Blow ««½
R, 124m. 2001
Cast & Credits: Johnny Depp (George Jung), Penelope Cruz (Mirtha Jung), Franka Potente (Barbara), Paul Reubens (Derek Foreal), Ray Liotta (Fred Jung), Rachel Griffiths (Ermine Jung), Jordi Molla (Diego Delgado), Max Perlich (Kevin Dulli), Ethan Suplee (Tuna). Screenplay by David McKenna and Nick Cassavetes. Directed by Ted Demme.
“I am good at what I do. I like what I do.”
So says George Jung, self made millionaire and drug kingpin who back in the 1980s was supposedly one of the largest importers of cocaine in the United States.
The comment is one among many questions people have about Jung who wonder throughout director Ted Demme’s ambitious, sometimes humorous but most often subdued biopic Blow, if he is really truly happy.
Jung, as played compellingly by a sad eyed Johnny Depp, is either asked by or tells family members that he is happy. Why then do they, as well as myself, have such a hard time believing that?
The trouble with Blow, based on a book by Bruce Porter and a screenplay by David McKenna and Nick Cassavetes, is I was never fully convinced the guy was ever happy even while he was out of prison. If Jung were a con artist, he’d have a hard time convincing anyone to buy into his scam. He has a hard enough time as it is speaking Spanish when in South America.
His character reminds me of the regret Al Pacino’s Michael Corleone had near the end of his life in The Godfather: Part III (1990) when he asked himself why was it that his father, played by Marlon Brando, was so loved by everyone, yet it was he who was the most feared. Michael died alone.
When we see Jung in prison, lonely, penniless with no one to turn to and dreaming of the day his daughter will visit him (we’re told in the film that she still hasn’t paid the real life Jung a visit), he might as well be dead.
I got the notion, however, that Jung had a fun ride while it lasted though from the impression watching the film’s first half despite the fact the dealer acts like a depressed party pooper through most of it.
Director Demme takes us on a stroll through memory lane as he incorporates dizzying images and character elements seen in better mobster movies. He does what Martin Scorsese did when he made Goodfellas (1990) and Casino (1995) using trick photography and still shots.
Demme makes us feel like we’re the law enforcement agents using special cameras with the zoom in lens that zero in on the large envelopes of cash being exchanged between hands at airports.
Instead of the sounds of Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin singing in the background as business is conducted and drugs are consumed, we hear hard rock music from the 1970s and 80s. This isn’t cheap stuff. It’s the real thing. The grass they smoke causes one to laugh uncontrollably while the Columbian cocaine makes one ask why they can’t feel their face after snorting it.
The film traces Jung’s rise after graduating from high school as he moves to the sandy beaches of California with his hefty childhood pal, Tuna (Ethan Suplee), deciding how to earn a living.
It’s just his luck that Jung hooks up with an airline stewardess (Franka Potente) who just happens to know where she can get the best dope on the beach. The product comes from Derek Foreal (Paul Reubens), an eccentric hairdresser whom Jung decides to go into business full time with.
Soon, the young entrepreneur is actually talking like Al Pacino’s Tony Montana, the foul mouthed drug lord from Brian De Palma’s stylish blood drenched opus, Scarface (1983), saying how it’s time for he and his small band to expand their operations beyond the United States borders.
Perhaps Jung should have heeded some advice in terms of what to wear from Pacino’s Montana or how to store his cash. The guy rakes in so much dough that at one point, he literally has no room for a box containing his latest week’s earnings. Why then does he still dress like a long-haired hippie from the 60s? Perhaps he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.
The film introduces us to such real-life drug lords like Pablo Escobar who shakes hands with his traitors before ordering their executions. And the beautiful coke head Mirtha (Penelope Cruz) who eventually becomes Jung’s second wife and bears him a daughter.
When a former associate (Jordi Molla) he met in prison steals his main contact and puts the supplier on his own payroll, Jung, much like the statement Michael Corleone said in the Godfather films, tells Mirtha he is out of the business for good. Of course, we all know that won’t be for long.
I was torn at first as to what rating Blow deserves. I loved Reubens’ and Cruz’s performances. I especially enjoyed Ray Liotta who as Jung’s father (despite the closeness in age that both he and Depp share in real life) still loves his kid despite the fact he doesn’t approve of his lifestyle. Liotta’s most heart-wrenching scene comes near the end as he is in his old age and dying. Tears are coming down his eyes as he sits alone in the garage listening to his son’s voice on a tape George made and sent to him from prison.
Rachel Griffiths also turns in a noteworthy performance as Jung’s mother who acts like she doesn’t really know the illegal business her son is into. You can tell how she knows though by the way she walks glumly throughout the house and is always on the verge of tears.
As for Depp, he turns in a credible performance but the role and the film would have been better if he gave us a reason to feel sorry for him or if he convinced us that he really was content with both his lifestyle and the work he does.
The problem is everything Jung says is a lie. The people close to him know it. So did I.
Movies based on real life gangsters like Scorsese’s Goodfellas and Casino were as much about the characters as they were about life in the mob. That’s what made those movies exciting, if not hypnotic.
Blow is not so much about life in the drug underworld as it is about the life of George Jung. He had the money, the expensive cars, the nice homes, the best looking woman at his side and a kid to boot and lost it all. I find it a shame he didn’t look like he enjoyed the lifestyle. His personal story on the big screen is a depressing one to tell and that’s what really “blows.”
