Posts Tagged ‘Harvey Keitel’

30. From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)

Director: Robert Rodriguez

Starring: Harvey Keitel, George Clooney, Quentin Tarantino, Juliette Lewis, Ernest Liu, Salma Hayek, Cheech Marin, Danny Trejo, Tom Savini, Fred Williamson, Michael Parks

It really doesn’t feel like it’s been 20 years since “From Dusk Till Dawn” was unleashed upon the world. In fact, it almost feels like it could have happened yesterday… or even overnight. The thing that best serves to keep this movie fresh in the mind is how effortlessly it is able to combine two completely different genres into one beautiful package. Add to that the fact that the script was written by Quentin Tarantino (as his first paid Hollywood writing gig) and an excellent cast of characters, and you have a classic modern horror movie on your hands.

Bank robbing brothers Seth (George Clooney) and Richie Gecko (Quentin Tarantino) are on the run, both from the FBI and law enforcement of the State of Texas. They’ve already killed a few cops, feds and civilians, and two more casualties soon follow at a liquor store. On top of it all, they’ve also kidnapped a bank clerk, to whom Seth has promised she will live as long as she does all that they ask of her. Unfortunately, Richie has a bit of an impulse control problem. He rapes and murders the woman while Seth has stepped out of their motel room to pick up some hamburgers.

Meanwhile, a family of three driving an RV fatefully stops to rest at the very same motel. Jacob Fuller (Harvey Keitel) is a former preacher who lately has questioned his faith following the death by auto accident of his wife. Jacob and his children, Kate (Juliette Lewis) and Scott (Ernest Liu), are to be the Gecko brothers’ next hostages. Forcing Jacob to drive past the Mexican border, the Gecko brothers’ destination is a strip club called the Titty Twister, where are supposed to rendezvous at dawn with a man named Carlos. Until that time, they intend to enjoy themselves, and encourage the Fullers to do the same.

The fun only lasts a short while. After a very sexy show from the featured attraction, Santanico Pandemonium (Salma Hayek), the truth of this place is revealed: All of the employees (the girls, the bartender, the band, Santanico and others) are in fact vampires! Most of the truckers and bikers who’ve shown up to eat, drink and get their rocks off are killed within minutes. Richie himself is bitten and killed by Santanico. When Richie turns, Seth is forced to drive a wooden stake through his heart. By the end of the initial assault, the only ones who still have a pulse are Seth, Jacob, Kate, Scott, Sex Machine (Tom Savini) and Frost (Fred Williamson).

As the survivors commit to dealing with the dead bodies so as to prevent them from rising up again, one of them bites Sex Machine on the arm. Gradually, he turns into a vampire. When he does, Sex Machine bites both Frost and Jacob. As Frost becomes a vampire, he tosses Sex Machine through a door, allowing a second wave of vampire to fly in as bats. Retreating to a storage room, Seth, Kate and Scott and an injured Jacob (wielding a shotgun) make the most out of what they can find to create weapons to be used against the vampire horde. This includes a Super Soaker with holy water (for Scott), a crossbow (for Kate), and a rather phallic pneumatic drill with an attached wooden stake (for Seth).

Going back out into the crowd of vampires, the group begins to fight back. Jacob doesn’t last long before he changes and bites Scott. Kate is forced to kill her father, and then her brother as well. Having lost their weapons in the fracas, Seth and Kate are down to one gun with a scant amount of ammunition. Daybreak arrives, and the sunlight starts to peek through the holes in the walls, made by earlier gunfire. Seth instructs Kate to create more holes, but it’s only partially effective, as the vampires continue to close in on them. Just then, Carlos (Cheech Marin) and his men show up outside. Seth hollers at him to shoot down the doors, which then exposes all the vampires inside to sunlight, killing them in a fiery explosion. Expressing anger at Carlos’s ignorance of just what kind of establishment that the Titty Twister turned out to have been, Seth makes their planned exchange, and give some of the money to Kate. Afterwards, Seth sends Kate on her way back home, while he departs for El Rey, Mexico.

The second-best movie I’ve watched all month (behind only “Psycho”), I have long considered “From Dusk Till Dawn” to be a fantastic movie in every conceivable way. It’s horrific (thanks to wonderful makeup effects from KNB), it’s well-acted… George Clooney in particular is just superb… and expertly written. I love the fact that it’s essentially two movies for the price of one, starting off as a action-crime getaway movie before transforming into a vampire flick at the sixty-minute mark.

