Remembering the early career of Mickey Rourke, this year’s comeback kid.
Possibly no other actor of his generation rose so quickly and brightly, nor fell so precipitously, as Mickey Rourke. An A-list leading man following his breakout performance in 1982′s ensemble drama Diner, Rourke’s smoldering, barely-subdued screen confidence combined with a vaguely sordid ambivalence, as if James Dean had come out of the 1970s having tried a thing or two he probably shouldn’t. In fact, for young male audiences of the era he embodied the kind of restless, anti-authoritarian screen persona John Garfield held in the 50s and Jack Nicholson occupied in the 70s: the surly outsider getting what he wanted by following his own discontented moral compass.
Though it’s hard to pin down where things began to go wrong for him, Rourke’s career was always dogged with controversy and often seemed fueled by hubris. His star continued to rise through the mid- and late-80s, making period landmarks like The Pope of Greenwich Village, 9 1/2 Weeks, and Rumble Fish, while his turn as a Charles Bukowski analogue in 1987′s Barfly single-handedly made the film a minor classic. Still, his reputation for being difficult to direct and quick to anger undermined his career, as did a series of woefully missed opportunities. He’s reported to have turned down starring roles in Top Gun, The Untouchables, and 48 Hrs. in favor of little-seen works such as Francesco and A Prayer For the Dying, smaller and more ambitious films that lacked the widespread appeal of such larger projects. And the partying never helped, or the misbegotten plastic surgery, or the notorious boxing career that often left him looking ridiculous and self-deluded.
Yow! Rourke, Basinger in 9 1/2 Weeks
But ultimately it’s likely the public simply grew bored with him. Never afraid of adult material, the eroticism of 9 1/2 Weeks and Angel Heart (more on that below) linked Rourke in the public mind to “tawdry sex films,” and a starring role in 1989′s stupendously awful Wild Orchid left him typecast in that niche for years. It’s also fair to say, though less fair to him, that by the end of the 80s he seemed merely passe, a relic of his decade best set aside in favor of younger stars. He’s spent much of the last twenty years in supporting parts in A-movies and starring roles in B- and D-movies, often in roles that are little more than cameos.
Now his career is resurgent. Besides his award-winning turn in The Wrestler he’s won a starring role as the villainous Whiplash in Iron Man 2 and a prominent part in the action ensemble The Expendables. And as further proof that all things are cyclical in Hollywood, the recent indie The Informers featured both Rourke and his 9 1/2 Weeks co-star Kim Basinger, onscreen again after twenty three years. Still and nevertheless, the best of his early films stand among the best movies of their era. The five presented below are representative of that body of work, though by no means comprehensive.
Diner (1982): Rourke is so charismatic in Barry Levinson’s boys-will-be-boys remembrance that his costars Kevin Bacon, Daniel Stern, Steve Guttenberg and Paul Reiser often seem trapped in black and white film stock by comparison. The following scene, in which Rourke’s hairdressing law school student Boogie Sheftell tricks his date (Colette Blonigan) into touching him someplace special, is topped only by his oily charm at calming the girl down afterwards. A meandering piece more about time, place, and character than narrative movement, Diner cemented Levinson as a director to watch and made stars of its entire cast, which also included Ellen Barkin and Tim Daly.
The Pope of Greenwich Village (1984): Director Stuart Rosenberg’s (Cool Hand Luke) character study of two cousins in New York’s Little Italy was critically praised but flopped at the box office. Charlie and Paulie (Rourke and Eric Roberts) try to rob a safe so they can bet on a winning racehorse, a desperate and ill-considered scheme that puts them afoul of the local mafia and threatens their lifelong dysfunctional friendship. Rourke is focused and intense beside the all-over-the-place Roberts, allowing their lost soul characters to forge a kind of New Yawk version of Lenny and George from Of Mice and Men. The following scene, early in the film, comes just as Charlie begins to lose all patience with Paulie’s goofing:
Angel Heart (1987): Among the most unsettling horror films of the decade, yet probably the most disconertingly erotic, Angel Heart cast Rourke as Harry Angel, a 1950s New York private detective sent to New Orleans to find a missing singer named Johnny Favorite. As he investigates Favorite’s disappearance while courting local girl Epiphany Proudfoot (The Cosby Show‘s Lisa Bonet, a long way from the Huxtable household), he begins to realize his client Mr. Cyphre (Robert DeNiro) is framing him for a series of bloody murders connected to Favorite’s disapperance. Director Alan Parker (Midnight Express) piles on the creepy until even the film itself becomes as grimy and murky as yellowed glass. Rourke and Bonet’s torrid sex scenes were so graphic they were trimmed to get an R-rating but restored to a home video release, making the film one of the ealriest examples of a director’s cut.
Barfly (1987): Proving something of a critical comeback after the poor receptions of Year of the Dragon and 9 1/2 Weeks, Rourke’s turn as a slightly-fictionalized version of legenedary poet/drunk Charles Bukowski also returned Faye Dunaway to the screen after years of osbcurity. Rourke plays Henry Chinaski not as a holy fool or mystic spirit but rather as a shambling, self-destructive asshole who writes poetry sort of as a pastime from getting hammered. The film is a warts-and-all approach to Bukowski’s almost mythic life that doesn’t skimp on grit but also doesn’t back away from showing the dark comedy inherent in many of the situations. In the clip below Henry taunts his nemesis Eddie the Bartender, played by (you guessed it) Frank Stallone.
Homeboy (1989): Rourke wrote and starred in this rough, uncompromising character study of a broken-down boxer carrying an unrequited love for a carnival worker Ruby (Debra Feuer) while nursing a brain injury that might kill him the next time he fights. Christopher Walken, years away from the self-caricature of his 90s work, plays a cheap hood trying to get Rourke’s Johnny Walker to come along on a heist. Reuben Blades and Jon Polito fill out the cast, while Eric Clapton provides the moody soundtrack. Rourke sued to have the film’s release stopped, claiming creative control promised him by the film’s producers was never delivered, and reviews have been mixed over the years. But Rourke and Walken give great performances despite the film’s middling faults, and with Rourke now celebrated for a similar role in The Wrestler it seems time to get this film an American DVD release.
- Michael Kabel
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The Wrestler come Back