Tequila Sunrise
Mel Gibson was my mom’s favorite actor for a long time. She had a ridiculous obsession with watching everything he made, sometimes upwards of 20 times in theatres. That stopped around the time of “The Passion of the Christ,” but it wasn’t really because of his antisemetic views, which have only become more pronounced over the years; she just lost interest. Her favorite film of his a lot of that time was the Robert Towne crime thriller, “Tequila Sunrise,” and while I’d seen parts of it, I never watched the entire film. This is the 30th anniversary of the start of her “crush” on Gibson, so I thought it’d be a good reason to watch the film finally.
Given what we know now of his views, as well as the domestic violence charges he faced in 2010, as well as other vile racial language he used at the time, it can seem unfathomable how he was ever one of the biggest stars in Hollywood history. But if you watch him in films like “The Year of Living Dangerously,” the “Lethal Weapon” movies and “Ransom” it’s not hard to see why at all. There was his physical allure to women, of course- he wasn’t People’s “Sexiest Man Alive” for nothing- but he did have a natural charisma to him to go along with a subtle- and not so subtle, at times- ability to form characters who were sometimes on the edge of sanity, sometimes romantic, but always compelling. “Tequila Sunrise” taps into some of that- mainly the physical allure, to be honest- and it’s not hard to see why it was her favorite of his, for that reason.
Robert Towne has never been as good a director as he is a writer. His film a decade after this on Steve Prefontaine was fine, but very vanilla in how it was made. “Tequila Sunrise” stands out for a lush hew given to it by the great cinematographer, Conrad L. Hall (who was nominated for an Oscar for the film), but the screenplay lacks the moral complexities and depth of Towne’s iconic, Oscar-winning script for “Chinatown,” even though it very much wants to be complex. This is probably as shallow a star vehicle as any studio released in the ’80s and ’90s, but it’s easy to see why it was a relative hit- the star power of Gibson, Kurt Russell and Michelle Pfeiffer is on maximum wattage throughout its 115 minutes.
Gibson plays Dale “Mac” McKussic, a drug dealer who’s trying to go straight; well, he says he’s going straight. When we first meet him, he’s with a friend on a deal he doesn’t realize is a deal (supposedly) when the person they meet comes in. One of the people who enter the room is Nick Frescia (Russell), Mac’s best friend from childhood, who happens to work in Narcotics for the police. Nick was put in the situation by Hal Maguire (J.T. Walsh), a DEA agent trying to bring down a Mexican drug deal named Carlos that Mac has worked with. Maguire doesn’t think Nick has it in him to bring his friend down, and as if this situation wasn’t complicated enough, they both fall in love with a restaurant manager (Jo Ann, played by Pfeiffer) at a place where Mac frequents.
Shot at Manhattan Beach in California, and scored with all the ’80s guitar and saxophone power Dave Grusin can muster, “Tequila Sunrise” has a great, intriguing premise- best friends on opposite sides of the law, a romantic triangle where, whoever wins, the audience wins anyway- and a good supporting cast, especially Raul Julia as a Mexican cop who comes to help ID Carlos. This movie is all about the stars, though, and Gibson, Russell and Pfeiffer enjoy playing this material, where beautiful people are involved with crime, sex and not knowing who is on who’s side. When I got to the love scene between Gibson and Pfeiffer- which comes an hour fifteen into the film, and has probably the most absurdly long establishing shot in filmed love scenes ever (seriously Robert, just get to the scene)- I got why this film was mom’s favorite of his- it wasn’t about the filmmaking, it was about how this might be the hottest Gibson ever was on-screen.
“Tequila Sunrise” is as fully packaged a vehicle for Gibson as he ever had, right up to the ending, which was not Towne’s initial idea. He does a good job playing a character who always seems honest with everyone he’s on-screen with, but whom we’re never entirely sure we can trust. Apart from the Towne connection, it’s easy to see why he agreed to it. And honestly, I like the story trajectory it takes; while the more honest ending for the character was nixed, the one that exists now is an honest Hollywood ending, and makes as much sense as anything else in the film.