I kinda wish we’d seen a little more from Tom Savini’s Sex Machine, as he’s just hilarious. Cheech Marin, a veteran of Robert Rodriguez’s films, plays three roles: in addition to Carlos, he also shows up as a border patrol officer and as one of the vampires. Greg Nicotero (best known today for his directing and supervision of the makeup effects on TV’s “The Walking Dead”), in addition to working on the makeup effects for “From Dusk Till Dawn,” also cameos as a biker from whom Sex Machine steals a beer. Although Nicotero’s character dies off-screen in the final cut of the film, a deleted scene shows that his head is bitten off by Santanico Pandemonium.

If you love the work of Quentin Tarantino but never have bothered with “From Dusk Till Dawn,” you’re missing a lot! Everything that makes a Tarantino script great is present here. If you’re a “Walking Dead” fan and love the gore that the show provides… same answer, except that it probably would have been even better before cuts were made to bring the movie down to an R-rating. Basically, you can’t go wrong. As fresh now as it was in 1996. Two decades from now, you’ll doubtless be able to say the same thing, because “From Dusk Till Dawn,” like the creatures of the night that it depicts, is immortal.

Taxi Driver (1976)

Director: Martin Scorsese

Starring: Robert De Niro, Jodie Foster, Harvey Keitel, Cybill Shepherd, Albert Brooks, Leonard Harris, Peter Boyle

Among the most commonly misinterpreted films I’ve come across over the years, one of the best all-around has to be Martin Scorsese’s “Taxi Driver.” Between the critics who denounce it for being too violent and the casual viewers who mistake the pretty straightforward ending for an imagined scenario that takes place only in the mind of the main character, they all seem to miss what’s truly at the center of this picture. The greatest movie of Martin Scorsese’s career does have its moments of violence, yes, but they are few and far between. Nor is it a story that is strictly about 1970’s New York. What happens here could happen anywhere in any time period. The story presented here is of one man’s feelings of isolation brought about by his complete lack of social skills. In order to alleviate the pain caused by his loneliness, our main character (note that I’m not using the word “hero”) sets out on a mission to save someone else from their own miserable situation. In this way, he believes that his life might finally count for something.

Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) is that sad individual. A twenty-six year old former Marine, Travis has taken a job as a New York taxi cab driver because he suffers from insomnia. We are meant to assume this condition has been brought about by his experiences in Vietnam, although if you’re looking for specifics beyond that, don’t bother. One day, while driving past the Presidential campaign headquarters for candidate Charles Palantine (Leonard Harris), Travis spots a beautiful blonde in the window named Betsy (Cybill Shepherd) and is instantly smitten. He walks in under the pretense that he wants to volunteer for Palantine, but really all he wants is to take her out for coffee and pie. He observes that she doesn’t seem happy at her job. He’s offering to rescue her from the confines of that boring office with all of those equally boring people who can’t possibly respect her. Out of curiosity more than anything, she agrees.

The first date goes well enough that Travis pushes for a second, this time at the movies. What Betsy doesn’t realize is just what kind of movie theater Travis has in mind. You see, before meeting this woman with whom he has become hopelessly infatuated, Travis would routinely visit the local porno theater. Not that he goes there to relieve any sort of tension, mind you. It’s because he’s been so immersed in the ugly parts of this world for so long that he mistakes this as being a completely normal place for couples to go out on a date. (For the record, the film playing at the XXX theater is the 1969 Swedish sex education film “Language of Love.”) Disgusted, Betsy storms out and hails a taxi cab to take her back home. It’s immediately after this that the movie’s best scene takes place.

Everyone, including people who’ve never seen “Taxi Driver” before, knows about the scene where Travis stands in front of a mirror and poses the iconic question, “You talkin’ to me?” But that happens much later. The scene which I am “talkin'” about sees Travis sometime after the aborted date on a pay phone calling Betsy in an attempt to apologize for his mistake. He tries to set up possibilities for future dates, asks if she received flowers sent by him, and offers other cringeworthy questions and comments. As though the movie itself agrees with us that this scene is getting too painful to watch, the camera moves over to the adjacent hallway to give Travis a little privacy. This scene establishes better than any other just what kind of feelings this movie is trying to pry out of its audience. Above all else, Travis is a man to be pitied.

