Harry Northrup Movies

Lourdes Benedicto makes her first series appearance as new pediatrics intern Rena Trujillo. The episode's pre-eminent crisis occurs at the site of a commuter-train accident, where Carter (Noah Wyle) and Kovac (Goran Visnjic) are forced to extreme measures to save the life of trapped firefighter Larkin (Jeffrey Dean Morgan). The doctors also try to rescue a woman (Stacy Haiduk) who, though impaled by a shard of medal, is more concerned about the health of her son. Likewise at the scene of the accident, Corday (Alex Kingston) begins to go into contractions; and even psychiatrist Legaspi (Elizabeth Mitchell) makes an appearance when the person who caused the crash is located. Finally, an ongoing story arc is wrapped up as the dying Bishop Stewart (John Cromwell) tries to assuage Kovac's (Goran Visnjic) guilt over "deserting" his family during the Balkan wars. Advertised as ER's 150th episode, "The Crossing" is number 151 in the current syndication package. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Teen-aged waitress Heather Langekamp is impregnated by college student Patrick Cassidy. Heather's kindly "loser" boss Michael Cole provides aid and comfort for the lonely, confused girl. Her father Ed Lauter wants to finance an abortion, but Cole insists upon taking responsibility. He marries Langenkamp, even though she hasn't expressed any overt love for him. The reasons are slightly vicarious: Cole had once been the suitor of Heather's mother. A novel by John Gardner was the source for the take-its-time Nickel Mountain. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

CB radios provide a human connection between the lives of a collection of varied characters in Jonathan Demme's energizing film that exploits the CB radio craze of the mid-'70s. Chrome Angel (Charles Napier) is a truck driver who has an accident and is laid up recuperating at the home of Hot Coffee (Alix Elias). A road-roaring philanderer, Chrome Angel is a bigamist with a wife, Dallas (Ann Wedgeworth), in Dallas and another wife, Portland (Marcia Rodd), in Portland. The two women converge in a small town where Spider (Paul Le Mat) and his embittered brother Blood (Bruce McGill) are both trying to date Electra (Candy Clark). The characters' CB monikers weave the characters into the same CB waveband, exemplifying the interconnectedness of an American subculture. ~ Paul Brenner, Rovi

Madeleine Stowe, Mary Stuart Masterson, Andie MacDowell, and Drew Barrymore are the stars of this Western whose main gimmick is making heroes into heroines. They all start out as prostitutes, as Cody (Stowe) shoots a drunken colonel who attempts to molest Anita (Masterson). She is about to be lynched for defending her friend when the other "bad girls" ride in and rescue her, pursued by detectives. The rest of the film follows their adventures as they get caught up in hostage situations, bank robberies, shootouts, and romantic interludes with handsome young cowboys with never a hair out of place or an unsightly smudge of Western dust. Amazingly, all four former prostitutes are able to ride, shoot, rope, and fight as well. Bad Girls is not likely to be thought of as a realistic view of how women lived in the Old West. ~ Don Kaye, Rovi

In this multiple Oscar-winning thriller, Jodie Foster stars as Clarice Starling, a top student at the FBI's training academy whose shrewd analyses of serial killers lands her a special assignment: the FBI is investigating a vicious murderer nicknamed Buffalo Bill, who kills young women and then removes the skin from their bodies. Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) wants Clarice to interview Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a brilliant psychiatrist who is also a violent psychopath, serving life behind bars for various acts of murder and cannibalism. Crawford believes that Lecter may have insight into this case and that Starling, as an attractive young woman, may be just the bait to draw him out. Lecter does indeed know something of Buffalo Bill, but his information comes with a price: in exchange for telling what he knows, he wants to be housed in a more comfortable facility. More important, he wants to speak with Clarice about her past. He skillfully digs into her psyche, forcing her to reveal her innermost traumas and putting her in a position of vulnerability when she can least afford to be weak. The film mingles the horrors of criminal acts with the psychological horrors of Lecter's slow-motion interrogation of Clarice and of her memories that emerge from it. ~ Mark Deming, Rovi

This grim tale is based upon actual events and chronicles the coming-of-age of two high-school seniors living in gritty Caddo, Texas in 1960. The teens lose their innocence when they become involved in the corruption and seediness that exists about their town after its leading citizen, the town judge and the town sheriff begin working on the latter's re-election campaign. The sheriff's challenger is desperate to win and so engineers the release of a dangerous convicted killer, whose actions he plans to blame upon the sheriff by making it look as if the incumbent accepted a bribe for the crook's early release. No one comes out clean in the end as the crook begins a vengeful killing spree and the corruption of both the judge and the sheriff are exposed. ~ Sandra Brennan, Rovi

