Okay, here's the deal. Seeing as how I spend a good portion of time at my clinic, I've come to know that ambulance drivers and EMT's are a breed apart from most other folks. That's not meant as an insult, mind you. Far from it, actually. It never fails to amaze me at the attitude of these chosen few. They're adrenaline junkies, sure, and they may seem absolutely crazy as outhouse rats sometime, but that comes with the job. I mean, think about it. Most of us don't work in the daily business of life or death struggles, especially mere minutes after the life has been put in jeopardy. While we sit in our offices and talk on the phone and use the fax machine, these people are elbow deep in blood, bone, and Lord only knows what else. They live to make other people live.
And, yes, this job can put people a bit on the wild side. It can make you cynical, it can make you a bit hard-edged and callous, and it can make you stone-slap crazy. But that's what makes 'em such good company. Even my favorite two here in Carver Point, Domingo and Alejandro Carraba, are a bit wild. DC and AC, as I know them, were baseball players in the Dominican Republic who got to America with the Olympic team in 1996. They tried to defect, only to find out that the Dominican Republic was a free country and they could stay if they wanted to. They immediately jumped off the team bus and hotfooted down to Carver Point from Atlanta, and showed up at the clinic one day looking for jobs. Domingo had been a male nurse in his home country, as well as being a crackerjack shortstop on the island. Alejandro had been the most heralded demolition derby driver in the Caribbean and played a mean second base. I helped them do the paperwork for their green cards, and sent them over to the Carver County Emergency Services Department and they were hired on the spot as ambulance drivers.
I see AC and DC about five times a week, and they always shake my hand and tell me how much they appreciate my "helpingness." Their mother, Carmen, sends them care packages once a month, and always includes a nice box of cigars for me, and she keeps promising to send some goat-meat chili, too, but I could just as soon miss that treat.
Well, when I found out that Martin Scorsese was filming a movie about ambulance drivers, I swore to myself that I'd take AC and DC to see it. So, last weekend, I loaded the boys into the truck, and we went over to the dodecaplex to see Bringing Out the Dead, starring Nicolas Cage, Patricia Arquette, and an all-star supporting cast. The vote from the Caribbean Express was a resounding "Si, si!" And, truth be told, I agreed with them.
Nic Cage stars as Frank Pierce, a burnt-out paramedic in New York's Hell's Kitchen. We catch him at a major low point in his existence -- alcohol-fried, sleep-deprived, and completely sick of his job. He hasn't saved a life in months, and is starting to see "the spirits" of all those people he let slip away. One in particular, a young woman named Rosa, haunts his soul. He runs through a series of partners, played by John Goodman, Ving Rhames, and Tom Sizemore, and all of them only amp up his stress by displaying three different types of craziness, ranging from completely manic to religious zealot. It's only when he meets the young daughter of a heart attack victim. This girl, Mary, played by Patricia Arquette (Stigmata) is a semi-safe haven for Frank, and an odd romance starts to blossom.
Now let me say this right off the start: there's such a thing as "classic Scorsese," the look Marty gives to most of his films that makes the world look neon-rude and bleak all at the same side. If you had no idea who directed this movie, you'd still be able to tell pretty easily that Scorsese had a hand in it. And, just as honestly, when he works with a scriptwriter like Paul Schrader, who wrote the masterpiece Taxi Driver, well, you should only expect perfection, right?
For the most part, right on the money. Uncle Marty has taken us back to those same mean streets, if you'll pardon the reference. He and Schrader are working from a semiautobiographical book by Joe Connelly, and while they do take the usual liberties with the original work, they keep the main story of the loneliness and absurdity of the life of a paramedic. And, in a nice little bonus, Scorsese also provides the voice of the ambulance company's dispatcher. The dispatcher is the voice of the Almighty to a driver. He's the one sending these men out on their missions, and his words are what can alter the paramedic's life a hundred times a night. Not unlike a consummate director we know.
Cage is at his Leaving Las Vegas best/worst here. His character is so washed-out and tired, you can honestly have a second to think, "Man, is he already dead?" But, as has become the norm with Nic in dramatic roles, he churns out a winning performance, rolling the dice, it would seem, for the latest entry into the Golden Boy Sweepstakes. All three of the high-roller supports are fantastic, but what should we expect from these three? Sizemore (Saving Pvt. Ryan) is always at his top when he gets those wild eyes in motion, Rhames (Entrapment) can do no wrong on a movie screen these days, and John Goodman will always give everything he's got. I mean, hey, he worked with Roseanne without ripping her head off for seven years or more. If he can do that, he can do anything.
If there's a weak link in this mix, it's Patricia Arquette. Now, I know she's Mrs. Nic Cage and all that, but she is not, by any stretch of the imagination, in the same league as the rest of this cast. She was more believable battling Freddy in Elm Street 3 than she is here. I had hoped that her work in True Romance, one of the forgotten semi-perfect movies of the past ten years, would've pushed her over the hump and into some roles that could stretch her talent. Alas, it seems that Miss Trish is going to linger in the also-ran category for a while longer. To her credit, though, the role itself is rather poorly scripted. I think Paul Schrader's last good female role was Jodie Foster in Driver. Since then, every female role he's written has been as one-dimensional as Saran Wrap. Some actresses can do things with a few limp pages of dialogue. Kathy Bates can. Emma Thompson can. Patricia Arquette can't.
If you can overlook the broken-leg lame romantic subplot, the rest of this movie is pure gold. The gritty, after-midnight world of Hell's Kitchen, as seen through the jaded eyes of a paramedic who doesn't believe in what he does anymore. What, are you kidding me??? You don't get any closer to Scorsese's home territory than that. The only things missing here are Pesci cussing like a rabid dog and De Niro, uh, well, just being De Niro.
Look, this is one more notch on Uncle Marty's film canister. I love the phrase "minor classic," and it might apply here, but that's for time to decide. For now, let me just tell you this. If you want to see filmmaking, and film acting, at the top of its form, go see Bringing Out the Dead. It might be a bit troubling to watch at times, because of the subject matter, but for once, I can honestly say the realism is just that. When it needs to show what can change a man's spirit, it shows it. And, when it needs to make its points, it makes them. It may not be a great "date" movie, but it dang sure is a great movie. And that's why you count on people like Uncle Marty.
Image copyright Paramount Pictures.
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