They Done Parker Dirty

One of the pleasures of mystery fiction is finding those series characters you love--the ones you can't get enough of, the ones whose adventures you snap up on sight.  We all have our own list of favorites.  Mine includes Robert B. Parker's Spenser, John D. MacDonald's Travis McGee, Lawrence Block's Matt Scudder, Sue Grafton's Kinsey Milhone, Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin, Stuart Kaminsky's Toby Peters, Max Allan Collins's Nate Heller, Andrew Vachss's Burke, Kinky Friedman's, um, Kinky Friedman, Gregory Mcdonald's Francis Xavier Flynn, Warren Murphy's Digger/Trace, and Patricia Highsmith's Tom Ripley.

Anybody besides
me remember this?

If I had to pick a single favorite character from all crime fiction, though, I wouldn't hesitate.  My favorite is Parker.

If you're reading this you probably know Parker, and if you don't, you should.  Created by the great Donald Westlake (writing under his pen name, Richard Stark), Parker is a single-minded, ruthlessly efficient thief.  He'll kill if absolutely necessary--or occasionally out of revenge--but for the most part Parker is interested in only one thing: getting away with the money.  Most of his adventures see him recruited by or putting together a team to pull an ambitious heist.  It inevitably goes wrong in some way, and much of the pleasure of the books is in watching Parker deal with that.  Often this involves finding himself at odds with The Outfit, which is what the mob calls itself in Parker's world.  There are 24 Parker novels, from 1962's The Hunter to 2008's Dirty Money.  All are richly deserving of your time.

Now, a nail-biting moment of suspense for a mystery fan is finding out that one of your favorite characters is getting a movie.  Will the makers of the film get them the way you do?

Parker has been put on film a number of times (though usually under a different name), played by actors ranging from Lee Marvin to Jim Brown to Mel Gibson.  Earlier this month, the latest Parker film dropped on Amazon Prime: Play Dirty, starring Mark Wahlberg as Parker.  If you're mostly familiar with Wahlberg from his meathead roles in various comedies and action franchises, this might seem like an odd choice, but Wahlberg is also capable of doing serious work and being appropriately intimidating--witness his performance in Martin Scorsese's The Departed.  The new Parker movie was co-written and directed by Shane Black, who's made some solid films in the crime genre--Lethal Weapon and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, for example.  When I watched the trailer, I was impressed that one of the other characters was Alan Grofield, a character from the books who steals to fund his acting career (and who was popular enough to star in four spin-off Stark novels himself).  I figured that the presence of Grofield meant that real fans were behind the movie, so I approached it with high hopes.

Those hopes came crashing to the ground fast.

I'll acknowledge the positives first.  Wahlberg is, I think, perfectly acceptable as Parker, capturing the character's intensity well.  He's almost always the smartest guy in the room, but if brute force is called for he won't hesitate to use it, and he'll usually win.  LaKeith Stanfield is even better as Grofield, the more affable, but no less competent, sidekick.  Tony Shalhoub does good work as the head of the Outfit.  Several other characters from the books are part of Parker's crew--the married thieves Ed and Brenda Mackey, the driver Stan Devers--indicating, again, that somebody who knows the books well was involved at some point.

The basic setup is also solid.  Play Dirty isn't based on a specific Parker novel, but the elements of the plot are familiar (I won't reveal anything here that isn't in the trailer).  At the start of the film, Parker is part of a racetrack robbery.  One of the crooks, a woman named Zen, betrays the crew and runs off with the take.  Parker sets out for revenge.  Learning that Zen took the cash as seed money for another, much larger job, he deals himself in.  Complicating this is the fact that three years ago Parker made a deal with the Outfit requiring him to stay out of New York City--and guess where Zen's heist is happening?

So far, so good.  So where does it all go wrong?  Well, on a technical level, the special effects in the action scenes are horrendous, completely taking me out of the world of the film.  The opening racetrack heist ends up with a cars v. horses chase on the track, with such bad CGI that the horses look like something out of Grand Theft Auto.  The cheap CGI gets even worse in later scenes, culminating in a subway crash that is utterly unconvincing.