Having failed so completely with Betsy, Travis’s last chance at relevancy comes in the form of a twelve-year old prostitute named Iris (Jodie Foster). He pays for her as any regular customer would, but he doesn’t want to make it with Iris. He wants to rescue her. The question that is never definitively answered is whether or not Iris actually wants to be rescued. She points to a bad relationship with her parents, although as with Travis’s time spent in Vietnam we never hear anything about it beyond that, never any hint as to why she ran away from home and began a life of selling her body for money. Just as he did with Besty’s co-workers, Travis takes an immediate disliking towards Iris’s pimp Matthew, a.k.a. Sport (Harvey Keitel). Armed to the teeth with illegally-purchased firearms, Travis has become obsessed with the idea of killing the Presidential candidate, but narrowly escapes arrest or worse when the Secret Service foil his attempt. Instead, Travis heads back to the brothel to rescue Iris. It is here that the most intense piece of violence occurs. The camera, which had been squeamish in that earlier scene, does not shy away once during this entire sequence, eventually giving us an aerial view of the situation.

Apart from the aforementioned phone call scene, the other moment which I patiently wait for ever time I watch “Taxi Driver” is the breakfast scene where Travis first tries to convince Iris to leave the streets of New York behind and go home to her family. In a manner of speaking, the two are polar opposites. Iris is a young girl whose circumstances have caused her to grow up faster than she was meant to at her age, while Travis is a man whose mental and social hang-ups have stunted his personal growth. Up until this moment, Robert De Niro has been the most dominant force driving this movie, but then suddenly here comes young Jodie Foster, already displaying the immense talent that would eventually win her not one but two Oscars for Best Actress more than a decade later. Foster and De Niro were both nominated for “Taxi Driver” but, criminally so, their work, especially for the scene at the diner, went unrecognized. I would also be remiss if I didn’t at least mention the score by Bernarnd Hermann (the last of the brilliant composer’s distinguished career), a beautiful jazzy composition that becomes its own character.

Finally, I want to address something that’s been eating at me since I finished my latest viewing of “Taxi Driver.” The film has been frequently compared to the John Ford western “The Searchers,” citing similar plotlines. I hadn’t paid any attention to the comparison until now. In “The Searchers,” John Wayne’s character goes on a personal mission to rescue Natalie Wood from a tribe of Indians who took her captive years earlier. But the catch is that the girl, who has since gone native, may not actually want to be rescued. Hell, in “Taxi Driver,” Sport even refers to Travis as “Cowboy.” Although I am admittedly not a fan of either John Wayne or “The Searchers,” this revelation has changed the way I look at “Taxi Driver,” a movie I already considered to be among my favorites, for the better.

Reservoir Dogs (1992)

Director: Quentin Tarantino

Starring: Harvey Keitel, Tim Roth, Chris Penn, Steve Buscemi, Lawrence Tierney, Michael Madsen

The crime caper genre truly is a most intriguing one. As the audience, we will likely stand as the only living witnesses in following along as felonies are committed, money/jewels are lifted, and bullets fly. We champion one or more of the main characters as the action progresses. We do these things not because these are the characters the movie has chosen to focus on, but because the actors who bring them to life really know their shtick, and perhaps because we’ve seen something of ourselves within them. The hardened criminals, who are capable of gunning down teams of police officers (and the occasional bystanders) without even blinking, have been humanized.

Joe Cabot (Lawrence Tierney) has arranged for six men to steal a satchel full of diamonds. To ensure that they have nothing to tell the police about each other should anything go wrong, all six men go by assigned colors as their aliases. After a pre-title sequence involving a discussion on the meaning behind Madonna’s “Like a Virgin,” we find out fast that the heist did not go according to plan at all. Writhing in pain and screaming in fear at the sight of his own blood is Mr. Orange (Tim Roth), dying from a gunshot wound to the belly and sprawled out in the back of a stolen car with Mr. White (Harvey Keitel) at the wheel. At this moment, they have no idea if anyone else made it out alive, and Mr. White is focused on calming his hemorrhaging partner down and making it to the warehouse set up as the rendezvous point.

