Movies rarely affect me to a point where I want to leave the room during a given scene or scenario. In Rahad’s living room, I felt just as trapped as our three would-be drug dealer/con artists Dirk, Reed and Todd. Their anxiety was my own with each POP! of a firecracker, several of which you confuse with gunshots, especially when Rahan, high on crack-cocaine, pulls out a revolver to play a little Russian roulette. Every single person has been to that guy’s house they never wanted to go to in the first place where things get as weird/dangerous as you think they will. All you’re thinking is, “Let’s get the f*ck out of here now.”
In fact, going back to the beginning of the scene, once Rahad’s front door opens, you get a sense that you’re entering hell along with these three troubled characters. It’s the worst place you could possibly end up. And regardless of the moral implications of what these people do professionally, their intentions were once relatively pure until cocaine entered the mix and corrupted their bodies and minds.
Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl,” Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian” and Nena’s “99 Luftballoons” will all taken on new meanings, as Anderson gets as much of the unexpected potential these seemingly innocent pop songs (not unlike his predecessor Martin Scorsese).
I don’t like to throw around too much hyperbole, but I often consider this to be my favorite movie scene of all time. For me, while what preceded this certainly soars on its own and exhibited Anderson as a filmmaker to watch (one with a clear idea of his own film grammar), the deal gone bad at Rahad’s catapulted him to an elite level of talent and storytelling. I will never, ever tire of this movie, thanks primarily to this scene.
