The Grittier Side of Cinema Seattle

Ah, Seattle. Home to Starbucks, Amazon, and the Seattle Seahawks, who today battle the New England Patriots to see who gets to scamper home with Lombardi trophy at the conclusion of Super Bowl LX (the Hawks hoping this won’t be a repeat of the last Seahawks/Patriots Super Bowl match-up in 2015, which was brought to a heartbreaking end for Seattle due to one of the most notorious play calls in Super Bowl history).

And then there’s the movies. What comes to mind when you think of a typical “set in Seattle” film? Those inevitable shots of ferries placidly moving back and forth across Puget Sound; the Space Needle, the 605-foot landmark that stands on the Seattle Center grounds (built for the 1962 World’s Fair); the boisterous activity at the Pike Place Market, probably including a vendor throwing a fish. You know, the kind of thing you might see in feel-good mainstream features like Singles or Sleepless in Seattle.

But there’s another side to the city, one that’s not full of lazy Frenchmen-wear-berets and New Yorkers-talk-loudly stereotypes. And where are the movies capturing that Seattle? The one of overcast skies and perennial drizzle; hard-drinking cops and trash-strewn alleyways; grim and grey architecture; shady characters always on the prowl for another mark to fleece.

It’s a Seattle old-timers look back on with much fondness, and its spirit lives on in these cinematic delights. These films deliver a portrait of a pre-gentrified Seattle (without a single Starbucks coffee cup in sight!), one that’s undeniably dark and gritty, but also very human and alive. A city populated by troubled characters going through troubled times. And they’re a heck of a lot more fun than watching Meg Ryan in yet another recycled rom-com.

(PS: Go Hawks!)

Cinderella Liberty (1973)

John Baggs (James Caan) is a sailor stuck in Seattle when the Navy misplaces his personal records. He spends his time hanging out in what was then the city’s red light district along First Avenue, all gaudy porno theaters and adult book stores, eventually striking up a relationship with Maggie, a prostitute (Marsha Mason, who received an Oscar nomination for her performance). The actors blend into the sleazy environment with such ease that while filming one scene on the street, a drunken bum accidentally blunders into the shot and panhandles the couple; neither actor breaks character, and Caan slips the drunk some money. The two, along with Maggie’s teenage son, form a makeshift family for a time, struggling to eke out some happiness despite confronting a series of obstacles, offering a ray of hope in what could otherwise have been a dreary tale.

McQ (1974)

This film’s ruthlessness is established immediately, with four people (three of them police officers) getting gunned down in the first ten minutes. John Wayne is the title character, a no nonsense cop who drives a green Pontiac Firebird Trans Am, thinks nothing of smacking around a suspect in the men’s room (hey, it’s not police brutality if it’s justified!), and takes no guff from them radical hippie types (when a longhair in custody calls McQ a pig, he receives a swift kick in retaliation).

When McQ is forced to resign due to his heavy-handed approach in investigating the murders, hey, no problem; he simply purchases a MAC-10 submachine gun from his favorite gun shop and goes on his way. There’s more than a few bumps on the remaining miles of this bad road, including some double crosses, a nifty car chase, and a final bloodbath on one of Washington state’s coastal beaches (those submachine guns can come in handy). A cast that includes the likes of Eddie Albert, Colleen Dewhurst, and Diana Muldaur gives the film an additional boost in quality.

Scorchy (1976)

This Grade B classic has one of the best tag lines of any film poster: “She’s killed a man, been shot at, and made love twice already this evening… and the evening isn’t over yet!” Scorchy, with Connie Stevens as the title character (an undercover narcotics agent), has everything you want in an exploitation flick: drug smugglers, gun fights, gratuitous nudity, and hints of lesbianism (a plotline sadly not developed, and really, would the savvy Scorchy be that shocked to be hit on by a woman?).

And car chases! If nothing else, fast-forward thirty-two minutes in for one of the most spectacular chase scenes ever filmed in Seattle, a nine minute extravaganza that takes you all over the downtown core and ends with a plunge into Puget Sound. You don’t even need to see the rest of the movie, come to that. Though if you did cut short your viewing you would miss this pithy exchange between Scorchy and her supervisor: “You need a good blowjob.” “You’re a fruitcake, you bitch.”

They don’t write ‘em like that anymore!

Streetwise (1984)

In the early 1980s, Seattle was deemed “America’s most livable city” by the United Conference of Mayors. This Oscar-nominated documentary presented a different side of the story in this searing portrait of Seattle’s homeless street kids. Just a few blocks away from where the tourists frolic at the Pike Place Market, the young teens congregate at the corner of Second Avenue and Pike Street, panhandling, dumpster diving, scheming how to get fake IDs so they can sell their blood (you have to be 18 to do so), and turning tricks. One of the teenage prostitutes, Erin “Tiny” Blackwell, is just 14; her mother describes her daughter’s activities as “just a phase.”

Though disturbing and at times shocking, the film never falls into despair. There’s no voiceover narration telling you how you’re “supposed” to respond; the only dialogue comes from the kids themselves, revealing their underlying humanity, despite their impoverished circumstances. The film’s director, Martin Bell, returned to Seattle to direct the feature film American Heart (Jeff Bridges playing an ex-con who struggles to connect with his teenage son) inspired by his experience making Streetwise.

Trouble in Mind (1985)

Director/screenwriter Alan Rudolph recast Seattle as the noirish “Rain City,” imagining that the city’s Monorail is the primary mode of public transportation (in reality, it only has two stops; downtown and the Seattle Center). Kris Kristofferson is John Hawkins, a former cop/ex-con who returns to Rain City in the hopes of making a fresh start. Instead, he lets his eye linger too long on Georgia (Lori Singer), a naïve blonde, much to the displeasure of her boyfriend Coop (Keith Carradine), a small-time crook who sports a snazzy rockabilly wardrobe complete with kiss curl.

Like Twin Peaks, which would arrive in just five years, Trouble in Mind seems to be set in a free-floating time period, ostensibly modern day, but with decided echoes of the past; it wouldn’t be a huge surprise to find Philip Marlowe sitting at a neighboring table at Wanda’s Café (run by a long-suffering Geneviève Bujold). Divine nearly steals the film as the male crime boss Hilly Blue (whose lavish home is the Asian Art Museum in Volunteer Park).

House of Games (1987)

And we’ve saved the best for last. It’s David Mamet’s first outing as a movie director, working from his original screenplay. His then-wife Lindsay Crouse plays a psychiatrist who inadvertently (or so she thinks…) gets involved with a gang of con artists who hang out at the kind of seedy Seattle bars that have long since fallen prey to the wrecking ball, more’s the pity (the House of Games pool hall, on the south side of Union Street, was located where the performing arts venue Benaroya Hall now stands).

With much of the movie shot at night, this is another noir-dipped drama set amongst shadows and rain-slicked streets, plot twists and double crosses, and generous servings of Mamet’s typically terse dialogue (“Let’s talk turkey, Mike”). Joe Mantegna is the smooth operator who lures Crouse into what’s less a house of games than a hall of mirrors; to say more would spoil the (many) surprises that, in this case, you should definitely watch from beginning to end. And when you do, watch out for William H. Macy in a small role as a Marine awaiting a wire transfer.

 

Let’s all sing about Seattle.