Steve McQueen's penultimate film deals with a fascinating western legend, founded on an insightful script by Thomas McGuane and Bud Shrake. Unfortunately, the film was done in by the five directors --Don Siegel, Elliot Silverstein, James Guercio, William Wiard, and McQueen himself-- that were, at one point or another, attached to the project. The film deals with the infamous Texas gunslinger Tom Horn. Horn gained fame for a variety of exploits; he served with Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders and was the Pinkerton detective who captured the notorious outlaw Peg Leg Watson. But as Tom Horn begins, something in Horn (Steve McQueen) has snapped. Tom quits the Pinkertons and hires himself out to rancher John Coble (Richard Farnsworth) to assist him in putting an end to his problems with the local homesteaders and rustlers. But Horn performers his job with a chilling intensity, killing so many people with such bloodthirsty rage that it is even too much for Coble and the ranchers to take. When Horn's violence cannot be stopped, Coble has to take the law into his own hands to put a halt to Horn's bloodbath. ~ Paul Brenner, Rovi

Paul Schrader's directorial debut examines the trials of Detroit autoworkers living at the mercy of a heartless corporation and a corrupt union. Surviving from paycheck to paycheck, Checker Cab assembly linemen Zeke (Richard Pryor), Jerry (Harvey Keitel), and Smokey (Yaphet Kotto) scrape by and take pleasure in a few rounds of beer or bowling (and occasional illicit amusements). But when their money troubles pile up, Jerry and Smokey join Zeke in a desperate plan to steal cash from their local union office. Along with a piddling $600, they unexpectedly swipe evidence of union corruption. Deciding to use it for blackmail, the men discover instead how powerfully malevolent the union can be in a system that counts on petty divisiveness to keep the larger power structure intact. Inspired by stories of real-life disillusionment, Schrader and his brother/co-writer Leonard Schrader took on politically difficult issues of race and corporate labor, infusing the indictment of unions with a suggestion of post-Watergate paranoia about forces beyond the union that keep workers in their place. From the opening sequence of the assembly line to the final evocative freeze-frame, Schrader maintains an atmosphere of gritty realism, with the lead trio lending low-key dramatic force to a situation beyond their control. Too downbeat for a late '70s audience increasingly drawn to happier fare, Blue Collar flopped, yet it did earn Schrader critical accolades. Although he has reportedly since disowned the film, Blue Collar remains one of Schrader's best works, with Zeke and Jerry powered by the same sense of simmering frustration that would explode so effectively in Affliction two decades later. ~ Lucia Bozzola, Rovi

"All the animals come out at night" -- and one of them is a cabby about to snap. In Martin Scorsese's classic 1970s drama, insomniac ex-Marine Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) works the nightshift, driving his cab throughout decaying mid-'70s New York City, wishing for a "real rain" to wash the "scum" off the neon-lit streets. Chronically alone, Travis cannot connect with anyone, not even with such other cabbies as blowhard Wizard (Peter Boyle). He becomes infatuated with vapid blonde presidential campaign worker Betsy (Cybill Shepherd), who agrees to a date and then spurns Travis when he cluelessly takes her to a porno movie. After an encounter with a malevolent fare (played by Scorsese), the increasingly paranoid Travis begins to condition (and arm) himself for his imagined destiny, a mission that mutates from assassinating Betsy's candidate, Charles Palatine (Leonard Harris), to violently "saving" teen hooker Iris (Jodie Foster) from her pimp, Sport (Harvey Keitel). Travis' bloodbath turns him into a media hero; but has it truly calmed his mind?

Written by Paul Schrader, Taxi Driver is an homage to and reworking of cinematic influences, a study of individual psychosis, and an acute diagnosis of the latently violent, media-fixated Vietnam era. Scorsese and Schrader structure Travis' mission to save Iris as a film noir version of John Ford's late Western The Searchers (1956), aligning Travis with a mythology of American heroism while exposing that myth's obsessively violent underpinnings. Yet Travis' military record and assassination attempt, as well as Palatine's political platitudes, also ground Taxi Driver in its historical moment of American in the 1970s. Employing such techniques as Godardian jump cuts and ellipses, expressive camera moves and angles, and garish colors, all punctuated by Bernard Herrmann's eerie final score (finished the day he died), Scorsese presents a Manhattan skewed through Travis' point-of-view, where De Niro's now-famous "You talkin' to me" improv becomes one more sign of Travis' madness. Shot during a New York summer heat wave and garbage strike, Taxi Driver got into trouble with the MPAA for its violence. Scorsese desaturated the color in the final shoot-out and got an R, and Taxi Driver surprised its unenthusiastic studio by becoming a box-office hit. Released in the Bicentennial year, after Vietnam, Watergate, and attention-getting attempts on President Ford's life, Taxi Driver's intense portrait of a man and a society unhinged spoke resonantly to the mid-'70s audience -- too resonantly in the case of attempted Reagan assassin and Foster fan John W. Hinckley. Taxi Driver went on to win the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival, but it lost the Best Picture Oscar to the more comforting Rocky. Anchored by De Niro's disturbing embodiment of "God's lonely man," Taxi Driver remains a striking milestone of both Scorsese's career and 1970s Hollywood. ~ Lucia Bozzola, Rovi

