Director Report Card: Barry Sonnenfeld (1995)

4. Get Shorty

There was, for however brief a time, a period were John Travolta was a major movie star again. After the decade-defining success of “Pulp Fiction,” the former Tony Manero was a red hot name again. It was during this time that we got a string of films attempting to cash-in on Travolta's newly reborn star power. “Phenomenon,” “Michael,” “Broken Arrow,” and “Face/Off” managed to be box office successes based almost solely on Travolta's name. The Travolta vehicle that would follow directly after “Pulp Fiction” was “Get Shorty.” Barry Sonnenfeld would direct and add another hit to his resume. But how does “Get Shorty” play in 2021?

Chili Palmer is a successful loan shark but, after his old enemy Ray “Bones” ends up being his boss, Chili gets tired of the tough guy life style. He follows Leo, a guy who faked his death to pull off an insurance scam, to L.A. There, he encounters B-movie producer Harry Zim. Zim has his hands on a red hot script called “Mr. Lovejoy” and is attempting to get Oscar-nominated actor Martin Weir to star. Palmer decides to try out movie producing, which involves pitching a movie based on his own life. At the same time, he gets tangled up in a criminal plot motivated by a would-be gangster that Zim owes money to, as well as falling in love with Weir's ex-wife.

“Get Shorty” was released almost exactly a year after “Pulp Fiction,” so it seems unlikely that the film was made exclusively to capitalize on Quentin Tarantino's groundbreaking sophomore effort. Yet one can't help but think of the earlier film while watching it. And not just because of Travolta's starring role and gangland plot. “Get Shorty” is adapted from a novel by Elmore Leonard, an author famous for his twisting plots and colorful dialogue. The film's soundtrack is filled with funky R&B classics and jazzy needle drops. The comparisons are unavoidable... And disappointing. Because “Get Shorty” is working so hard to capture the sense of effortless cool that “Pulp Fiction” pulled off, that it often feels belabored and insincere. 

And you can't say that this was all a big coincidence either. Aside from Travolta's presence, the producers apparently offered the movie to Tarantino and tried to get Samuel L. Jackson for a supporting role. The most obvious way “Get Shorty” emulates “Fiction,” is that this is a movie full of people who watch movies. Chili Palmer is a film fanatic. In the first scene, he references James Cagney. He catches a revival screening of “Touch of Evil” and can quote it from memory. Later on, he's annoyed that someone can't tell the difference between “Rio Bravo” and “El Dorado.” Moreover, Chili is so enamored of film that he desires to make his own life into a movie. His attitude and worldview is informed by cinema, which makes “Get Shorty” something of a meta movie that eventually folds in on itself.

Yet, while the film references and conversations in Tarantino's movies come from a place of genuine passion and love, “Get Shorty” always feels phony. It never really comments on the relationship between its characters and the movies. Everyone just wants to be in show business because... Everyone wants to be in show business. Moreover, the fake movies-within-the-movie never sound real. We never learn the actual plot or any real details about “Mr. Lovejoy.” The B-movie productions Zim produces, with names like “Slime Creatures” or “The Freaks,” all sound tossed-off.  Additionally, Chili's ability to convince everyone that his life story would make a great movie strains believability. 

As half-assed as the Hollywood plot of “Get Shorty” is, it proves a lot more compelling than the crime movie scenario. As is common in Leonard's books, and the films inspired by them, the narrative winds through several competing subplots and an extended cast of characters. If you're not paying close attention, it's easy to get lost. The guy who ran off with the insurance money, the reason Chili ends up in Hollywood, never returns to the story. A reoccuring plot point about an airport locker full of cash, or Ray “Bones'” rivalry with Chili, come and go when it suits the narrative. Yet few of these plot points actually add to the movie, merely complicating it further. Maybe this kind of plotting is more compelling in Leonard's book.

“Get Shorty's” overbearing commitment to seeming cool, and its ultimate failure to achieve that goal, is directly rooted to its star. Like most of his star vehicles that would follow in the nineties, the film completely misunderstands what is appealing about John Travolta. Travolta's best roles aren't cool guys. They are dorks who think they are cool. Vincent Vega was a fast talker but ultimately an unlucky drug addict. Tony Manero was trapped in a sexist, racist subculture and slowly becoming aware of that. Danny Zuko was a pining sad-boy in greaser drag. If played as a film nerd grossly overestimating his own slickness, Chili Palmer might've been a compelling character. Instead, the movie treats Palmer as a charming, intimidating bad-ass who is always one step ahead of his rivals. It's a character type that only leads to mugging on Travolta's behalf.

