Stand Up Guys (2013)

Al Pacino. Christopher Walken. Alan Arkin. Starring as aging mobsters. What more do you need? Even if this film didn't have terrific writing (which it does), and patient directing (by Fisher Stevens), seeing these three inimitable pros onscreen together would still almost certainly be entertaining, right?

Stand-Up Guys is a buddy film, set in a world of mostly-retired, small-time gangsters. It opens with a fairly stock scene of Doc (Walken) leaning against his car outside a prison, waiting to pick up Pacino's Valentine ("Val" to his friends), who's just been released. They are literally sights for each other's sore eyes. As Val walks free, they trade friendly ball busting ("...you look like shit;" "you look worse...") and an awkward hug ("was that weird?"). After 28 years in the joint, Val is "ready to party." Doc's not so sure, but is eventually convinced to show his old pal a celebratory night on the town. By morning, each man will learn much about himself, as well as the bonds of friendship. 

Look at what age has wrought in these two men: Doc is tired. He lives alone, in a well-worn apartment that Val says is worse than prison. He paints sunsets and bridges, and watches cable tv. He drives an enormous relic of a car, and needs medication for hypertension, cataracts, and a stomach ulcer. Aside from the gun tucked in his trousers, his probably looks like the retirement of many men his age. 

Val, in contrast, isn't so eager to slow down. Just out of prison, he's back-and-better-than-ever. Away so long he doesn't understand newfangled car keys, modern music, or Viagra, he still shares a taste for fast cars, and the company of beautiful, hopefully easy-women. He convinces Doc to take him to a cozy brothel. With a limited (and impossibly beautiful) staff, and a manager who's slightly off (Lucy Punch), the place is as dated as they are. After an unfortunately abbreviated session, Val's surprised to discover his desire and ability don't always coincide. 

From there they head to a nearby greasy spoon. It's all dark wood, shadows and deep booths. The kind of place that serves steak and a rootbeer float. A cute, cheerful waitress called Alex (newcomer Addison Timlin) knows Doc as a regular. While Val digs into a hearty surf-and-turf, Doc excuses himself to make an urgent phone call to his boss. When he returns, visibly distracted, they talk about prison, their criminal pasts, and what the future might hold. Refueled and ready-to-go, Val suggests they forge on to a bar. For him, the night's just getting started. 

At the bar, Val approaches a group of much, much younger, attractive women, and crudely propositions them all. With disastrous results.  

Watch how Pacino plays this scene. Though eager and shamelessly lustful, Val is more Donnie Brasco than Michael Corleone. Despite initial rejection, he is undaunted. He realizes his mistake, isn't embarrassed, and instead takes a different tack. He returns to the table and, without being obnoxious this time, simply asks one woman to dance. "Just one dance. After it's over, you'll never see, or hear from me, again." Rather than talking at the women, he talks to them. What follows is one of the film's most magical moments, one that made me smile.

As the hours pass, the pair decide to rescue their former third partner-in-crime (Hirsch, played by Arkin, in little more than a cameo) from the mundane confines of his retirement home. They discover him sitting quietly in his dimly-lit room, wearing a robe and slippers, hooked to an oxygen tank. Hirsch was the group's getaway driver. Given the keys (or rather "button") to a stolen, modern, muscle car, Hirsch shows hasn't lost his touch. The trio speed through empty, dark streets like high-school kids out-too-late in daddy's car. They talk about the old days, and are happy to be back together.

Through the it all, Doc seems to be carrying an unseen weight. Though glad to see his old pals, he's also troubled at where their reunion might lead. Val senses this, too, though the obvious discord goes unmentioned. 

Pacino and Walken are terrific. Look closely at these two men. Witness their ragged hair, tired, sunken eyes, stooped backs, and slow gestures. Has either ever appeared so world weary? We can practically hear creaking as they walk. Without employing elaborate Hollywood make-up, or tired "old-people" cliches, both actors appear significantly older than their true age. This is a brave move for two cinematic leading men. Their characters have simply seen too much of life's harsh realities, are worn down from the lives they've led, and regret many of their choices. 

But they are also proud men, who believe in honor-among-thieves. They see egregious wrongs, and try to right them. Admittedly old-school, Val and Doc lament the unnecessary violence of contemporary crooks. Instead, theirs is somehow rationalized as a higher, more-respectable type of crime. Val weighs his sins and virtues in a brilliantly funny, Catholic-confessional scene, late in the film. Like the film's fantastically creative poster, these men are of another time. 

Across the board, the acting is strong and believable. Even minor characters are memorable and effecting, especially Timlin's waitress Alex. However, the film's strength derives from the performances of its two leads. Pacino and Walken have rare chemistry. Doc and Val possess an easy familiarity, that suggests deep friendship. Over the course of the night they quarrel about minor differences like a long-married couple, while at the same time sharing an undeniable fondness. Much of this is funny, to them and to us. We believe they've honestly come by their war stories through years of criminal misadventures.   

Several times while watching "Stand-Up Guys," I was reminded of the terrific 2008 film "In Bruges." Both are gangster films, that feature an insightful pair of articulate, lovable villains. Both are very funny, but also contain scenes that are surprisingly heartfelt. Amidst all the grumbling, implied menace, and occasional violence, these touching scenes sneak up on you, maybe because of all the requisite gangster trappings?

Like a play, the film has few settings, and even fewer characters. Pacino's Val is mostly energy, contrasting sharply with Doc's quiet, contemplative regret. All will be reveled by morning. Can each man reconcile what they've done with who they like to believe they are? Though nostalgic and wistful for their younger years, like the actors who portray them, Val and Doc refuse to believe their best days are behind them.