Tough Guys Don't Dance

1987 "A love story haunted by murder."
4.9| 1h49m| NA| en| More Info
Released: 18 September 1987 Released
Producted By: American Zoetrope
Country: United States of America
Budget: 0
Revenue: 0
Official Website:
Info

Tim Madden awakens one morning to discover a fresh tattoo on his arm, his car covered in blood, his girlfriend in bed with the town sheriff, and a woman's severed head in his weed stash. Sensing a setup and in desperate need to clear his name, he begins an investigation, with the help of his dying father, that soon begins to expose a web of corruption in the small coastal community of Provincetown.

Genre

Horror, Comedy, Crime

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Director

Norman Mailer

Production Companies

American Zoetrope

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Tough Guys Don't Dance Audience Reviews

Karry Best movie of this year hands down!
SnoReptilePlenty Memorable, crazy movie
Afouotos Although it has its amusing moments, in eneral the plot does not convince.
Kaelan Mccaffrey Like the great film, it's made with a great deal of visible affection both in front of and behind the camera.
cultfilmfreaksdotcom Ryan O'Neal's infamous "Oh Man Oh God" moment, while awful and embarrassing, taken on its own accord.. linked all over the Internet and embedded below this review... within context of an equally bizarre vehicle, just sort of comes and goes, coinciding with a cheesy spinning camera-glide in this Neo Noir thriller with little thrills, tons of intentionally pulpy dialogue that Norman Mailer, who directed based on his novel turned screenplay, purposely borrows from the likes of Raymond Chandler and Mickey Spillaine… Although there weren't many cocaine addicts written about back in those dime novel days; at least not for an aimless anti-hero to be involved with without a second thought. Enter O'Neal's low-rent ex-con writer, Tim Madden, literally counting the days with shaving cream on a mirror of his missing wife's beachfront mansion...We begin as Tim finds his dad sitting reposeful in the living room, and Lawrence Tierney, a man who reigned genuine terror in the true crime flicks of yesteryear (and would growl in RESERVOIR DOGS a few years later), actually has a reason to be bald-headed: His surprisingly subdued, world-weary Dougy Madden is suffering from the after-effects of chemotherapy. The conversations with his son, including banal dialogue seeming like ad libs from a macho actor's workshop (TIERNEY: "Your mother was delicate, she spoiled you a lot" O'NEAL: "Well I did my three years in the slammer standing up, no one made me a punk" TIERNEY "Good for you... I didn't want to ask") is how, instead of the usual narration, we're provided exposition through this steamy, uneven tale centering on O'Neal trying to figure out how the severed skull of a woman got buried in the woods, and why he knows the exact location. The sporadic O'Neal/Tierney wordplay is performed good yet awkwardly leads to each flashback sequence: a keyword is repeated at the end of the present time and the start of the backstory... just in case you missed it. A sort of Film Noir for Dummies. And Mailer throws in a score of naked bodies and taboo subjects that end up serving as wallpaper.The second-billed and not very important "one that got away" ingénue Isabella Rossellini aside, if any particular dame steals the picture it's femme fatalle Patty Lareine. Actress Debra Sandlund (now Debra Stipe) chews scenery without chomping too loud, knowing just how to play kitsch unlike O'Neal in his "Oh God" moment or Wings Hauser, who goes his usual overboard after being subtle for most of the film.The real problem with TOUGH GUYS is the direction by Norman Mailer, but that's not exactly true… For DANCE doesn't seem like there's any real direction at all. As if the actors are performing in a vacuum; their characters exist on a treadmill course throughout the gorgeous New England beach locale. And while O'Neal has lived to regret his performance, it's not that god-awful, and he's a comfortable enough shoe to trudge along the muddled plot line: For when our man vanishes for twenty long minutes, taken over by tormented simpleton John Bedford Lloyd as… someone's crazy lover… what was once aimed downhill reaches rock bottom, with vengeance.
vandino1 Norman Mailer used to mean something, literary-wise. He was a Big Noise back in the fifties and sixties trying to be the heir apparent to his hero Hemingway, but since Mailer was really just a small-statured city boy with no interest in the outdoors he resorted to games of thumb-wrestling and head butting men (and assaulting women) instead of hunting and traveling. Like this movie, Mailer is a juvenile, woman-hating, gay-hating, faux-tough guy obviously obsessed with his fragile masculinity. Decades of hype and bad writing and activities (including the notorious Abbott disaster) have reduced his noisy reputation to virtual silence. He has become as pathetic as this movie, based on another one of his terrible novels. Granted this film is more coherent than his previous directorial attempts way-back-when (i.e. 'Wild 90,' 'Maidstone') there is still no reason to give it any more credibility considering its supreme awfulness. Of course, there IS the 'Showgirls'-like aroma of a risible good time to be had for those inclined to cheer on the execrable disasters of filmmakers who thought they were making something worthwhile and were so very wrong. For other viewers this is a stupefying experience mirrored by the consistently haggard look of Ryan O'Neal throughout. Like Spike Lee, Mailer MUST include his obsessions on screen. Ala Spike, consider this a 'Norman Mailer Joint.' That means you will hear men grousing to other men about "being men" and "not being fags" and how spiteful and cruel all women are, and it will be spoken in purplish film-noir-meets-gym-locker-room dialogue (my favorite: "Don't tickle my stick.") There will be countless scenes of women degrading themselves for no reason or men complaining/crying because those ruthless harpies have emasculated them. Since it's directed by a rank amateur, naturally the actors look either lost or unhinged. In short, this film, like its author, is an embarrassment.
triresia This is one of my favorite movies. A strange mixture of seemingly unintentional humor , macabre plot twists, and the charm of off-season Provincetown. I wouldn't call it a drama. HILARIOUS. Patty L. is a real overdone nostril flaring trailer park siren. Ryan O'Neil seems to play the straight man to everyone else. I don't know how he maintained such a bland facade - I guess that's his style. He mostly stood around looking haggard, and so managed to provide something like a foil for all the circus freaks. At one point in the beginning of the film during a scene with his hard drinking crustacean of a father (L. T. is great), I thought I saw something like a suppressed smile cross the faces of both actors - a great moment that I'm sure was totally unintentional. Who wouldn't crack under the weight of all the corny dialoge? Contains the funniest dad and son out "fishing" in the rowboat at night scene ever filmed. I can still hear the foghorns. Despite all the corniness, its all somehow...so...mesmerizing....
akhilles84 This is a hard film to stomach.It has a lot of intense,extreme scenes of sex,violence and obscurity.Ryan O'Neal could have done better.Wings Hauser outshines all in his role of sadistic,sex crazy chauvinist police officer.Who at the end turns insane.And thats what he isnt alone in.There are even more obscure characters here,like southern reverend Big Stoop and his "friendly" ex-wife Patty.They create a spiral of sex and intrigues which ends in suicide of the first and death of the other.All in all,a movie every sado-masochist would love to own.For normal people-a torturingly mad 2 hour experience.