I can forgive bad effects.  I can't forgive the fact that Parker acts less and less like Parker as the film goes on.  One of the hallmarks of the character is his determination to avoid unnecessary heat and exposure, but this Parker, by the halfway point of the film, is plotting an absurdly overblown heist that would have every federal agent in the country descending on New York and result in hundreds, if not thousands, of civilian casualties.  If that wasn't bad enough, he casually kills a celebrity (in what's meant to be a humorous cameo) for no good reason in the middle of a restaurant full of witnesses and cameras.  The real Parker would shoot a member of his crew who did something so dumb.

The movie's also full of logical leaps and absurdities totally at odds with the basically realistic content of Westlake's stories.  One of the targets of the New York heist, for example, is a figurehead recovered from a sunken treasure ship.  The thing is massive, and surely weighs tons, but it's moved easily from place to place by Parker's crew and others--at one point being transported in what seems to be an ordinary NYC subway car.  Watching how they managed to get it in there would have been more entertaining than the actual film.

The second half of the movie, with the crew bantering playfully and dealing with ridiculously contrived obstacles popping up at the most inconvenient times, doesn't play like a Parker plot.  It plays like a Dortmunder plot, so much so that it feels like this must have been a deliberate choice.  If you know Parker, you probably also know Dortmunder, Westlake's other hugely popular thief character.  The Dortmunder books (which Westlake published under his own name) are comedies--for my money, the best comic caper novels ever written.  There's a reason Westlake never wrote a Parker/Dortmunder crossover (not counting the book where Dortmunder's crew draws inspiration from a Parker novel).  The ice-cold Parker simply doesn't fit in Dortmunder's farcical world.  Trying to shoehorn him into it makes both him and the plot look silly.

The end result is a film that's just over two hours long, and feels twice that.  It's a shame.  My understanding is that this was meant to be the start of a new series, with Grofield even getting his own spin-off movies.  That would have been fun--if only Play Dirty was worth watching.  About the best I can say of the movie is that it's marginally more watchable than 2020's dreadful Spenser: Confidential, in which Wahlberg played Robert B. Parker's seminal Boston PI as a brutish ex-con vigilante.  I have no idea why a significant part of Mark Wahlberg's career is suddenly ruining my favorite characters.  I suppose in a few years he'll be playing Nero Wolfe, probably as a streetwise boxer or something.

What Parker should you watch instead of Play Dirty?  The conventional choice for best Parker adaptation is John Boorman's 1967 Point Blank, starring Lee Marvin in an adaptation of the first novel in the series (which was also filmed in 1999 as Payback, with Mel Gibson in the lead).  Point Blank is a good film, and Marvin is well-cast, but for my money it's a little self-consciously artsy, leaning into impressionistic and pseudo-psychedelic style at the cost of a straightforward story.

I prefer Taylor Hackford's 2013 Parker, based closely on the Stark novel Flashfire and starring Jason Statham as Parker.  Statham is terrific in the part, believably capturing the character's intelligence, determination, and menace.  There's a strong supporting cast, including Jennifer Lopez, Wendell Pierce, and Nick Nolte.  The plot and action sequences are exciting without ever being ramped up into the unbelievable.  I really regret that it apparently didn't do well enough for Statham to return to the part, but for fans of the character, it's very much worth seeking out.

(I'll also confess to a lingering fondness for a kind of alternate universe version of the character.  In the TV series Leverage, about a crew of con artists and grifters who team up to use their skills on the side of justice, Beth Riesgraf plays a master thief named, you guessed it, Parker.  I've never seen any confirmation of this, but that's surely a tribute to Stark's character, particularly since, to my knowledge, the character's first name is never revealed.  Riesgraf has a lot of fun with the part, and I really enjoyed the first run of the series, but I've never watched the reboot, Leverage: Redemption, in which she continues the character.  If you have, let me know if it's worth checking out.)