Early on, Harry Zim tells Chili Palmer that any movie worth its weight has a female lead and a corresponding love story. A line of dialogue about how a script must contain a romantic subplot, no matter how perfunctory, might have been a satirical commentary on Hollywood and “Get Shorty” itself, if this movie was as smart as it pretends to be. Instead, the romantic subplot in “Get Shorty” is simply lifeless and unnecessary. Rene Russo plays Karen, a woman romantically linked to three of the movie's male characters, as a character with a lot of attitude. Yet she never truly comes to life, save for a mild scene where she talks about her career in B-movies. She has no romantic chemistry with Travolta and Russo is reduced to a damsel-in-distress by the end. If all of this was intentional, it's a choice executed with no grace or intent at all.

Still, the A-list cast “Get Shorty” attracted does lead to some entertaining moments. Gene Hackman was reluctant to take the role of Harry Zim, saying he doesn't do comedies. (Which is fine, as “Get Shorty” is never funny.) Despite the weak material, Hackman is never anything less than entertaining. As a slimy Hollywood producer who says whatever people want to hear, Hackman clearly is having a ball. It is interesting to see such a respected actor in the role of a greasy shyster. If Hackman is cast against type, Dennis Farina is cast exactly to type as Ray "Bones," a blustering mafioso type that bludgeons and berates his way through the story. Watching Farina do his thing, which he's good at is, certainly has value too.

Delroy Lindo appears as Bo Catlett, the primary antagonist. Catlett's motivations for getting into the film business are left especially vague, though his insistence that screenwriting is easy did amuse me. Lindo, an actor of considerable range, doesn't get to stretch his muscles too much in the role of a generic bad guy. Before he became Tony Soprano, James Gandolfini appears here as a part-time stuntman and criminal enforcer. Gandolfini adopts a questionable southern accent and gets an unconvincing redemptive story arc. Despite that, he still has a particular charm that is hard to deny. Bette Middler also shows up uncredited, for one of the movie's most disposable subplots. Though she is at least entertaining in the handful of scenes she has.

Ostensibly a comedy, “Get Shorty” is far too self-satisfied in its slickness to ever actually create laughs. Yet there is one moment, in this entire 105 minute long film, that manages to be both funny, fascinating, and insightful about Hollywood. Chili goes to Martin Weir's home to pitch him on “Mr. Lovejoy” but, instead, convinces him to star in his own movie. Weir, played by a low-key Danny DeVito, is depicted as an egotistical A-lister that fills his mansions with portraits of himself. He bounces off Palmer, who tries to teach him how to play a convincing loan shark. The actor cycles through several facial expressions before it's finally decided he finds the right one. It's such a succinct, amusing take-down of self-involved actorly types. In this one scene, “Get Shorty” says more about the film industry than it does over the rest of its run time. 

Even if “Get Shorty” is nowhere near as cool as it thinks it is, Barry Sonnenfeld at least ensures that the movie looks cool. The shot most reminiscent of the Tarantino-style movies that obviously inspired “Get Shorty” occurs late on. It's a tracking shot on a pair of feet as they navigate through the airport. There's a number of his trademark tracking shots throughout, as characters walk from location to location. A handful of fight scenes are shot in cramped, frantic fashions that are convincing. Sonnenfeld also includes a few slow pans-out from high angles, which also look pretty nice. The editing is sharp and the film is stylishly assembled. It doesn't have the cartoonish energy of the “Addams Family” films but it still looks pretty slick.

Seen through modern eyes, “Get Shorty” seems almost embarrassingly of its time. It's a slick looking flick that isn't really about much of any, without really addressing its themes or ideas in any meaningful way. Yet the public's bizarre appetite for Cool Guy John Travolta at the time was so intense, “Get Shorty” was still a box office success. It stayed atop the box office for three weeks and grossed over 100 million dollars. If nothing else, this was the kind of hit Sonnenfeld's career needed after the disappointing grosses of his last two movies. Yet it also says a lot that “Get Shorty” is rarely discussed these days, even in light of a late sequel and television adaptation. [Grade: C]