To Live and Die in L.A.
***/**** Image B Sound A- Extras A
starring William L. Petersen, Willem Dafoe, John Pankow, Debra Feuer
screenplay by William Friedkin and Gerald Petievich, based on the novel by Petievich
directed by William Friedkin
by Bill Chambers William Friedkin's To Live and Die in L.A. sprang from the director's mid-'80s preoccupation with music-video nihilism, and as such has peaks and valleys depending on the degree of montage a sequence calls for. The tin-ear that Friedkin contracted sometime after the Seventies, which drove him to fatally second-guess Paul Brickman's Swiftian screenplay for Deal of the Century, imbues many an exchange in To Live and Die in L.A. with authenticity (only real people flounder this much trying to sound hard-boiled), but the stylish visuals in turn butt heads with the dialogue, prompting us to wish for a slicker whole. The silliest repartee also throws the symbolic-to-the-point-of-corny names of central figures Chance (William L. Petersen) and Masters (Willem Dafoe) into tautological relief: Chance is a Secret Service agent who thrives on risk (fittingly, a found poker chip decides him in pursuit of the bad guy), while Masters, who's like Patrick Bateman without the civility, is a painter who has mastered the art of making funny-money, as is demonstrated for us in a breathtaking collection of how-to shots that single-handedly justifies Friedkin's dabble in the MTV aesthetic.
Although To Live and Die in L.A. is based on the fictionalized memoir of a former federal agent (Gerald Petievich, who co-scripted the adaptation with Friedkin), its plot betrays a more intimate knowledge of Hollywood formulae than Secret Service minutiae; ironically, the twist most reflective of the job's grim reality came from Friedkin and his weird impulsiveness. Chance is a hotheaded G-man installed in Los Angeles whose older, wiser partner Hart (an appropriately sensitive counterpoint to Chance) is, uh-oh, a few days from retirement. (Chance even gifts him with a state-of-the-art fishing rod.) When Hart (Michael Greene) meets the wrong end of Masters's 12-gauge, revenge-minded Chance instigates a series of double-crosses that are either cooly or feverishly illustrated by Friedkin, depending on the beat of Wang Chung's score.
Chance accepts a new partner, Vukovich ("Mad About You"'s John Pankow). The pair feigns interest in purchasing a large sum of counterfeit cash from Masters–but they need bigger funds to ingratiate themselves than their department can sanction. So they hatch a plan to sting another crook for the rest of the dough, resulting in a wild car chase against the flow of traffic on the L.A. freeway. Friedkin mandated to the film's stunt coordinators that if they couldn't top the vehicular frenzy of The French Connection, the sequence wouldn't last through post-production; I suspect it was an effective but no less idle threat, because cutting a set-piece that took five weeks to shoot is not a realistic option, especially for a director well past his box-office prime. Such is the long route to saying that To Live and Die in L.A. did not dethrone The French Connection as King of Car Chases, if only for the latter's unrelenting velocity. (Chance and Vukovich, pricelessly whimpering in the backseat (for real, since Pankow is a passenger on Friedkin's maniac express for real), are obliged to brake at regular intervals.) Still, when the film is visceral, it's alive, and it's visceral just often enough to allay the infuriatingly generic shortcuts Friedkin and co. take to a finale that throws To Live and Die in L.A. triumphantly off its Hollywood-conventional axis.
THE DVD
MGM's long-gestating DVD release of To Live and Die in L.A. features okay video but a 5.1 remix that respects and improves upon what was a sophisticated sound design to begin with. (Friedkin always does overtime in the mixing studio.) The 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen image could've used more finessing in the telecine booth: While the source print is clean and there's little to no edge enhancement, Robby Müller's parched cinematography is beset by a brown murk in scenes that rely on available light, and the whole transfer is characterized by an Eighties softness. The Dolby Digital 5.1 track is rollicking, however, with Wang Chung's legendary compositions beefed up in bass–this isn't the thin, nasally audio to which fans are accustomed. For comparison's sake, toggle over to the brittle French Dolby Surround option, which presumably approximates the original mix. Friedkin contributes a feature-length commentary that benefits from his distance to the project (his fresh-from-the-multiplex yakkers for Rules of Engagement and The Hunted lack perspective); quickly breaking his promise to avoid screen-specific statements (though dodging play-by-play), "Billy" elaborates on, for starters, his Eastwoodian approach to filming rehearsals and the Secret Service's attempts to strong-arm him in post-production.
Glenn "DVD Savant" Erickson edits yet another batch of Friedkin retrospectives. Michael Arick's tight and compelling "Counterfeit World: The Making of To Live and Die in L.A." (29 mins.) devotes its final third to reminiscing about the car chase and is interspersed with production stills that show a set profuse with cigarette smoke. Interviewee Dafoe appears to have changed his tune in the years following the picture's theatrical debut: Once condemning To Live and Die in L.A. in the press for the homophobic slant to its violence, he couldn't extol Friedkin's artistic virtues with toothier admiration here. "Deleted Scene" (4 mins.) and "Alternate Ending" (9 mins.) featurettes find Friedkin lamenting the removal of an encounter–subsequently presented for our evaluation in a sub-VHS quality dub that does nothing to diminish its intensity–between Vukovich and the soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Vukovich (Tracy Swope), as well as recalling with disdain an epilogue (again included thereafter) forced on him by the film's financiers in which Chance and Vukovich are reassigned to an Alaskan outpost! (The opportunity to see this oft-rumoured denouement is a precious one, like discovering an urban legend to be true.) A photo gallery, the teaser and theatrical trailers for To Live and Die in L.A., plus trailers for La Femme Nikita, Fargo, and Dark Blue round out this modest treasure-trove of a platter.
116 minutes; R; 1.85:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 5.1, French Dolby Surround, Spanish DD 2.0 (Mono); CC; English, French, Spanish subtitles; DVD-9; Region One; MGM
