To Live and Die in L.A.
Oh man, this film is crazy. Crazy in only the way a cop film from the early 80s starring Wilem Dafoe as a counterfeiter who’s also a frustrated painter and has a modern dance girlfriend with whom he sexes up, and then has more sex with while watching the tapes he made of them sexing it up can be.
Oh yeah and William “CSI” Peterson’s in it, too, as a Secret Service agent chasing Dafoe because Dafoe killed Peterson’s “I’m too old for this shit” about-to-retire partner, and willing to do whatever it takes to catch Dafoe.
Yes, WHATEVER IT TAKES, man, he killed the man’s partner, don’t you know what that means? They were like brothers, man, they been through some shit together, see, they would’ve died for each other, and no two-bit paper man’s gonna get away with that.
And did I mention all the music is by Wang Chung?
This movie is so 80s it’s awesome, so awesome it’s crazy, so crazy it makes me wanna do a bunch of blow and paint some awful paintings, then go bungee jumping out in long beach, threaten to revoke my girlfriend’s parole, beat up John Turturo, drink a beer with Dean Stockwell, attempt a prison shivving, steal $50,000 from a Chinese dude, have a car chase by the docks, fire off a machine gun on a busy street, then get set on fire.
BECAUSE ALL THAT SHIT HAPPENS IN THE MOVIE.
A+++++++++++++
