things to be bled dry. And eventually, as life tends to do, he finally ran into someone who wasn’t having that shit.

Pacific Heights may fall into a lot of the same old ’90s thriller tropes (some of which I rather enjoy) but it has just enough quirky tendencies that it’s enjoyable in its very own way. The sheer gall of our villain to disrespect someone so deeply by inhabiting their very home is fascinating. So is the idea that it’s Michael Keaton doing it. There’s just something really fun about watching a big name in Hollywood who’s unafraid to take on the role of a despicable psychopath.

You can check out Pacific Heights on Tubi, Peacock and Vudu now.

Michael Keaton Pacific Heights thriller

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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