1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 7: Bound
Before they became Lana and Lilly, the Wachowskis were Larry and Andy: the Wachowski Brothers, makers of The Matrix. And before they made The Matrix, they made Bound.
Bound has three great performances:
Gina Gershon’s performance as “Corky”;
Jennifer Tilly’s as “Violet”;
and, especially, Joe Pantoliano’s as “Caesar.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Corky has just served a five-year prison sentence. Her crime was “the redistribution of wealth” (her words). She takes a plumbing job and moves into a seedy apartment. On the other side of her paper-thin wall is a much fancier apartment inhabited by Caesar (a mobster) and Violet (his kept woman).
Violet is “bound” to Caesar, not only for her livelihood but also for her identity.
But then she makes eyes at Corky.
Caesar’s preoccupation with “the business” affords Violet and Corky plenty of time to lie in bed together and scheme. Violet wants to steal from the mob and allow Caesar to be blamed for it. This would enable her to break away from her miserable situation.
Only, Corky isn’t sold on the idea. Crossing the mob is dangerous, and she doesn’t yet trust Violet (it was a previous girlfriend who landed her in prison).
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
“Bound,” the title, can mean several things. I think the most important meaning has to do with choosing whether to connect oneself to another person.
To trust or not to trust? That is this movie’s question.
Violet is ready to tie her fate to Corky’s, win or lose.
Caesar’s job doesn’t allow him to trust anyone. His paranoia poisons his allegiances and exacerbates his enmities. Paradoxically, it’s this inability to trust that makes him exploitable.
And then there’s Corky, the merely occasional lawbreaker. On the “trust” spectrum, she’s halfway between Violet and Caesar. She could maintain her independence and come out unscathed. Or she could go “all in” and bind herself to Violet.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
That’s the setup. It occupies roughly the first half of the movie and focuses on Violet and Corky.
There’s an over-the-top lustiness to Violet’s and Corky’s scheming. Although they have a noble objective – to “unbind” Violet from Caesar – they also scheme for the erotic thrill of it. Violet’s flirting is both saccharine and sardonic. Corky, bloodhound-like, lets her mouth hang open as if she’s trying to taste Violet’s true intentions.
Caesar is mostly offscreen so that Violet and Corky can stack the dominoes against him.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Then, in the second half of the movie, the dominoes come tumbling down and Caesar takes the center stage. Violet and Corky have the upper hand; they’re the ones who’ve laid the traps. It’s up to Caesar to ingeniously dodge one calamity after another – first the anvil and then the grand piano, so to speak – without understanding who is dropping these things upon him.
As in Hitchcock’s Rope and Dial M for Murder, the action is confined to a single, well-furnished living space (Caesar’s and Violet’s apartment). This intensifies the feeling of being stifled. From time to time, the protagonists are obliged to hide damning clues just outside the view of the various mobsters and police who drop by. They also must behave politely for these visitors. To Caesar, this is especially onerous, since he despises his fellow mobsters and the law. It’s amusing to watch him grovel while, internally, he seethes.
Even so, we can’t help but admire him. Yes, he’s a vicious predator. Like Wile E. Coyote, though, he’s a tenacious and resourceful one.
If only he’d given Violet her due respect.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
P.S. For an interesting variation upon the “Caesar” character, see Joe Pantoliano’s performance in Risky Business (1983) as “Guido, the Killer Pimp.” In that movie, also, Pantoliano steals his scenes.
Bound has three great performances:
Gina Gershon’s performance as “Corky”;
Jennifer Tilly’s as “Violet”;
and, especially, Joe Pantoliano’s as “Caesar.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Corky has just served a five-year prison sentence. Her crime was “the redistribution of wealth” (her words). She takes a plumbing job and moves into a seedy apartment. On the other side of her paper-thin wall is a much fancier apartment inhabited by Caesar (a mobster) and Violet (his kept woman).
Violet is “bound” to Caesar, not only for her livelihood but also for her identity.
But then she makes eyes at Corky.
Caesar’s preoccupation with “the business” affords Violet and Corky plenty of time to lie in bed together and scheme. Violet wants to steal from the mob and allow Caesar to be blamed for it. This would enable her to break away from her miserable situation.
Only, Corky isn’t sold on the idea. Crossing the mob is dangerous, and she doesn’t yet trust Violet (it was a previous girlfriend who landed her in prison).
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
“Bound,” the title, can mean several things. I think the most important meaning has to do with choosing whether to connect oneself to another person.
To trust or not to trust? That is this movie’s question.
Violet is ready to tie her fate to Corky’s, win or lose.
Caesar’s job doesn’t allow him to trust anyone. His paranoia poisons his allegiances and exacerbates his enmities. Paradoxically, it’s this inability to trust that makes him exploitable.
And then there’s Corky, the merely occasional lawbreaker. On the “trust” spectrum, she’s halfway between Violet and Caesar. She could maintain her independence and come out unscathed. Or she could go “all in” and bind herself to Violet.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
That’s the setup. It occupies roughly the first half of the movie and focuses on Violet and Corky.
There’s an over-the-top lustiness to Violet’s and Corky’s scheming. Although they have a noble objective – to “unbind” Violet from Caesar – they also scheme for the erotic thrill of it. Violet’s flirting is both saccharine and sardonic. Corky, bloodhound-like, lets her mouth hang open as if she’s trying to taste Violet’s true intentions.
Caesar is mostly offscreen so that Violet and Corky can stack the dominoes against him.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Then, in the second half of the movie, the dominoes come tumbling down and Caesar takes the center stage. Violet and Corky have the upper hand; they’re the ones who’ve laid the traps. It’s up to Caesar to ingeniously dodge one calamity after another – first the anvil and then the grand piano, so to speak – without understanding who is dropping these things upon him.
As in Hitchcock’s Rope and Dial M for Murder, the action is confined to a single, well-furnished living space (Caesar’s and Violet’s apartment). This intensifies the feeling of being stifled. From time to time, the protagonists are obliged to hide damning clues just outside the view of the various mobsters and police who drop by. They also must behave politely for these visitors. To Caesar, this is especially onerous, since he despises his fellow mobsters and the law. It’s amusing to watch him grovel while, internally, he seethes.
Even so, we can’t help but admire him. Yes, he’s a vicious predator. Like Wile E. Coyote, though, he’s a tenacious and resourceful one.
If only he’d given Violet her due respect.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
P.S. For an interesting variation upon the “Caesar” character, see Joe Pantoliano’s performance in Risky Business (1983) as “Guido, the Killer Pimp.” In that movie, also, Pantoliano steals his scenes.