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A circular pan gives Singapore at dawn, the American expatriate (Ben Gazzara) is already up and about. Pimp, kibitzer, diplomat in his own mind, closet dreamer, artist in the wilderness. The cover is a business under audit, the English accountant (Denholm Elliott) prefers a game of squash to an erotic show, a fraternité develops over the years. "Will you quit apologizing? Fucking English national pastime!" "It's all we got left." The aspiration is a jovial bordello with merry girls and Louis Armstrong tunes, "the competition" means triad hoods with knives under floral shirts. (Forcible tattoos are part of the intimidation, the protagonist chuckles wryly as a colleague translates the profanities carved into his forearms.) New times to adapt to, moral tests to face. "Some people when they're desperate, they think about suicide. Me, I'm different. I think about murder." Peter Bogdanovich taking stock of things, discovering a new style, connecting to the hustler's quandaries. Seedy detail and tender longing for days, a humid city caught in Robby Müller's restless phosphorescence. "I just want a yacht, a big mansion, a peacock or something to guard me, you know, walk around all day with a bowler hat, silk pajamas, play golf, smoke real Havanas. Who knows?" Cassavetes holds formal sway, McCabe & Mrs. Miller is visible throughout, the gaggle of rowdy Brits evokes the reporters from His Girl Friday. The director has his self-portrait and also his own Mephistopheles, smoothly turning up as a shady CIA man pushing for the blackmail of a visiting politician (George Lazenby). Worlds vanish or change names, it is said, among them is New Hollywood, thus the old joke about quitting showbiz. "A whorehouse is always a good investment." With Monika Subramaniam, James Villiers, Josh Ackland, Rodney Bewes, Mark Kingston, Lisa Lu, Judy Lim, and Joseph Noël.
--- Fernando F. Croce |