If you're looking for a truly great Parker adaptation, though, don't look to the screen--get thee to your local comics shop.  In 2009, the writer and artist Darwyn Cooke, with Westlake's blessing and endorsement, released a graphic novel version of The Hunter that is a pure pleasure to read, or even just to look at.  Cooke's monochromatic art is stunning, and his sense of pacing and design keeps the story humming along.  He's obviously a huge fan of the novels, and his love for them is apparent in every line.  It's a very faithful adaptation, set in the 1960s rather than being updated to modern times.

Cooke went on to adapt several more Parker books--The Outfit, The Score (my personal favorite among the novels), and Slayground--and had hopes of covering the entire series, but, tragically, his own death in 2016, at the age of just 53, prevented that from happening.  His Parker adaptations are still in print.  I particularly recommend the Martini Editions, gorgeous, oversized, slipcased hardcovers that feature a wealth of bonus features and let you really luxuriate in the art.

And of course it goes without saying that if you haven't read the Parker novels themselves, you need to close this window and go do so now.  You'll thank me later.

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Today in Mystery History: July 31

This is the third installment in my occasional stroll through the calendar.  Enjoy.

July 31, 1904.  David Dresser was born on this date.  You probably remember him as Brett Halliday, the creator of Miami private eye Mike Shayne.  His first novel was rejected more than 20 times, but he went on to write 30 books, which were adapted for radio, TV, and a series of movies.  He stopped writing in 1958 but authors labelled "Brett Halliday" went on to write many more books about Shayne.  Until I was researching this I had no idea that the excellent movie Kiss Kiss Bang Bang was inspired by one of his books.

July 31, 1930.  The Detective Story Magazine Hour began broadcasting on radio today. This is mainly significant because of the show's announcer, a sinister presence played by an actor whose identity was kept firmly hidden.  He was known only as The Shadow and proved so popular that he spawned his own show, a magazine, and tons of novels written by Walter B. Gibson.  Bwaa ha ha!

July 31, 1940.  The British magazine The Sketch published "The Case of the Drunken Socrates" on this date.  It was part of a series of stories about a Czech refugee detective which Eric Ambler wrote while waiting to be drafted into the army. (Notice the title of the book that collected the tales.)  Of course, Ambler was much better known for his espionage thrillers.

July 31, 1948.  The issue of Saturday Evening Post with this date featured the first installment of The D.A. Takes A Chance, the next to last novel Erle Stanley Gardner wrote about district attorney Doug Selby.  Alas, the prosecutor was never as popular as that other lawyer Gardner created, the defense attorney whose clients always turned out to be innocent.

July 31, 1951.  On this date Mr. and Mrs. Rackell came to Nero Wolfe to seek the murderer of their nephew.  "Home to Roost" is probably the high point of Rex Stout's literary attacks on American Communists.  You can find it in his collection Triple Jeopardy.

July 31, 1975.  On this date the movie Bank Shot was released.  It starred George C. Scott in the unlikely role of Donald E. Westlake's hapless burglar John Dortmunder.  (Okay, his name was changed to protect the guilty.)    

 July 31, 1986.  Stanley Ellin died on this date.  He was one of the greatest author's of mystery short stories ever.  If you don't believe me, try "The Specialty of the House," "The Payoff," or "You Can't be a Little Girl All Your Life."

July 31, 2001. This date saw the publication of Nightmare in Shining Armor, part of Tamar Myers' series about a shop called the Den of Antiquity.  I haven't read it, but I'm guessing it's a cozy.

The Good, the Bad, and the Positive

When I was in college I took a course in film studies and one day the professor talked to us about bad movies and good movies.  Specifically he said that a good bad movie was better than a bad good movie.

If he defined his terms I don't recall but I think we can get the gist of it.  A bad movie is mere entertainment.  A good movie is about something besides the plot.  It has a message, a theme, a view of the world.  And my professor was saying that a good bad movie - one that "merely" tries to entertain and succeeds - is a better flick than one that tries to change your life and fails.

I realize that some of you are even now composing messages that argue with pretty much every word in the paragraph above.  That's fine.  But let's kick the idea around a bit.