Once at the warehouse, White and Orange are soon met by Mr. Pink (Steve Buscemi), who managed to make it out of the chaos with the diamonds. That leaves only two they’re unsure about: Mr. Blonde (Michael Madsen) and Mr. Blue (Eddie Bunker). Mr. White and Mr. Orange (who is now lying unconscious) know of Mr. Brown (Quentin Tarantino)’s fate. Brown was to have been the getaway driver, but took a cop’s bullet right between the eyes. Mr. Pink and Mr. White talk about the events that led them into their current messy situation. Both are appalled at the actions of Mr. Blonde, who killed many civilians after the bank’s alarm was triggered. Mr. Pink is certain there’s a mole in their group, because he’d noticed two sets of police cars arriving at the scene. One, he surmises, was already there lying in wait while the second wave was the one responding to the alarm. The two start to argue over whether to risk apprehension by driving Orange to a hospital, where he might have a fighting chance to live, and draw their guns on one another.

This is where a very much alive Mr. Blonde makes his presence felt. He is truly a “psychopath,” as described by Mr. White. There is nothing about Mr. Blonde that should make the audience want to see him make it through to the end. Despite this, Michael Madsen does such a good job at making Blonde a despicable human being that we love to hate him. Quentin Tarantino’s subsequent films have often given the impression that they may exist within the same universe, and the theory goes that Mr. Blonde, whose real name is revealed later (as are one or two others) is the brother of John Travolta’s character from “Pulp Fiction.” Though never confirmed by “Pulp Fiction,” I do like the idea.

Though I’m sure it was done largely to cut down on set costs, I think it’s brilliant that we never see the actual heist. Most of the movie takes place at the warehouse. We have to allow the characters’ testimony to exist as fact, because we weren’t there and didn’t see what happened. We can also use our imagniation to fill in the blanks. This way, “Reservoir Dogs” can focus on its characters, showing in flashbacks how three of the six men got hired. There’s not much to Mr. White’s flashback. We already know he’s a tough guy who will do whatever is necessary to either see a job completed or get away alive. What we aren’t shown… and what WAS shown by that opening scene in the car… is his human side, his empathy brought out by Mr. Orange’s suffering. The other two flashbacks do tell us more about the men behind the colorful nicknames, what their true names are and what their motivations for taking the job happen to be. In addition to the minimization of the set locations, no one was hired to compose a musical score. The only times you hear any songs in the film are when someone turns on a radio (exceptions to this being the opening and closing credits). Otherwise, the roar of the warehouse’s pipes serves as the only background noise.

Everybody who has seen and enjoyed “Reservoir Dogs” has a favorite character. Some like the take-charge Mr. White, owing to Harvey Keitel’s familiarity with this type of role. For many, it’s Steve Buscemi’s pessimistic, paranoid Mr. Pink who tickles the funny bone. For me, it’s Tim Roth as Mr. Orange, the kid who’s in over his head with a job for which time could not have helped him prepare for all possible contingencies. At the time I first saw the movie, I had no idea of Roth’s true nationality, which only further goes to show how terrific an actor he is. (Exactly why is it that English actors seem to have no trouble in faking an American accent, but not vice versa?) “Reservoir Dogs” being Quentin Tarantino’s first go at a full-length motion picture signaled great things to come. No one could have known how great. Tarantino’s ability as a writer/director to communicate to his audience through his characters… often with the use of pop culture references… is part of what makes his movies as entertaining as they are. Even makes you forget that your rooting for the bad guys.

Red Dragon (2002)

Director: Brett Ratner

Starring: Anthony Hopkins, Edward Norton, Ralph Fiennes, Harvey Keitel, Emily Watson, Mary-Louise Parker, Philip Seymour Hoffman

Remakes often confound me. With stage plays, it is easy to understand the enthusiasm for multiple versions of a story, always with different actors playing the same roles, speaking the same lines. But, with movies, my attitude is a little bit different. I think, when you get it right once, and it is committed to film for all eternity, there doesn’t seem much need to fix what isn’t broken. I don’t understand why we need three versions of “King Kong,” and the endless barrage of horror and science-fiction remakes is as disheartening as it is boring. Of course, not all remakes are a waste of time. Some of the most heralded movies ever made are themselves remakes. Perhaps the best examples I know of are “Ben-Hur” (1959) and “The Wizard of Oz” (1939), stories which had first been filmed during the Silent Era. “Red Dragon” is the second film adaptation of the Thomas Harris novel of the same name, the first being 1986’s “Manhunter.” In terms of improvement vs. unnecessary, where does “Red Dragon” rank as a retelling? Actually, it fits somewhere in-between.

