by Shannon L. Grisso
Prison has provided the backdrop for many of the most enduring images and moments throughout cinema’s illustrious history. Something of a genre all to itself, the prison film has provided some all-time classics, films that come up fairly regularly on “Best Of” or “Classic Movie” lists. Whether a statement on the resilience of the human spirit (The Shawshank Redemption), the detailed examination and recreation of a daring escape attempt (Papillon, Escape from Alcatraz), a hard-hitting expose on the harsh realities of institutionalized life (1983’s Bad Boys, Brubaker, I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang), or a character study of an individualistic rebel whom even prison cannot truly contain (Cool Hand Luke, Birdman of Alcatraz), the prison remains a wellspring of cinematic gems, largely due, perhaps, to the rather blunt metaphor it serves for the cages and restraints society tends to place around true rebels.
Still, every time I study a list of “all time greatest prison movies” I can’t help but feel that something’s missing. Don’t get me wrong — The Shawshank Redemption really is a great movie, but I feel it really needs a scene where one character punches completely into, and through, the midsection of another character, unleashing a torrent of blood and guts. And, okay, there’s that great, truly iconic shot of Tim Robbins, arms to the side in a pseudo-crucifixion pose, but at no point does he take the opportunity to drive home the emotional intensity inherent in such a pose by shouting “Bastards!” at the top of his (hilariously dubbed) lungs.
And okay, I’ll admit — the characters played by Dustin Hoffman and Steve McQueen really do establish and share a deep and enduring bond on their common “need to be truly free,” but nowhere in the revered Papillon do they express this bond by one teaching the other how to take a simple leaf or blade of grass, and blow on it to produce a flute solo that outshines any of Zamfir’s pan flute pieces. Nowhere.
And, yeah, I get it — in most of these movies, the warden stands as the ultimate symbol of oppression. In fact, if you prefer, in most movies the chief warden is pretty much a dick, a total control freak who delights in taking the very last shreds of our hero’s humanity. But in none of the often cited prison classics do you have a warden who actually becomes a monster, an eight-foot-tall, rubbery-looking beast with a bad habit of just letting snot trail right out of his nose in large, ropy streams.
Another staple of the prison movie is to establish sympathy and understanding for our characters by showing us their backstory. Usually it’s a relatively petty crime that accidentally gets out of hand (Sean Penn’s vehicular manslaughter, which lands him in the reformatory, is really just an accident, for example), or maybe a set up or coincidence that leads to unjust imprisonment (as in what basically ends up happening to Tim Robbins in the beginning of Shawshank), but there’s only one movie I know of where the hero comes to prison with five bullets lodged inside his chest, “souvenirs,” he claims, fired at him by the bastard he blames for killing his girlfriend.
And yeah, yeah, yeah, I know — our hero in all these movies has to undertake some pretty drastic measures to prove himself in the eyes of his prison peers, such as when Sean Penn improvises a pillow case full of soda cans in Bad Boys, or when Paul Newman refuses to throw in the towel when getting beaten to a pulp by George Kennedy in Cool Hand Luke. So how come none of these movies on those typical “Top Prison Movies” lists don’t include a scene where our hero gets ground up glass shreds thrown directly into his eyes and his right arm badly hacked open during a fight scene, leading to our hero’s awesome comeback: first he bursts open a water main to wash the glass out of his eyes, then he reaches into his badly-slashed arm and takes the two severed ends of one of the major veins and ties them together, while — in the meantime — he has rather nonchalantly used his other arm to pop his opponent’s eyeball right out of his head?
In fact, I can think of only one prison movie where all that awesome crap happens, although, to be honest, that’s just for starters. In addition to all that amazing stuff, our hero also gets a huge spike shoved in one hand, which just causes him to punch his attacker with his other hand (and his punch literally causes his attacker to explode). In another showdown our hero lands a series of three punches on a much larger opponent. The first punch makes the opponent’s arm burst open at the elbow; the second from the knuckles to the wrist. Not to mention, this film is the only I can think of, prison genre or not, which actually utilizes a large, industrial-strength meat grinder to its full potential (that of grinding up the body of the warden in his monster form, spraying blood everywhere). It’s the only film in which a dog gets kicked in half, a character gets forced to swallow a handful of razor blades (which he then spits into the face of his attacker), the head of an extra is crushed between the fists of one of the bad guys (in a shot utilized on TV’s The Daily Show, at one point), and our hero punches into and through numerous villains, even punching the top half of one character’s head entirely off.
The one prison movie I’m thinking of is the gloriously, ludicrously over-the-top spectacle known as Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky, a truly gonzo 1991 Hong Kong production derived from the late 1980s Japanese manga. The Shawshank Redemption, Midnight Express, Escape from Alcatraz, etc. are all great movies, they really are, but they’re pretty heavy going, and to be honest, I’m not always in the mood to watch something that serious. Story of Ricky, on the other hand, is one of those rare movies I’m always ready to watch, so for that reason alone, I think it belongs not only on every “Top Prison Movie” list, but it belongs right on the top of each said list.
All my life I’ve had this unshakeable fear of having to go to prison. It’s not that I live a law-breaking life — truth be told, I behave myself pretty well, down to the point of being quite boring, actually — but more because I know if I ever did end up in prison, I’d be in some serious trouble. I’m not a very streetwise person, so the cons and scam artists would certainly make short work of me; I’m a short, skinny little wuss whom the bullies could abuse and amuse themselves with at their will; and, while certainly no heartthrob material, I do think my sweet ass would probably swap for lots and lots of packs of cigarettes, if you know what I mean.
Hopefully I’ll never find out for sure, but if things do happen to go bad for me and I do wind up tormented and abused in some institution somewhere, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll hear this haunting flute music, and I’ll turn around and there I’ll see Ricky, ready to lend a helping (and invincible) hand. I know we’d never be able to bond with him teaching me his techniques (his superhuman strength seems to derive, somehow, from very carefully-controlled breathing, which my asthma would prevent; likewise, the asthma would also prevent me from perfecting the leaf/grass blade flute symphony technique), but that’s okay. I’d be more than content to just sit back and watch ol’ Ricky go to work!
One last note — it’s not a movie, but the TV show Oz could also have benefited from Ricky’s presence. This show, which ran for six full seasons, would have probably lasted about six minutes before Ricky would have burst those walls down!
Next time you’re in the mood for a great prison flick, but none of the classics seem to have the blood, insane violence, bizarre set pieces, and just sheer over-the-top “what the hell is going on?” atmosphere, trust me. Give Story of Ricky a chance. You’ll be glad you did.