One of the problems, of course, is that a well-done piece of "mere entertainment" is probably as carefully thought through and layered as the allegedly deeper "good" movie.  The first Star Wars movie, for example, is a great popcorn flick but George Lucas certainly knows his Joseph Campbell and the archetypal Hero's Journey is baked solidly into the film's DNA.  

Or take Psycho, which I imagine we would agree with the professor is a good or even great, bad movie.  Hitchcock himself described it as a fun movie, like a trip "through the haunted house at a fairground." But perhaps unlike  many of the thousands of slasher films that it inspired, there is a lot of meaning bubbling under the surface.

For example: next time you watch it, starting from the very first scene watch for references to parents, living or dead, who impose on and  distort the lives of their children.  You will find that this is mentioned several times before the Bates Motel looms up on the dark road.  Someone - Robert Bloch who wrote the novel, or Joseph Stefano who wrote the screenplay, or director Hitchcock - went to a lot of trouble to put these nuggets in.  Is it establishing a theme, as the creators of "good movies" might call it, or merely increasing suspense through foreshadowing?  Or is that a distinction without a difference?

Of course, you can argue that every movie has a message.  Jim Britell noted that "the message of most American movies is that only Batman or Clint Eastwood can go up against Mr. Big."  Not very empowering.  

In the world of fiction as opposed to film, the distinction is likely to be called genre fiction versus mainstream fiction (or even just "literature.")  Crime fiction, the reviewers will tell us, is just entertainment, with no deeper message.

Or is it?

Let's take Rex Stout's Gambit, which is a standard whodunit (with one exception that we will get to).  In the first scene private detective Nero Wolfe is burning a copy of Webster's Third International Dictionary in his fireplace.  His main objection is that the book is descriptive rather than prescriptive.  That is, it tells you how words are being used, not how they should be used.  Then a client arrives and we move into a murder investigation and the dictionary is not mentioned again.

However...

All the characters we meet in the book have a strange relationship with the idea of knowledge.  Some insist vehemently on something they know, which turns out to be wrong. ("I know you!" snaps Inspector Cramer, completely misinterpreting Wolfe's motives.) The enchanting beauty of one character,  who is by no means stupid, is twice described as being related to her giving the impression of knowing nothing.  Others have important information but don't know how to use it.  The murderer misuses specialized knowledge to commit the crime.  

The unusual thing about the book is  that Nero Wolfe knows the identity of the murderer with almost a quarter of the novel left.  What he does in the last chapters, and what makes him the hero, is figure out how to use the knowledge he has acquired in order to defeat the bad guy.

In short, the entire novel is a polemic against that dictionary, pointing out that knowing something (like the meaning of a word) is not enough.  You have to know how to use what you know.

One more example.  Good Behavior is one of Donald E. Westlake's best comic crime novels.  In it, his hapless burglar, John Dortmunder, organizes a major robbery in a skyscraper  but his real purpose is to rescue a nun who is being held prisoner in the penthouse.

Or putting it another way: like any fairy tale knight, his quest is to rescue a maiden from a tower. "She'd have to let her hair down a hell of a distance, wouldn't she?" Dortmunder muses.

And once you notice that fact, images of chivalry pop up in the book with great regularity.  (The villain is a wealthy industrialist named Ritter... as in Knight-Ritter?)

Would we say Westlake is trying to do more than entertain, or that his thematic elements are simply one of the things that makes the book such fun?  And again, does it matter?

I'm going off on a tangent now.  On rare and wonderful occasions something I have written has received a review.  People will ask me whether it got a good review.  I usually respond (if it is true) that it received a positive review.  Which is not the same thing.

A good review is one which  allows the reader to accurately  decide whether the book/story/movie is one they would enjoy.  That is not quite the same as a positive review.

Several decades ago I read a newspaper review of Douglas Adam's first novel, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  It was a negative review.  The critic basically said that this was a patheitic example of what passed for humor in science fiction.  To prove his point he included several examples of the alleged humor.

I read them and when I managed to stop laughing I said: "I need this book immediately!"  The review was not positive, but it was good - because it told me that 1) the critic had no sense of humor, and 2) Adams was brilliant.  

And that's all I have to say, which is good.  I'm positive.