©4/25/01
R, 124m. 2001
Cast & Credits: Johnny Depp (George Jung), Penelope Cruz (Mirtha Jung), Franka Potente (Barbara), Paul Reubens (Derek Foreal), Ray Liotta (Fred Jung), Rachel Griffiths (Ermine Jung), Jordi Molla (Diego Delgado), Max Perlich (Kevin Dulli), Ethan Suplee (Tuna). Screenplay by David McKenna and Nick Cassavetes. Directed by Ted Demme.
So says George Jung, self made millionaire and drug kingpin who back in the 1980s was supposedly one of the largest importers of cocaine in the United States.
The comment is one among many questions people have about Jung who wonder throughout director Ted Demme’s ambitious, sometimes humorous but most often subdued biopic Blow, if he is really truly happy.
Jung, as played compellingly by a sad eyed Johnny Depp, is either asked by or tells family members that he is happy. Why then do they, as well as myself, have such a hard time believing that?
The trouble with Blow, based on a book by Bruce Porter and a screenplay by David McKenna and Nick Cassavetes, is I was never fully convinced the guy was ever happy even while he was out of prison. If Jung were a con artist, he’d have a hard time convincing anyone to buy into his scam. He has a hard enough time as it is speaking Spanish when in South America.
His character reminds me of the regret Al Pacino’s Michael Corleone had near the end of his life in The Godfather: Part III (1990) when he asked himself why was it that his father, played by Marlon Brando, was so loved by everyone, yet it was he who was the most feared. Michael died alone.
When we see Jung in prison, lonely, penniless with no one to turn to and dreaming of the day his daughter will visit him (we’re told in the film that she still hasn’t paid the real life Jung a visit), he might as well be dead.
I got the notion, however, that Jung had a fun ride while it lasted though from the impression watching the film’s first half despite the fact the dealer acts like a depressed party pooper through most of it.
Director Demme takes us on a stroll through memory lane as he incorporates dizzying images and character elements seen in better mobster movies. He does what Martin Scorsese did when he made Goodfellas (1990) and Casino (1995) using trick photography and still shots.
Demme makes us feel like we’re the law enforcement agents using special cameras with the zoom in lens that zero in on the large envelopes of cash being exchanged between hands at airports.
Instead of the sounds of Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin singing in the background as business is conducted and drugs are consumed, we hear hard rock music from the 1970s and 80s. This isn’t cheap stuff. It’s the real thing. The grass they smoke causes one to laugh uncontrollably while the Columbian cocaine makes one ask why they can’t feel their face after snorting it.
The film traces Jung’s rise after graduating from high school as he moves to the sandy beaches of California with his hefty childhood pal, Tuna (Ethan Suplee), deciding how to earn a living.
It’s just his luck that Jung hooks up with an airline stewardess (Franka Potente) who just happens to know where she can get the best dope on the beach. The product comes from Derek Foreal (Paul Reubens), an eccentric hairdresser whom Jung decides to go into business full time with.
Soon, the young entrepreneur is actually talking like Al Pacino’s Tony Montana, the foul mouthed drug lord from Brian De Palma’s stylish blood drenched opus, Scarface (1983), saying how it’s time for he and his small band to expand their operations beyond the United States borders.
Perhaps Jung should have heeded some advice in terms of what to wear from Pacino’s Montana or how to store his cash. The guy rakes in so much dough that at one point, he literally has no room for a box containing his latest week’s earnings. Why then does he still dress like a long-haired hippie from the 60s? Perhaps he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.
The film introduces us to such real-life drug lords like Pablo Escobar who shakes hands with his traitors before ordering their executions. And the beautiful coke head Mirtha (Penelope Cruz) who eventually becomes Jung’s second wife and bears him a daughter.
When a former associate (Jordi Molla) he met in prison steals his main contact and puts the supplier on his own payroll, Jung, much like the statement Michael Corleone said in the Godfather films, tells Mirtha he is out of the business for good. Of course, we all know that won’t be for long.
I was torn at first as to what rating Blow deserves. I loved Reubens’ and Cruz’s performances. I especially enjoyed Ray Liotta who as Jung’s father (despite the closeness in age that both he and Depp share in real life) still loves his kid despite the fact he doesn’t approve of his lifestyle. Liotta’s most heart-wrenching scene comes near the end as he is in his old age and dying. Tears are coming down his eyes as he sits alone in the garage listening to his son’s voice on a tape George made and sent to him from prison.
Rachel Griffiths also turns in a noteworthy performance as Jung’s mother who acts like she doesn’t really know the illegal business her son is into. You can tell how she knows though by the way she walks glumly throughout the house and is always on the verge of tears.
As for Depp, he turns in a credible performance but the role and the film would have been better if he gave us a reason to feel sorry for him or if he convinced us that he really was content with both his lifestyle and the work he does.
The problem is everything Jung says is a lie. The people close to him know it. So did I.
Movies based on real life gangsters like Scorsese’s Goodfellas and Casino were as much about the characters as they were about life in the mob. That’s what made those movies exciting, if not hypnotic.
Blow is not so much about life in the drug underworld as it is about the life of George Jung. He had the money, the expensive cars, the nice homes, the best looking woman at his side and a kid to boot and lost it all. I find it a shame he didn’t look like he enjoyed the lifestyle. His personal story on the big screen is a depressing one to tell and that’s what really “blows.”
©4/25/01
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