jovana-13676
The film looks like a fashion editorial shot by Francesco Scavullo or Guy Bourdin. That's great. But since this is a movie, one expects the leading man to be more than a two dimensional mannequin, which only happens for a second in the balcony scene - you will know when you see it. The character is flat 99% of his screen time which makes his romance with a mature and passionate woman completely unbelievable. You wonder what she sees in him and if he's capable of seeing anything in her. However, the film captures the pre-AIDS era, its aesthetics and lifestyle that we sorely miss.
classicsoncall
With just a little bit of thought, just how hard was it to figure out who the murderer was in this one? Given the characters we're introduced to in the story, the only logical choice was the Rheiman dude himself. Having the blond kid do it was just a diversion, he didn't seem necessary even as an ancillary character.Oh well. Since the story is called "American Gigolo", it comes a bit out of left field when the picture turns into a murder mystery. But even then, it didn't seem like much of a thriller. Planting the stolen jewels in Julian's (Richard Gere) car didn't move the story forward in my estimation, and the way Detective Sunday (Hector Elizondo) blew off Leon's (Bill Duke) death with a circumspect eye witness was simply too incredulous for this viewer to accept.So what's left? Well I guess that would be the ending when Michelle (Lauren Hutton) shows up at the jail and offers to lie to provide Julian with his alibi in the Rheiman murder. An admirable thing to do in one respect, but I'd want to see the trial in the sequel to see how this all turns out. The divorce was bound to be messy.
Desertman84
A slick Los Angeles call boy finds love and redemption in Paul Schrader's ultra-stylish drama entitled American Gigolo.It stars Richard Gere and Lauren Hutton together with Hector Elizondo,Nina Van Pallandt and Bill Duke.Julian Kaye is a male escort in Los Angeles whose job supports his expensive taste in cars, stereophonic equipment, cocaine and clothes. He is, at times, blatantly narcissistic and superficial; however, he claims to take some pleasure in his work from being able to sexually satisfy women.When on an assignment for his primary procuress, Anne, he meets Michelle Stratton, the unhappy wife of a local politician, who becomes interested in him. Julian's other pimp, Leon, sends him to the house of a financier, Mr. Rheiman, who asks Julian to physically abuse and have sex with his wife while he watches them.As Julian begins to get to know Michelle, he learns that the financier's wife, Mrs. Rheiman, was murdered. Los Angeles Police Department Detective Sunday investigates Julian as a primary suspect. Though he was with a client, Lisa Williams, on the night of the murder, the client refuses to give Julian an alibi in order to protect her and her husband's reputations.As Julian's relationship with Michelle deepens, suspicion of the murder mounts against him. He soon realizes that he is being framed and grows increasingly desperate. His mounting anguish is visually represented by a degeneration in style as his clothes become rumpled, he goes unshaven, and he even rents a cheap commuter car after his Mercedes SL has been tampered with.Julian finally confronts Leon, who confesses that one of the other, younger gigolos who works for him had killed the wealthy man's wife, and Leon had conceived the plan to frame Julian. After an argument, Julian accidentally pushes Leon over the apartment balcony and he falls to his death.With no one to help him, Julian ends up in jail, awaiting trial for the murder. However, when all seems lost, Michelle risks her reputation and that of her husband to provide Julian with the alibi that can save him from prison.Stylish but emotionally hollow, Paul Schrader's morality tale of a call boy, offers some visual pleasures.Mixing his admiration for European art cinema with a voyeuristic view of the seamier side of sex and affluence, Schrader renders Julian an inscrutable, emotionally disengaged purveyor of pleasure, decked out in Giorgio Armani clothes coordinated with Ferdinando Scarfiotti's meticulous production design. Amid critical doubts about its artiness and distanced eroticism, it surprised everyone by not dying on the box office vine. With some audiences reportedly showing up for repeat viewings of Gere's seductive charms, it became a moderate hit, turning Gere into a star and Armani into the new fashion sensation. Whatever reservations one may have about the movie, it provided two indelible images of 1980's decadence to come: Gere's perusing his "artist's palette" of shirts, ties, and jackets, and Gere's cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway in his convertible to the New Wave strains of Blondie's "Call Me".
