Cannon Films is the upstart low-budget studio that cranks out Chuck Norris and Charles Bronson movies, as well as the occasional “A” film, such as Fool for Love and Runaway Train. It’s just the kind of company where innovative talent can sometimes rise through the ranks of exploitation filmmaking and attract attention—as with Roger Corman’s company during the 1960s, which gave breaks to Francis Coppola, Martin Scorsese, Peter Bogdanovich, et al.
For its opening 20 minutes, Cannon’s Dangerously Close looks as though it’s going to be just such an attention-grabbing film. We’re introduced to a weird high school club called the Sentinels, who take their vigilante function quite seriously—seriously enough to engage in “an intense survival game” called Hunt-Down, in which they terrorize kids who have irked them in some way.
At school, the Sentinels are peace-keepers, and they look and speak like a bunch of buttoned-down, clean-cut creeps. Their leader (John Stockwell, who also had a hand in the script) approaches the editor (J. Eddie Peck) of the school paper, in an attempt to gain some healthy P.R.
He introduces Peck to his parents’ lavish mansion, to his gorgeous girlfriend, and to a local nightclub. Most of these opening scenes are shot in a grabby, non-realistic style, and there are some shots—the girl emerging from a pool at sunset, the camera traveling the length of a dinner table, the nightmarish lighting of the mad club—that’ll make you sit up straight in your seat.
All that jazz is thrown at you by director Albert Pyun, who is a person to watch. This isn’t just grandstanding; it defines the insane world of the Sentinels, and suggests how a kid could get seduced into that world.
Sad to say, the momentum from this impressive opening dribbles away surprisingly quickly. It soon turns conventional, with Peck uncovering evidence to finger the Sentinels in their illegal activities. Aside from a disturbing, Deliverance-like sequence involving the mock hanging of Peck’s punk friend in a forest, there’s little else to make the film distinctive.
It’s still more interesting than the average teen movie, but the power of those early scenes makes the film’s ultimate normality quite frustrating.
First published in the Herald, May 1986
All right, maybe it was grandstanding. I have not followed the career of Albert Pyun through the Z-movie underworld he has inhabited, so I can’t really be definitive on this. I only know that at the time, the first 20 minutes of Dangerously Close looked like something, and one always hopes a new auteur might be just around the corner, and you never know where the next Scorsese might pop up. This was also Carey Lowell’s first movie, for those of you who care about that.