Filmed in 1998, this 82 minute film begins with a big band sounding score that seems to expand in every direction and mirrors the chaos to come. The credits fall and seeing George Wall (Jack Marnell) behind the bar of his own establishment is right on point with the music.
Marnell’s hard nosed exterior isn’t a facade either. The actor’s coarse delivery matches up, and it follows that the character has no reservations about being one of his best customers.
Marnell also exudes a relentless pride from being a lifelong cop. On the other hand, Marnell’s whole demeanor screams that sometimes corners must be cut in the life of a law enforcement officer.
In his Greenpoint Bar, the cinematographic framing and lighting of Cornelius Schultze-Kraft reiterates the necessity. Darkened and swanky, the natural light dimly shining in tells us that delivering public safety works best when the police operate in the shadows.
The less than introspective clientele clearly agree, and the same goes for the retiree roster that begins to fill out at the bar. The First is Zap Zachery.
Portrayed by JJ Flash, he’s got his own form of eloquence. A crude Brooklyn vernacular, everything is reduced to survival mode on his terms, and the profanity laden diatribes likely extend to the tip of his billy club. For the guilty and any nearby collateral damage, the impassioned resolve of Flash’s performance makes no apologies
Next is Louie (Steve Kasprzak). He’s definitely not the brains of the operation, and despite being the only one with a heart, the sentimentality doesn’t help. Tortured by his past, Kasprzak’s portrayal makes us feel like the actor has actually lived it, and the only escape comes through the bottle.
Struggling for clarity or not, Kasprzak makes sure his character doesn’t let humanity get in the way of the agreed upon agenda of this specific cop culture. There’s a neighborhood to cleanup, and no constraints, they are the men to do it.
The final of the four is JJ (Albert J. Johnson). A broken man from his years of service and personal loss, inward pain has made him immune to emotion, and Johnson delivers cold calculation like comedians drop punchlines.
All together, the stereotype is hard to miss. We have four bad Brooklyn cops whose sense of entitlement deems them all knowing in terms of policing a jungle. So the set up in place, a crime very close to home begins the group’s proactive response to clean up the drug infested neighborhood.
Not pretty, the quartet does not hold back after so many years of being restricted by a soft system. That said, the gritty presentation of the time certainly provides justification for action. Out on the street, the cinematography almost looks like documentary footage, and the viewer feels like they are entering the wild west days of the era.
Nonetheless, the decision to engage puts the tragedy in motion. Of course, that means their unfettered brand of police work goes up a notch and gives further depth to the quartet’s depravity. It’s not pretty, and seamlessly drawn into the drama and descent, we are certainly not immune as the mess unfolds.
The Bulls’ Night Out is also on familiar ground. Anti-hero worship in particular, when the world comes crashing down on the likes of a Tony Soprano or Walter White, the driving force of these series finally has the balloon burst.
We still wanted these monstrous, yet likable characters to find the goodness inside themselves, and the never ending cycle keeps us hanging on. We mourn the tragedy of what might have been, and the result resonates in true human form.
The ultimate failure of street justice added to the mix, the viewer can’t help cheering for the downfall.
The unraveling is too straightforward and doesn’t delineate from what we already know. As a result, we don’t empathize and their well meaning attempt to make a difference fails to make us feel the tragedy.