Tequila Sunrise (1988)

Director: Robert Towne                                 Writer: Robert Towne
Film Score: Lucas Vidal                                Cinematography: Danny Ruhlmann
Starring: Kurt Russell, Mel Gibson, Michelle Pfeiffer and Raul Julia

Tequila Sunrise tries . . . so . . . very . . . hard, but just can’t pull off what it promises. From the outside it looks like it has a lot going for it, superstar actors, an interesting premise, and cool location. But it doesn’t go anywhere, and Robert Towne’s script is the major problem. Towne is the Oscar winning writer of Chinatown, but had plenty of other credentials going into the picture, doing uncredited work on the screenplays for Bonnie and Clyde and The Parallax View as well as credited script for The Last Detail. This story has Mel Gibson and Kurt Russell as best friends. The only problem is Gibson is a drug dealer and Russell is the head of the L.A. narcotics squad. Right. I’m gonna believe that Gibson is going to be working in the back yard of his friend who knows what he’s doing.

But that aside, it gets even worse. Gibson is apparently trying to go straight, owning and operating a landscaping business and apparently working nine to five. The real impetus that drives the plot is DEA agent J.T. Walsh. Now the late Walsh is one of my favorite character actors of all time, in any era. He can make a ten-minute scene--which is all he had in Outbreak--and nearly steal the film. But Towne makes a joke out of him here and it’s painful to watch. Walsh becomes obsessed with catching Gibson and so he taps every phone he uses. Listening back to the conversations he believes that everything Gibson says is code for drugs or the drug trade. Since Gibson knows they’re looking at him Russell is equally sure that Gibson is never going to allow himself to get caught.

When Gibson starts frequenting an Italian restaurant owned by Michelle Pfeiffer, Walsh becomes convinced that the business is just a front for Gibson’s drug trade. Sigh. Since the phone taps aren’t getting anywhere, Russell decides to go in and attempt to woo Pfeiffer in order to find out, but he winds up falling for her instead. When she becomes curious herself about whether or not Gibson is a drug dealing she begins spending time with him, finds out the reason he wants to go straight is so he can woo her himself. It’s not an interesting love triangle because everything is just as it seems. There are no secrets and so that part of the script just bogs down the rest of the proceedings.

The scenes, and the plot line, involving Raul Julia are probably the best part of the film. Another actor who is no longer with us, he was a riveting personality onscreen, but even he can’t bring the necessary suspense to the film because his role is as a revelation, not suspense. The film tries desperately for neo-noir but can’t quite make it. The one bright spot is the film score featuring the brilliant David Sanborn. But at the end of the day that’s just not enough. The wild finish isn’t enough. The love triangle isn’t enough. Tequila Sunrise is a valiant attempt by a filmmaker who would go on to make some great films. But this isn’t one of them.