Meet Me at Vallenari’s

Of the three sensational films Michelle Pfeiffer’s made in 1988, Robert Towne’s California crime drama Tequila Sunrise (1988) has really grown on me. The other two, Married to the Mob and Dangerous Liaisons, felt like instant classics for me., but Tequila Sunrise took a little time to work it’s slow charms on me—not too long, mind you, and when it clicked, it all clicked for me. Don’t get me wrong, I always loved it, but each successive viewing unveils previously unseen layers that add impressive depth to the film.

I watched it again recently for my article on Michelle Pfeiffer’s 1980s filmography in Cinema of the ‘80s magazine, then again the other night just for fun. This time I marveled at the composition and execution of some truly gorgeous shot from multiple-Academy Award winning cinematographer Conrad Hall. He and writer-director Towne make excellent use of the Manhattan Beach setting. In one beautiful scene, two characters are framed against the backdrop of a stunning, tequila sunrise sky.

I’ll always love the film’s triangle of stars—Michelle Pfeiffer, Mel Gibson, and Kurt Russell—and how magnificently they play off each other. Just like the three, distinct ingredients of the film’s titular cocktail, the three leads also provide their own unique flavors, while acting in perfect harmony together. Towne gives his stars ample opportunity to shine, with some great dialogue and scenes that aren’t afraid to luxuriate in the actors’ easy chemistry. Russell and Gibson are highly believable as old friends on opposite sides of the law, while Pfeiffer is extraordinary as the conflicted love interest of both men, who quickly finds herself at the center of a dangerous cat and mouse game. She has authentic chemistry with both of her costars.

Russell is Los Angeles County Detective Nick Frescia, whose old friend Dale “Mac” McKussic is a drug dealer trying to go straight with a legitimate business. Outside influences, like Mexican drug kingpin and close friend Carlos (Raul Julia) make it difficult for Mac to leave his old life behind. Carlotemps Max with the classic film trope of “one last job” and then Mac will be home free. Then there’s Pfeiffer as restaurateur Jo Ann Vallenari, for whom Mac harbors a not-so-secret crush that leads him to eat at her upscale Italian restaurant several times a week. The rigatoni quattro formaggi is to die for, but so is Jo Ann.

Just like Jonathan Demme did in Married to the Mob that year, Towne frames Michelle’s flawless face in ways that somehow manage to enhance her already-otherworldly beauty. Shot after shot, Michelle’s radiant visage draws our undivided attention. Jo Ann’s internal conflict manifests in Michelle’s expressive eyes. Few actors can touch Michelle’s talent for baring the souls of her characters through those mesmerizing eyes.

Gibson turns in an understated and powerful performance, subtle but still packed with his trademark intensity. Russell looks like he’s having a blast playing such a cocky and charming character. Julia is simply magnificent, but then again, wasn’t he always? He’s the very definition of a scene stealer here, yet it all works beautifully in service of the film. His character’s eccentricities are meant to keep everyone off balance, including the audience.

From conception to execution, Tequila Sunrise is a masterful film. Every time I watch Towne’s underrated neo-noir, I’m left with an even deeper appreciation for its artistry. It also has a habit of always making me want to mix up its delicious namesake cocktail, while tucking into a fresh- plate of Vallenari’s rigatoni quattro formaggi—preferably served by Jo Ann Vallenari herself.