"You don't make up for your sins in church; you do it in the streets; you do it at home. The rest is bulls--t, and you know it." Returning to the autobiographical milieu of his 1968 debut Who's That Knocking at My Door? for his third feature, Martin Scorsese examined the daily struggles of a wannabe hood to keep his morals straight on the streets of Little Italy. Driven equally by his wish to become a respectable gangster like his uncle (Cesare Danova) and his desire to live his life like St. Francis, Charlie (Harvey Keitel) takes on his energetically unhinged friend Johnny Boy (Robert De Niro) as his own personal penance, intervening to get Johnny Boy to pay off a debt to the local loan shark Michael (Richard Romanus). Despite his promises to his epileptic girlfriend Teresa (Amy Robinson) that they will move out of Little Italy once he strengthens his position in his uncle's world, Charlie's involvement with Johnny Boy further ensnares him in the neighborhood. When Johnny Boy decides to mouth off to Michael rather than pay him, Charlie, Johnny Boy, and Teresa try to flee Michael's murderous anger (and an assassin played by Scorsese), forcing Charlie to realize that the rules of the streets do not mesh with absolution. Whereas fellow "film school generation" director Francis Ford Coppola transformed the Hollywood gangster movie into metaphorical epics about the Mafia and capitalism in The Godfather (1972) and The Godfather Part II (1974), Scorsese revised the genre in the opposite direction, focusing on the gritty minutiae of daily life and drawing from personal memory. Combining documentary-style realism (even though most of the film was shot in L.A.); kinetic editing and camera movement; and expressionistic lighting, angles, and film speed, Scorsese presents an intimate picture of the trivial incidents and latent violence of Charlie's and Johnny Boy's world, naturalistically unfolding their experiences rather than simply explaining what motivates them. They lead a claustrophobic, petty existence that Scorsese and screenwriter Mardik Martin witnessed growing up in Little Italy, complete with a soundtrack of hit songs like "Be My Baby" and "Jumping Jack Flash" that had poured out of neighborhood radios. Mean Streets opened at the New York Film Festival to excellent notices and played strongly in New York but failed to duplicate that level of business elsewhere. Even so, Mean Streets established Scorsese and De Niro as formidable young talents and marked the beginning of a long-running and fertile collaboration that continued in such films as Taxi Driver (1976), Raging Bull (1980), The King of Comedy (1983), and Goodfellas (1990). Scorsese's exceptional grasp of the texture of day-to-day life, the rhythm and cadences of street talk, and cinema's visual and aural possibilities makes Mean Streets one of the pivotal films of the 1970s, as well as of Scorsese's career, and an influence on such future filmmakers as Spike Lee and Quentin Tarantino, among many others. ~ Lucia Bozzola, Rovi

Shot over a period of several years and shown under the alternate titles I Call First and J.R., Martin Scorsese's debut feature is an autobiographical look at the conflicted life of a young, Italian-American, Catholic man in early 1960s New York. J.R. (then-unknown Harvey Keitel) spends his days and nights hanging out with his buddies in Little Italy, going to the movies, goofing around, and looking to score with "broads." When he meets The Girl (Zina Bethune) on the Staten Island ferry, she rocks his world with a shared admiration for John Ford's The Searchers (1956). A blond WASP beauty, the girl is more sophisticated than J.R.'s parochial friends and shows him that there's more to life than the neighborhood. J.R. falls in love, yet he refuses to soil her by sleeping with her. The girl, however, reveals that she is not a virgin because of a date rape. Locked in his Catholic virgin-whore complex, J.R. is disgusted by the revelation, but, after a squalid evening with his friends, J.R. decides to do the righteous thing by forgiving and marrying her. The girl will have none of it, leaving J.R. to sort out his prejudices on his own. Originally conceived as part of a trilogy with what would become Mean Streets (1973), the black-and-white Who's That Knocking already has the acute grasp of daily life, fluid camera movements, and vivid editing of images to music (such as the slo-mo scuffle to the lilting "El Watusi") that would define Scorsese's later work. Despite a successful debut at the 1967 Chicago Film Festival, no distributor picked up the film until a soft porn distributor agreed to release it if Scorsese added a nude scene. By the time, Who's That Knocking was finally released in 1969, with J.R.'s sexy fantasy accompanied by The Doors's "The End," the loose counterculture mood had made the focus on sexual repression seem out-of-date. ~ Lucia Bozzola, Rovi

Stephen Frears' Hero is a contemporary re-working of a Frank Capra-styled fable about a two-bit criminal named Bernie (Dustin Hoffman) who saves several passengers from a plane crash and leaves the scene without being identified, leaving only a lost shoe for identification. One of the passengers happens to be news-reporter Gale (Geena Davis) who is intent on finding her savior, and offers a million dollars to the "hero" of the crashed flight. Bernie has since given his remaining shoe to a homeless man named John (Andy Garcia) who decides to cash in on the offer. A handsome, charming man, John wins the hearts of the entire city. Soon, Bernie realizes that he's been cheated out of a million dollars, and he begins an effort to get his proper recognition--and his money. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

In Hard to Hold, pop singer Rick Springfield is cast as an immensely successful recording artist named James Roberts. As a result of a fender-bender accident, Roberts meets and falls in love with child psychologist Diana Lawson (Janet Eilber), who is not the least bit impressed with James' wealth or fame. He spends the rest of the picture following Diana all over San Francisco, much to the discomfort of his lovelorn writing partner Nicky Nides (Patti Hanson). ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi