Article: Radio Ga Ga - Pump Up The Volume

Pump Up the Volume is Talk Radio (1988) for teenagers. Although a far more hopeful entity than Oliver Stone’s claustrophobic slice of media pessimism, the film orbits around similar themes. It touches on free speech and the intimate power of radio as a medium. However, despite holding a sizable amount of darkness, Pump Up the Volume is a cuter view on similar ideas highlighted in Talk Radio. Christian Slater plays Mark, a sullen loner who finds solace in performing outrageously on his short-wave radio show. Mark uses his radio to communicate with his friends back east after he and his parents move from New York to a quiet suburb in Phoenix, Arizona. However, his persona of ‘Hard Harry’ becomes a solitary voice that delivers truth bombs to isolated and lonely teenagers. A tragic accident occurs after Mark makes some unwittingly flippant comments, and soon the town's adults look to condemn and stifle the voice that is stirring up high school rebellion.

Director Allan Moyle adds a touch of futurism to Pump Up the Volume, which helps it become a companion piece with Talk Radio. Both movies draw attention to the idea of the virility of radio, along with its intimacy. During the opening credits, radio recordings of ‘Hard Harry’ are passed from pupil to pupil via tape recording. Late in the film, background graffiti broadly states, “The Truth is a virus”. But while there’s foreshadowing on the future of media circulation, the sensibilities of its director, and possibly the coming-of-age narrative, give Pump Up the Volume a sweeter taste in comparison to the bitter pill of Talk Radio. Amusingly, both films feature Ellen Green as a quiet voice of reason, who wishes to appeal to the empathy of the characters. Oliver Stone’s movie senses the growing sense of haplessness and frustration, helped by the encroaching capitalist system. Pump up the Volume, with its pirated tapes, rebellious rock music, and sometimes youthful idealism, walks a different path for the adolescent listeners of Hard Harry. One that suggests a sense of belonging. Mark’s Harry persona holds empathy that Talk Radio’s Barry no longer has. If he ever had time for it.

Despite the film having a strand about popularity, Pump Up the Volume was not popular itself. The film suffered a similar fate to Moyle’s Empire Records (1995) in that while it seemingly had all the ingredients to be a mainstream classic, it found itself roundly ignored by audiences upon release. It brought in a measly $11 million during its theatrical run.  Pump Up the Volume’s mainstream failure is another unfortunate chapter in the cinematic career of Moyles, who previously spent 10 years in self-imposed exile due to having a dreadful time on his New York set, punk-enthused, teenage lesbian story, Times Square (1980). For some reason, whenever Moyle wanted to tell stories about teenage lives, he was hampered by unseen cinematic overlords. It is a strange bug within Moyles' features. In 1980, more people were interested in The Blue Lagoon than Times Square, most likely for sleazy reasons. In 1995, Empire Records was overshadowed by Clueless and Kids. In 1990, Pump Up the Volume went against Whit Stillman’s Oscar-nominated Metropolitan and Reginald Hudlin’s House Party. Metropolitan gained a Criterion release in 2006 (DVD) and 2018 (Blu-Ray). House Party was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" in 2022. Pump up the Volume, alas, garners no such plaudits.

When watching the film, it’s surprising that there isn’t more popularity behind it. Pump Up the Volume seemed primed for the mainstage. It appeared in the middle of what some may consider MTV's golden age. Coming out two years after Slater’s other pitch-black teen flick, Heathers (1988), PUTV’s teenage rebellion arrives just in time before the '90s went into alienation overdrive.  Its commentary on teenage angst sets the tone for the decade and feels so bleeding edge that it feels like the era takes a few years to catch up.  Smudges of John Hughes-like residue cling to the sides of the film. The sentimentality and acute teenage awkwardness are the key signatures.

However, the blending of growing pains, teenage kicks and sincerity delivers a fresh sense of optimism, which makes PUTV an interesting contrast to Talk Radio, which actively swims in its jadedness. Despite his loudmouth persona, what makes Mark/Harry interesting is that he knows he doesn’t have all the answers. His desire to bring a sense of community towards the very listeners he struggles to connect with in real life is compelling. The film's inciting incident, in which a suicidal teen calls Mark for help, is the film's best example.  Christian Slater considers his role in Pump Up the Volume his favourite, and it’s not hard to see why. When viewed next to his breakthrough role as JD in Heathers, Slater has much more to do here. He balances an immature yet charismatic audio persona with his more inward personality. At school, he is the proto-Milhouse, struggling to maintain eye contact with his love interest, Nora, spiritedly played by Samantha Mathis in her film debut. At night, Mark becomes a masturbating John Peel, charming his teenage audience with Alt-rock and hard truths. Slater does well here. The actor who was struggling with alcohol problems around the same time seems to have taken the weight of that battle and focused that energy into the role.  If the actor was channelling Jack Nicholson as the infamous JD in Heathers, then Hard Harry was summoning the burgeoning Howard Stern, along with a touch of the personal. Harry also becomes a prototype for our podcasting present, where the internet has taken over shortwave radio, and the regulated barriers of the airwaves are diminished even more. Ultimately, however, Harry is a less aggressive, more juvenile version of the darker, more Rebellious teenage psychopath. However, the performance in PUTV is wider in expression. There’s more to hang on to, and the character sees more in his peers than the nihilistic JD.

There’s a constant feeling that Pump Up the Volume is on the cusp of something. Throughout the film, Mark’s radio rants target the parents of his peers who are constantly disconnected from their kin. The raves at a society caving into conformity and drudgery slowly become something of substance. An early outburst feels telling, if only because it’s arriving earlier than scheduled:

“I don’t find it cheerful to be living in a totally exhausted decade with nothing to look forward to and nothing to look up to”

Mark may be aiming for the excess-fueled era of the 80s. However, many of the films which made their mark in the middle and end of the 90s had much to say about the malaise of dispassionate suburban ennui. The middle of the decade was full of portrayals of disaffected youth struggling to find their place in the world. At times, Pump Up the Volume feels like it’s crawling, so the likes of Ben Stiller, Kevin Smith and Richard Linklater could walk. This is probably not the case. Yet a persona like Hard Harry, despite his immaturity, slots in well with the pop culture parables of Randal from Clerks or next to the yammering of a beardy Ethan Hawke in some independent feature. The film doesn’t seem to be suggesting, but more yelling about the upcoming cultural anxiety.  In one exchange, Mark’s dad gives a telling statement: “You don’t rock the boat. Especially if you’re sitting in it.” Elsewhere, we’re given shots of Mark, previously a resident of the unpredictable city of New York, wandering down streets of indistinguishable suburban housing. The film’s message seems clear. If only the stars had aligned with the mainstream advent of grunge three years later.

A core strength of Pump Up the Volume resides in its idea that the youth are being denied their voice. The film’s distribution of illicit material resonates strongly in Jason Bailey’s piece about the film, predicting a media untethered by regulated gatekeeping. These kids are finding a way to be heard. While their parents and teacher scratch their heads, all gaining collective amnesia at the fact that Mark’s brash and juvenile discourse is the exact sort of behaviour kids of that age gravitate to. Bailey is more dismissive of the film’s self-importance. It’s an understandable criticism. Teenage films like this are full of kids who are heavily burdened with dissatisfaction so huge that they cannot look past their noses. However, moments such as the inciting suicidal incident or the freak out from popular student Paige raging against oblivious adults at a parental meeting still resonate, due to their sincerity.

The film’s prophetic ending highlights how these teens, nay, all of us, will soon be heard. In the film's final moments, Mark loudly advises his fan base to “talk hard” and be heard. The climax has dozens of teens start their own talk radio stations, unburdened by parental control or adult regulation. It’s quaint to consider this now that everyone broadcasts themselves. Pump up the Volume provides a sense of optimism with the idea that everyone having a voice may point toward some harmony cutting through the discourse. Be it podcasts, YouTube, or TikTok, our multimedia platforms have allowed many to have the means to “talk hard”. Of course, what’s happened can feel more like a jaded amalgamated victory for Oliver Stone’s Talk Radio. Despite Pump Up the Volume's more optimistic tone, once everyone had the means to do their own broadcasts in real life, they turned their media on themselves and now get by on a wild mix of fear, consumerism and narcissism. Scarily, Pump Up the Volume could have been talking about this decade in which its youth are staring into the abyss. Living in a totally exhausted decade with little to look forward to and nothing to look up to. However, as a now jaded parent, my words should be taken with a pinch of salt. As an amusing aside, however, in the 1990s, Hard Harry wanted his listeners to talk hard. Now in the year 2025, the internet content subscription service OnlyFans holds over 3 million creators and 220 million subscribers, all getting “hard” in a different way. But perhaps Mark would be sleeping well knowing that they are all happily indulging in his favourite pastime.

Despite its struggles with music rights in the past, Pump Up the Volume can be found on various streaming platforms.

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Article: Making Promisies - Looking Back at The Pledge

While film Twitter indulged itself in yet another madding round of Marvel vs Scorsese discourse, I needed something to watch. I found myself settling on Sean Penn’s The Pledge. A detective thriller based on Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s 1958 novella of the same name.

In reading reviews of the film, I found opinions of some of my usual go-to writers veered wildly. Roger Ebert raved about the film. Reviewing it twice and placing it on his list of great movies. Mary Ann Johnston however despised the film. Disliking its ugliness and absurd climax. I had The Pledge on my watch list for the longest time. Put off by Penn’s frustrating 2007 feature Into the Wild. A film I’ve never returned to due to the lead character’s stubbornness. Something that pairs nicely with this film.  

On the Eve of his retirement, Detective Jerry Black (Jack Nicholson) finds himself caught up in a child murder case. Jerry makes a solemn promise to the victim’s mother (Patricia Clarkson) that he intends to find the killer. However, soon after the promise is made, the police apprehend an intellectually disabled native American (Benicio Del Toro) and consider the case closed after a botched detainment. Jerry isn’t so sure. After leaving the force, he decides to embark on his private investigation of the case, based on little more than his promise and a hunch. Very soon Jerry is triangulating the area of the crime with other cold cases. He’s buying gas stations which he mans, as he believes the killer may frequent there. Jerry also becomes acquainted with a single mother (Robin Wright) whose child would be the perfect next victim for the killer. Quickly they move in with Jerry and a mutual affection grows between the three. But it becomes hard to tell if he’s using the girl as bait. And what of the friendly god-fearing bachelor who befriends the girl? What is his motivation for all this?

The Pledge is very much a Sean Penn film. It is less a film of excess as it is a film of a muchness. At times the film wants you to see that it’s directed. With a capital, D. Be its indulgence in a multitude of visual tics to having known actors swinging for the cages despite only being in one scene. It’s a film with personality. And that personality is that of Sean Penn. He may not appear in any shot of the film, but each frame feels very much like the man making it. Much like the performances of Penn in his pomp, The Pledge wants you to know of its importance.

That’s not a bad thing. Despite a sense of indulgence, The Pledge is an absorbing quasi-procedural. One that lingers on like a bad stain. Perhaps this is because Penn has chosen a story created to purposely frustrate. Sneering in the face of the kind of exceptionalism that is often found in such crime dramas. Jerry is dogmatic in his obsession, and usually, we find this to be a good trait in our cop protagonists.  But much like the novella, the film is based on, the film undermines much of what we expect in detective fiction. That brilliant “cop logic” found so often within crime thrillers is greatly flawed. Obsession can be defeated. Often by chance.

The Pledge almost feels like a precursor to Bong Joon-Ho’s Memories of Murder (2003) and David Fincher’s Zodiac (2007). A crime thriller that debates that maybe such crimes aren’t sufficiently solved by a certain logic. That the puzzle may not fit together despite holding the right number of pieces. Investors of the film got nervous after another film they distributed (Battlefield Earth) sank like a stone at the box office. Because of this Penn was rushed to complete the film. Tom Noonan claims that there were still scenes featuring himself which fully rounded his character. And yet allows Penn to indulge in distracting edits and insert shots. But it also helps show up the flawed interior of its main character. Jerry’s intention to catch the killer is absurd. His reasoning is faulty. Yet it’s easy to be charmed into his search for justice. It’s often why such movies are watched.  

And there is a strong wish for deliverance here. The crime is brutal. Its grimness is on full display. The investigation into the murder is shambolic. Much like Memories of Murder, the chaos and contamination are deeply frustrating.  Nicholson’s subdued yet dominating performance as Jerry is a winning one. A man sees this one last job as a chance to preserve his sense of manhood and relevance. But the film also lulls and distracts. Disarming both Jerry and the audience. Spending ample time wrapped up in tiny-town America in such a way that it helps champion the madness of Jerry’s obsession.

It's a cheat to say that The Pledge is about mood over logic. Such a statement screams cop-out. Yet Penn’s film plays with the irrationality of it all. Mary Ann Johnson considered the film thoughtless. I feel the film knows what it’s doing. Consider the star-studded cast. Big players give gravitas to one-scene roles. Pushing past the craziness of it all. Micky Rourke steals a scene as a distraught father. This is one of his best performances. He’s barely on screen for 2 minutes. Helen Mirren appears as some sort of shrink at one point. It’s never fully explained who she is and why Jerry goes to see her. Yet the casting of such a commanding actor forcibly glosses over the fact. It’s easy to go with it. The same can be said for a small, despicable scene in which Jerry speaks to a local deputy (Costas Mandylor) about evidence over an assumed closed case. Mandylor is so brash and slimy that it’s easy to ignore the surprising judgement call he makes.

It doesn’t all work. Benicio Del Toro would probably not be given such a role as a mentally challenged Native American. It’s a role in which he puts his whole self into. But also reveals why Penn’s performance in I Am Sam (2001) is also so cringe-worthy. The additional bigoty that takes place within Del Toro's interrogation scene doesn’t help matters. Now 20 years on, there would probably be at least an actual Native American in such a role. Not that it would help the discomfort of the scene. And yet, it’s not as if we haven’t seen such ugliness in other crime thrillers. Again, this seemingly fuels aspects of exceptionalism and masculinity within the main protagonist. Playing on the idea that Jerry knows best. And that tragic circumstances would not have occurred if he was still allowed to lead.

But is that wholly true? Moments of The Pledge suggest that Jerry is already somewhat checked out. Lost to his promise to avenge a tragic case. From incredible deduction skills to possibly using those who are closest to him as bait. What makes The Pledge fascinating is how Penn draws out the despair. Playing down Nicholson’s usual charisma to give a grim poker face which still tells us too much. This is a man who should fold his hands. The film decides against the easy route of gun fights and car chases. Rooting with this broken man’s blinded obsession and what he may do. With things being pushed to the brink. Of course, this makes the film's final moments even more haunting. The Pledge finishes on a note that gives no comfort or answers. Just the grim hand of chance at play. It’s a disorientating finish. One that as stated previously is rightly absurd. But it’s the right finish for this movie. Because life is absurd. And we perhaps should not make such bold promises when fate decides all.

The Pledge is currently on Netflix at the time of writing.

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