As we know from “Manhunter,” FBI agent Will Graham (Edward Norton) is lured out of retirement to aid in the apprehension of Francis Dolarhyde (Ralph Fiennes), wanted for the murders of two families. Will gets stuck, as he had in a previous case on which he had consulted with Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins). Little did Will realize he was working with another serial killer. The two almost kill one another, with Will gaining the upper hand and putting Dr. Lecter behind bars. This was the incident that led to Will’s retirement, and now he must overcome his fears by seeking out Hannibal’s counsel once more if he is to have any chance of figuring out Dolarhyde’s motive, identity and whereabouts.

This representation of “Red Dragon” is more faithful to its source material than “Manhunter” (which has a remarkably different ending) is, but fidelity does not automatically make it better. The original film kept the focus on Will Graham, leaving certain members of the cast with very little to do. Although those other characters are more fleshed out (in particular the character of Reba, Dolarhyde’s blind girlfriend, played by Emily Watson), I have to say that the extra screen time given to William Petersen’s Will Graham allowed the audience to see how he could easily become the evil he hunts, given the right push. Edward Norton, an actor whom I have had great respect and admiration for ever since I saw both “American History X” and “Fight Club,” doesn’t project this image at all. He shows some of the same ability to get into the killer’s mind, but a lot of it has more to do with visual aids than with instinct.

As you might expect, Anthony Hopkins is given a bigger role than Brian Cox was sixteen years earlier. He does a better job of showing how Lecter can get into Will’s head like no one else can. The filmmakers know that Hopkins has been the heart and soul of this series, and they also know what an unforgettable performance he gave in “The Silence of the Lambs.” To that end, the set designers have reconstructed Hannibal Lecter’s cell in perfect detail. We also finally get to see, in the prologue, the flautist Benjamin Raspail whom we’ve been told about in both “The Silence of the Lambs” and “Hannibal.” An especially nice touch is the casting of film and TV composer Lalo Schifrin as the Baltimore Philharmonic Orchestra’s conductor. With Francis Dolarhyde given greater attention this time around, Ralph Fiennes is able to craft a better picture of the mentally tormented man who refers to himself as the Red Dragon. You get more of a sense that this guy is someone to be pitied and condemned all at once. He’s a much more damaged individual, whereas Dolarhyde as played by Tom Noonan was too tall to be anything but frightening.

Two other standouts among the cast are Philip Seymour Hoffman and Mary-Louise Parker. Hoffman portrays tabloid reporter Freddy Lounds as every bit the slimy character that Stephen Lang did. Hoffman is a joy to watch, and it’s a pity his role isn’t a larger one than it is. Although Molly Graham still doesn’t have very many scenes, Mary-Louise Parker makes the most of her small part. Unlike Kim Griest, Parker at least is given more important things to do than just standing around looking concerned.

The best remakes don’t rely too heavily on what came before and just try to do their own thing. This method doesn’t always work, however, as straying too far from the source can lead to a giant mess that is either too silly or is just nonsensical. If you’ve already watched “Manhunter” before, this one is also worth seeing. Be warned, however. While “Red Dragon” is thankfully not a shot-for-shot remake like “Psycho” (1998), the plot has enough in common with “Manhunter” that it wouldn’t do well to watch the two back-to-back. You definitely want to leave a decent amount of space between your two screenings. If you haven’t seen “Manhunter,” then it’s not a problem to go ahead and watch “Red Dragon”. It’s a good movie on it’s own, and probably the best film in the career of director Brett Ratner. If you truly wanted to compare the two, you are likely to find that there are certain things which each does better than the other. For me, the two casts are more or less equal, “Manhunter” has the better story and soundtrack, while “Red Dragon” features superior cinematography. Ultimately, I prefer “Manhunter” for its portrayal of a hero character on the cusp of being the thing he has spent a career tracking down. This I find much more compelling than the standard tale of a villain corrupted as a child from years of abuse.

