Across 110th Street (1972): You’ve Got to Be Strong

When I hear the song “Across 110th Street” by the immortal Bobby Womack, the first thoughts that come to my mind are the final scenes of Quentin Tarantino’s Jackie Brown where Pam Grier makes her exit from the film to the strains of the song. Like so many things in QT’s films, there is a direct film homage he is working for, and this time the film itself shares a title with the song. In the early 70s, Blaxploitation films were all the rage, and Across 110th Street shares some values with that breed of film. However, thanks to the performances of two strong leads, a tight plot with substance, and some gritty camera work, Across 110th Street feels like it belongs beside a film like In the Heat of the Night more than The Monkey Shuffle or The Mack. With the same urban appeal that made films like The French Connection feel so very real, Across 110th Street invites the viewer to come up to Harlem and see how the racial barriers divide, insulate, and ultimately must be overcome. Plus, there’s shooting and Anthony Quinn socks a lot of people in the jaw. So worry not, there may be plenty of message, but there’s a whole lot more going on Across 110th.

Calendar Girl Murders (1984) Don’t Startle the ‘Stache, You’ll Skerritt

I remember a Christmas, when I was about twelve or thirteen, and one of my gifts from my Grandparents was a calendar of ladies in swimwear on the beach. This gift made several things go through my mind including will my mom let me keep it, how cool is my Grandpa for picking it out, and I wonder if you can see any nipples. Hey, what can I say, I was an adolescent horndog. (Who. coincidentally is grew into a middle aged horn dog, but that’s an entirely different matter.) My mother did indeed let me keep the calendar, and it hung by my bedside for the next twelve months providing me some beautiful, tan, sexy, barefoot fantasy girlfriends who obviously were on the coldest beaches of all time. Today’s film, Calendar Girl Murders, brought the memory to mind due to its title, but it really should have been the Centerfold Girl Murders to be accurate. More on that later. I chose the film because it stars one of the unsung heroes of the movie mustache  Tom Skerritt, who sadly is overshadowed by that other mustachioed Tom, Mr. Selleck. Today though, is Skerritt’s time to shine. So join me as I turn the pages of Calendar Girl Murders.

Sharky’s Machine (1981) This Machine Grows ‘Staches

If Hollywood lore is to be believed, and who am I to dispute it, when Clint Eastwood made Every Which Way But Loose, his buddy Burt Reynolds thought that Clint was stepping on his toes. Comedy, after all, was Burt’s bread and butter with a pair of Smokey and the Bandit films, The Cannonball Run, and Hooper already in the can. Burt told Clint that if Every Which Way was a hit that he’d try and one up Eastwood with his own “Dirty Harry” type character. Every Which Way was a success, and it lead Clint to do a sequel, Any Which Way You Can, before Burt could get his hard boiled cop going. In 1981, Burt finally brought his vision to life. Setting his cop tale, Sharky’s Machine, in Atlanta, Ga., near his real hometown of Waycross, Reynolds crafted a tale that was part “Dirty Harry”, but it’s hard to think that Eastwood’s character would ever be as introspective or sensitive as Burt’s Tom Sharky. So come with me to the land of many Peachtree Streets, where Southern charm meets up with big city sleaze, where one cop can make a difference, that is, if he has the right machine.