Tom Jolliffe takes a look at the best work of Abel Ferrara…
What with Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola being so prominent in the press of late, it brought to mind another director who rose into prominence in the wake of the aforementioned legends. Growing up in New York he was learning his trade at the same time that Scorsese, Coppola and Brian De Palma were beginning to hone their craft, and working predominantly out of New York.
Ferrara has subsequently often drawn comparison to Scorsese (in particular) as Marty’s kind of low budget, exploitation equivalent. Ferrara has often courted controversy with his films, pushing taste to limits that his bigger studio contemporaries wouldn’t go to and often lacking quite the assured finesse that saw Coppola and Scorsese become two masters of the craft.
If critical success has often eluded Ferrara, cult appeal certainly didn’t in the 80’s and 90’s. He struck limelight with exploitation flicks such as The Driller Killer and Ms.45. There were no bones about it. Both films were savaged for their material. Driller Killer was initially banned and became one of the iconic poster boys of the video nasty era. In fact up until 1999 in the UK it was banned. Ms.45 which decided Death Wish hadn’t courted quite enough controversy almost a decade previously, took the vigilante vengeance routine and made the angelic, youthful Zoe Lund (playing a mute seamstress) a vengeful killer having been raped twice in one day. Having grown up in the Bronx, Ferrara wasn’t exactly painting an adoring picture of the City and indeed would continue that trend through the peak of his powers. Ms.45 remains an essential piece of exploitation cinema with stylish excess even if it lacks subtlety. Most of Ferrara’s essential work is an amalgamation of his best and worst attributes. If De Palma became known for style over substance and histrionics, then Ferrara was similar, if less finessed. Still, when something worked, that ragged edged style was brutally, forcefully effective.
King of New York was the first in an iconic double whammy for Ferrara. Two films which would probably mark the peak of his artistic powers and draw immense performances from the legendary leading men. Christopher Walken, who would collaborate in subsequent films with Ferrara, delivers one of his great performances in the film. A career criminal released from prison and intent on taking control of the city’s underworld. He begins a head on battle with rival gangs and the police. Ferrara’s trademark style is aided by grungy, grimy but dazzling cinematography. A fine cast headed by Walken also includes Laurence Fishburne, David Caruso and Wesley Snipes. What it might lack in the subtlety and seriousness a Scorsese film might have, it makes up for in raw energy, grit and moments of brilliance (where Ferrara is almost as restrained as he’s ever been) that allow Walken to become as insular as he’s been. For all the enjoyable style in a film that was always destined for a Blu-ray label like Arrow to pick it up, there are great moments. It’s a trashterpiece.
The second in that one two punch was Bad Lieutenant. Harvey Keitel’s trademark intensity was put to great use in a film that scraped the barrel of decency and gave him licence to play an irredeemable protagonist descending into darker and darker depths but trying to regain some semblance of redemption. From the religious imagery to the bluntless of sequences showing a Nun being raped by criminals, it certainly doesn’t opt for restraint but Keitel is allowed the kind of unfettered freedom we’ve seen Nic Cage allowed in his most iconic meltdown performances (including that of his remake of this). Keitel dials it to 11 but keeps it feeling ‘authentic’ which is the gift of a master. He’s almost never been better. He threatens the audience with feeling sympathy for him.
Nothing else quite matched up after that, though the diversity of his choices and the talent attaching themselves to the projects remained of interest. As we approach Halloween, one film which might be of interest is Ferrara’s stab at vampires in the artistic and allegorical, The Addiction. Walken (see also The Funeral for another of Ferrera’s better latter day works) would also make an appearance in one of his patented (show stopping) cameos. That being said, in the lead role the perennially engaging Lili Taylor has never been better. It’s an edgy, daring and aggressive performance in a film that’s as stylistically refrained as Ferrara has probably been, and no less beautiful thanks to exquisite black and white photography.
The Addiction didn’t initially take off but has of late gathered a cult appeal for its unique dive into the vampire sub-genre, as well as the aesthetic appeal (and Taylor’s mesmeric performance). A recent Arrow release is adoringly produced and breaths new life into a film with growing cult appeal. In many ways its undercurrents and commentary and the enticing lure of repeat analytical viewings make it potentially Ferrara’s greatest work, even if it doesn’t have the instant gratifying home run power of The King of New York or Bad Lieutenant. Time will tell but The Addiction does sink its teeth in.
If Scorsese has remained consistent in delivering great work into his twilight years, Ferrara still has time for a renaissance and whilst his recent work is a mixed bag of erratically flawed but fascinating, there’s always the promise that he’ll find the idea and the cast that unifies perfectly with his style to create a last master work.
What’s your favourite Abel Ferrara film? Let us know in the comments below or on twitter @FlickeringMyth…
Tom Jolliffe is an award winning screenwriter and passionate cinephile. He has several features due out on DVD/VOD in 2019/2020 the first of which, Scarecrow’s Revenge, is available on Prime. Find more info at the best personal site you’ll ever see here.
