Equinox

Matthew Modine plays both twins, born out of wedlock to a ballet dancer and a wealthy, married European count. Adopted by Pete (M. Emmet Walsh), a car mechanic, Henry grows up shy, gentle, and retiring. Lately, however, he has been feeling restless and randy, the latter quality being noticed by his equally shy sometime girlfriend, Beverly (Lara Flynn Boyle). Henry is frightened by his new feelings, which lead him into an affair with a hooker (Marisa Tomei) living in his apartment building, and to her death after Henry impulsively beats up her pimp (Dirk Blocker). Henry's twin, Freddy Ace, after a tough childhood in an orphanage, has become an enforcer for a crazy gangster, Mr. Paris (Fred Ward). However, he has grown increasingly sickened by his profession, telling his wife (Lori Singer) he'd like nothing more than a million bucks and a full tank of gas to get away from it all. As it happens, an inheritance of more than a million dollars is referred to in a letter discovered by a morgue worker and aspiring writer (Tyra Ferrell) among the possessions of a dead bag lady--the twins' mother, who never recovered from the abandonment by her lover. The money is in a trust fund left by the count to be split by the twins, but can be accessed only through the code word "equinox." The twins finally confront each other at a restaurant, where Freddy has gone to smooth things over with the owner, who had been threatened by another enforcer whom Freddy has murdered on Paris' orders. Henry is there with a friend, Beverly's brother (Kevin J. O'Connor), who has come with a gun to protect the owner's daughter (Angel Aviles) from further menace. Instead, the daughter shoots and kills Freddy, who is distracted by glimpsing Henry. Fearful that what he has witnessed has placed his own life in danger, Henry steals money and a car from Pete's shop and flees. He asks Beverly to come along, but she refuses, even as she realizes that she may be missing the most important opportunity of her life. Henry is left standing on a ledge overlooking the Grand Canyon, perplexed about his past and wondering what the future holds.

Perplexity is not an inappropriate reaction to Alan Rudolph's films in general. But the difference with Rudolph is that he perplexes his audience because he himself is perplexed. His films are usually investigations that lead nowhere. But even with nowehere as a destination, it can be truly said that the pleasure is in the getting there. EQUINOX in particular is built around climaxes that never occur--the writer never completing her search and helping the twins gain their legacy, the twins never meeting each other, Henry and Beverly never committing to each other, Henry's friend never winning the woman of his dreams. Pete never even gets around to selling his shop and heading for Florida, which he talks about throughout the film. All of these missed climaxes, in turn, stem from a woman, the twins' mother, loving not wisely but too well, echoed in the present by the hooker's attachment to her pimp which leads to her death. In other words, nobody wins at the game of life.

Both men's tentative decisions to escape their dreary fates and take their lives into their own hands leads to disaster not only for themselves but for everyone around them. Rather than a grim fatalism, however, Rudolph's films are informed more by a Zen-like acceptance. They describe how we live with a concomitant challenge to change. His characters have dreams that are never pursued; they say they're going to do things they never do; they do things they never dreamed they would. And when they do the right things, it's usually by accident, as when Freddy kills his fellow thug not to save the restaurant owner and his daughter from torment, but simply because he hates the guy and his boss told him to do it. As a fitting backdrop, Rudolph's films take place in a stylized netherworld in which there is almost always more going on than meets either the mind or the eye. Rudolph's world is at once down, dirty, and cruel, yet oddly spiritual, while coursing with offhanded sensuality. Is it anti-Disneyland or just Los Angeles moved up to Seattle? All that can finally be said with certainty about Alan Rudolph is that as filmmakers go, he's one of a kind, and, if we're lucky, we'll never quite define just what type he is. (Adult situations, violence, nudity.) leave a comment