Jackson and Cage pull the rug out from phony early 90s liberals
Samuel L. Jackson may be one of the few actors living whose presence in a movie trailer makes the audience’s attention and interest levels jump from zero to sixty in a heartbeat. The actor is one of the most iconic names in modern cinema and continues to carve out one unforgettable character portrayal after another as evidenced by his latest turn in The Hitman’s Bodyguard.
Starring alongside Ryan Reynolds, Jackson plays the hitman of the title while Reynolds plays the man assigned to protect him until he gives important testimony in a war crimes case. The vehicle is a good one for Jackson, whose unique and intense personality was just made for the buddy comedy. However while The Hitman’s Bodyguard serves him well, it doesn’t match the memories I have of watching Jackson square-off opposite Nicolas Cage in the early 90s buddy comedy, Amos & Andrew.
In Amos & Andrew, Jackson plays Andrew Sterling; a celebrated figure of prominence in the African-American community who is well-known around the country. When he is unpacking his belongings in the summer home he and his wife have just bought on a predominantly white, yet supposedly liberal, island community, neighbors Phil and Judy Gillman (Michael Lerner and Margaret Colin) mistake Andrew for a thief. After the pair contact the police, and eventually the media, Chief Toliver (Dabney Coleman) decides the best way of avoiding a scandal is to send in traveling white-collar criminal Amos O’Dell (Cage) into Andrew’s home as an intruder with the intent of capturing him for the cameras, before sending him off to Canada. However the plan goes south when Amos has a change of heart after meeting the uncompromising Andrew.
Don’t be taken by the obvious racial politics to be found here, Amos & Andrew makes sure that it earns its place as a buddy comedy. Plenty of recurring touches from writer/director E. Max Frye’s script make sure of this. There’s the totally ineffective hostage negotiator on hand (Bob Balaban) who is about as tough as a rainbow, the complete ineptitude of Officer Donaldson (Brad Dourif) whose actions account for most of the ensuing mayhem and the fact that Chief Toliver’s megaphone never works, which function as recurring gags. Adding to this is the revelation that Phil and Judy are into bondage (a hilarious moment which leads Andrew to bewilderingly shake his head and mutter: “white people”) and the fact that everyone but the chief himself has heard about “THE Andrew Sterling.” As if that weren’t enough, there’s the endless differences in pedigree between the two main characters, which provides its own share of laughs. “How did you end up on this island,” Andrew asks Amos. “I thought it was Canada,” Amos innocently answers. “Maybe you’ve heard of the Pulitzer Prize,” Andrew states when he’s describing who he is to Amos. “You won that,” Amos asks. “I did,” replies Andrew, which prompts Amos to further ask: “How much you win?”
While it is a comedy, Amos & Andrew cannot help but end up as something of a character study between the two men at the center and what they represent. Certainly a reversing of the two’s roles would have made for a worthwhile film on its own, but it’s the fact that the screenplay features a pair of characters going against the stereotypes usually associated with them which makes the movie somewhat explosive. In some scenes, this fact makes Amos & Andrew a movie about class and breeding rather than race, even after Andrew describes himself as: “a thorn on the side of the white man.” It’s interesting to see how Andrew looks down on Amos, barely acknowledging his presence, even when the criminal is toting a shotgun, and only speaking to him as a way of making sure he knows they’re worlds apart. Amos meanwhile, looks at him in the most color blind fashion in the beginning and engages him in conversation as if he’s a stranger next to him in a bar, before eventually adopting him as his partner-in-crime. In fact, it becomes interesting to note that when Amos does in fact engage in a conversation about race with Andrew, it’s because the latter brings it up.
When the duo begins challenging each other’s stereotypes, as well as the hang-ups attached to them, Amos & Andrew takes an unapologetically candid turn. There are plenty of moments where traits from both characters reveal how they became who they are; the most memorable one being the story of a teenaged Andrew’s father washing his mouth out with soap after using street slang, which made him sound too black. But the way the two read each other is beyond spot on, particularly where Amos’s interpretation of Andrew is concerned. “You think the whole world is against you because you’re black. Something don’t go your way, it’s because you’re black. They’re out of beer at the supermarket, it’s because you’re black. It rains and you get wet, it’s because you’re a black man,” shouts Amos before adding: “That’s all just as crazy as thinking that everybody with black skin is your brother.” When Andrew angrily asks in a later scene: “What the hell do you know about being black,” Amos calls him out by replying: “I know for all your talk, you’re about the whitest black man I ever saw.”
Amos could well be one of Cage’s first mainstream “crazy” roles. His character’s unpredictability and the knowledge that he’s got very little to lose gives the actor free range to play around with the role, which he surely does. In a wonderful contrast, Jackson enjoys a solid turn as the film’s straight man. Andrew has Amos’s number from the moment he sees him, but the way the latter brings out the former’s frustrations gives Jackson plenty to sink his teeth into. As for the rest of the cast, Coleman is a real hoot as a narcissistic police chief more concerned with his image than his citizens’ safety, while Lerner and Colin make the perfect pair of yuppie neighbors everyone is forced to deal with at one point or another. However it’s watching the usually intense Dourif play the fool as Donaldson which is a constant surprise.
For all of its good intentions, Amos & Andrew became one of the biggest flops of both actors careers. Maybe the reason for this was because the film dealt with a premise which must have rubbed people the wrong way, or contained underlying ideology that many would have preferred not to have acknowledged. Or perhaps the film just didn’t contain enough humor interspersed within its message-driven plot to lighten up the mood. In any case, Amos & Andrew failed to bring back even half of what it cost to make after being given the cold shoulder by both critics and audiences.
Whether it was intentional, or just good timing, Amos & Andrew was a film made for the Rodney King era of the early 90s when racial tensions were at a more-than-noticeable high. Seeing the film again in August 2017, it’s both tragic and frightening at how relevant it is today. This is true in watching Donaldson act too fast by shooting at Andrew who is merely trying to shut off his car alarm, and in Phil’s motives for calling the police in the first place (“When you see a black man on this island with his arms full of stereo equipment, you know damned good and well what he’s doing.”) Andrew’s sad comment on the lunacy of the situation: “It was supposed to be the kind of place where you don’t lock your doors at night, where you don’t count your change at the grocery store, where a man in his own home doesn’t have to worry about being shot at and nearly killed by the local police simple because he’s black,” no doubt meant to show the outrageousness of the film’s events, yet now seem more probable than ever.
In an effort to end this column on something of a more positive note, it should be known that Amos & Andrew features a theme song by Sir-Mix-A-Lot entitled “Suburbian Nightmare.” It is a well-made piece of early 90s hip-hop in which the whole film is hilariously sent up with lyrics such as “I may not look like Beaver, but you don’t either,” which alone is seriously reason enough for checking out this obscure, yet still timely comedy.