30. Pulp Fiction (1994)

Director: Quentin Tarantino

Starring: John Travolta, Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman, Bruce Willis, Harvey Keitel, Tim Roth, Amanda Plummer, Maria de Medeiros, Ving Rhames, Eric Stoltz, Rosanna Arquette, Christopher Walken, Quentin Tarantino, Frank Whaley

Were I to pick one director with whom I most desire to have a sit-down discussion accompanied by a few drinks, it would be Quentin Tarantino. In his interviews, he leaves me with the impression that he and I share more than a few of the same interests in the world of cinema as well as music. Tell me you can listen to “Jungle Boogie” and not want to get up out of your chair and dance badly. It doesn’t hurt that Tarantino and I also share the same birthplace of Knoxville, Tennessee. I freely admit to giggling the first time I heard Bruce Willis mention my hometown in this movie.

I would love to tell Tarantino in person how I feel about each one of his movie scripts, but I would undoubtedly spend the most time on the subject of “Pulp Fiction.” Its narrative format having been inspired by the 1963 Mario Bava-directed horror anthology film “Black Sabbath,” “Pulp Fiction” is a three-movement symphony, of which the instruments are violence and witty dialogue. Not a single character in the movie can be categorized as a “good” person, and yet the story provides for us ways in which to both sympathize and root for them all to succeed at what they’re doing.

One of my favorite things Tarantino does with this movie comes during the segment featuring the boxer named Butch, played by Bruce Willis. He’s in the process of making his getaway after winning a match in which he was supposed to take a dive. While driving back to the motel room where his girlfriend is waiting for him, he comes to a stop sign. Right there in front of him crossing the street is the crime boss he cheated out of thousands of dollars. It’s right out of a scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho,” and it’s just perfectly played.

I don’t know if I can come up with another actor in the last twenty years whose film career experienced a resurrection quite like John Travolta’s did thanks to “Pulp Fiction.”  Introduced to the world by the TV show “Welcome Back, Kotter” and the films “Grease” and “Saturday Night Fever,” his best pre-“Pulp Fiction” movie is easily Brian De Palma’s 1981 conspiracy thriller “Blow Out.” The early 1990’s, however, saw Travolta starring as the father of a talking baby in “Look Who’s Talking” and its sequels. Thank goodness for Tarantino! As the accident-prone hitman Vincent Vega, whether he’s the focus or not, Travolta has a key part to play in each of the movie’s three segments, each involving messes that Vincent creates which someone else will have to help to clean up. You get the sense that Vincent might shoot his own foot off if someone weren’t around to hold him by the hand.

John Travolta gets many of the film’s best lines, but the majority of those that aren’t spoken by him are given to Samuel L. Jackson as Jules, Vincent’s partner in the hit assignments. Jackson plays Jules as a man who can walk into any room and take control of a given situation, even when the odds seem against him. He’s as much of a smooth talker as he is a stone cold killer. But Jules is not a stoic individual. When someone annoys him, Jules will let them know it immediately, and not always with his words. But a near-death experience which Jules equates to an act of God causes him to question whether he still wants to be in his current line of work. Probably the smartest decision he’s come to in his life. Samuel L. Jackson is so reliably good at his craft, is it any wonder how he got more work in the 1990’s than any other actor?

Although Vincent and Jules are clearly my favorite characters, and although there are several noteworthy performances throughout including that of Uma Thurman (whose image dominates the promotional material for “Pulp Fiction”), my favorite piece of acting comes in the flashback that leads into the “Gold Watch” segment. No, I’m not talking about Christopher Walken, although he is terrific. The guy is so good that he can star as the villain in the worst James Bond movie of all-time (1985’s “A View to a Kill”) and still be the best part of it. No, I’m referring to the child actor playing the young Butch. This kid deserved an award of some kind. How do you listen to the speech that Walken gives in this scene and manage to keep a straight face? Granted, the way the scene is set up, it’s possible they might’ve filmed their parts separately and would thus never have been on set at the same time, but I’d like to think this kid sat attentively without so much as breaking a smile while the great Christopher Walken talked of hiding a watch in the one place no one would ever think to search for it.

I close on this final thought: If there does not exist somewhere in this world a Jack Rabbit Slim’s restaurant, there should. If it does exist, then it’s on my bucket list of things to do before I die to locate this place and eat there.