MIAMI BLUES (1990)

Looking back to the halcyon cinematic time that was the 1990s, it was fairly common to see low-to-mid-budget quirky films hit our screens at regular intervals, and for the most part they’d be interesting and worthwhile watches—a few may even have turned a profit. Some titles that come to mind include One False Move (1992), Before Sunrise (1995), Swingers (1996), Pi (1998), and Go (1999).

Of course, any film buff worth their popcorn could easily list another 20. The point I’m trying to make is that, unlike today, Hollywood studios were far happier to produce these less mainstream films because they could always depend on the home video market that would help boost their sales. Nowadays, such films would most likely go straight to streaming, more’s the pity. However, I’d wager the following feature being discussed here easily falls into this category—and has gone largely unseen by many—and that’s the underappreciated black comedy Miami Blues.

Directed by George Armitage (Grosse Pointe Blank) and based on Charles Willeford’s cult novel, the film was released in 1990 when conventional crime thrillers were either slick and action-packed or gritty and straight-laced. This one was neither. Part crime caper, part character study, Miami Blues offers up a heady cocktail of sunshine, dark humour, and violence, all topped off with a skewed view of American culture.

The film opens with Frederick J. Frenger Jr. (Alec Baldwin), known as “Junior”, arriving in Miami fresh off a stint in prison. Within minutes, he’s broken a Hare Krishna’s finger at the airport (a move that unexpectedly leads to the man’s death), stolen a credit card, and assumed the identity from said card, Herman Gotlieb—and that’s just within the first few minutes! These opening scenes set up the film’s tone perfectly: bright visuals, casual cruelty, all nicely complemented by a deranged yet somehow still likeable career criminal, who’s just as good with laying on the charm as he is with giving someone a nasty kicking.

Junior soon crosses paths with Susie Waggoner (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a strangely naive university student who earns extra money on the side working as a call girl. Before you can say ‘white picket fences’, the pair embark on a whirlwind relationship and move into a quaint pastel-painted house. Meanwhile, following in hot pursuit is grizzled, way-past-his-prime Sgt Hoke Moseley (Fred Ward), a no-nonsense denture-wearing Miami detective, who’s keen to capture Junior after taking a beating from him and losing his false teeth and police badge in the process.

Filmmaker Armitage may not be that well known amongst certain other bigger director names, but he’s got a distinct talent for this type of feature, and when you consider his past work, it’s easy to see how he became attached to it. Like a lot of his peers in the 1960s and 1970s, his career got underway thanks to legendary producer Roger Corman—and this was where he cut his teeth on grindhouse-style genre fare. His first directorial feature was the sex comedy Private Duty Nurses (1971), which he also wrote and co-produced. He then wrote its sequel Night Call Nurses (1972), after which he wrote, produced, and directed Hit Man (1972), a blaxploitation-themed adaptation of the Ted Lewis 1970 novel Jack’s Return Home, which, funnily enough, was adapted a year earlier as the gritty Michael Caine-starring classic Get Carter (1971). These films may well have been cheaply produced and leaned heavily into seedy exploitation territory, but from looking at some of the reviews, they were relatively well made and went down well with their targeted audience of the day.

Interestingly, the director had not worked in over a decade when Charles Willeford’s novel of the same name was brought to the attention of co-star Fred Ward and successful filmmaker Jonathan Demme (The Silence of the Lambs). Ward wanted Demme to direct it, but as he’d just filmed Married to the Mob (1988) in Miami, he wasn’t interested in making another crime-based comedy within the same setting, so he passed it over to Armitage, whom he’d known since they’d both worked for Corman decades ago. Armitage immediately loved the novel and was also offered the job of writing the screenplay, to which he enthusiastically agreed.

Author Charles Willeford’s source text was the first of four novels involving Sgt Hoke Moseley; this character—and his stories—would prove to be quite popular following their time of publication during 1984-88. The success of these books was perhaps not that surprising, considering Willeford had earned himself a Master’s Degree in English at the University of Miami back in 1964. During this time, he was working as an editor with Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, and then became a book reviewer for the Miami Herald for many years.

Throughout his career, Willeford proved himself to be quite a prolific author: penning many other novels from as far back as the 1950s, as well as poetry, short stories and non-fiction. Considering both writer and director’s background, and penchant for not sticking to one particular genre or style, it’s fair to say that this creative pairing was indeed a happy accident, with the result being suitably unconventional… and, well, basically bat-shit crazy!

Along with these top-notch creative forces working behind the camera, a special mention must also go to cinematographer Tak Fujimoto who perfectly captures the sun-drenched Miami in all its glory: injecting a colourful hue to the proceedings that acts as a kind of bizarre aesthetic contrast to the dark comedic tone. Fujimoto had quite the career, lending his talents to such hit films as The Silence of the Lambs (1991) and The Sixth Sense (1999).

Naturally, the talent in front of the lens does an awful lot of the heavy lifting here, too. By this point in time, Alec Baldwin was already a rising star thanks to films like Beetlejuice (1988) and the aforementioned Married to the Mob. Just before Miami Blues, Baldwin had starred in The Hunt for Red October (1990), which was by all accounts a conventional leading ‘good-guy’ part. His portrayal of Jack Ryan was reasonably well received, and it didn’t do his career any harm, but I would wager his role as Junior was a lot more fun for the actor, for one thing, it gave him something entirely different to do: the chance to play an all-American sociopath. And he knocks it out of the park.

As Junior, Alec Baldwin is magnetic. His slick charm and bold confidence make him surprisingly likeable—even as he impersonates a police officer, robs innocent people, and commits murder without flinching. There’s a strange innocence to his delusions, as though he truly believes he can build a happily-ever-after with Susie while continuing his crime spree across Miami. What stands out most is how Baldwin expertly walks the line between menace and humour. Junior isn’t your typical cinematic villain; he’s not cool, collected, or cunning. He’s impulsive, chaotic, egotistical, and often hilariously incompetent. Yet Baldwin’s performance keeps him compelling. Whether he’s sweet-talking Susie or faking police authority with wide-eyed glee, Baldwin brings a chaotic energy to every scene. It’s a performance that feels both grounded and completely unhinged—perfectly mirroring the film around him.

Speaking of compelling, Jennifer Jason Leigh gives Miami Blues much of its heart as Susie. It would’ve been easy to play her as a dim-witted sidekick or a damsel in distress, but Leigh goes for the harder option. Known even then for her fearless roles in edgy fare like Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982) and Last Exit to Brooklyn (1989), Leigh brings real humanity to a character where other lesser actors would simply have opted for a stereotypical, one-dimensional performance. Susie is optimistic, romantic, while also managing to be sweetly innocent and trusting—but she’s not stupid. She wants something better from life, and when Junior promises it, she grabs on. Leigh’s performance captures that vulnerability beautifully.

Then there’s Fred Ward as Moseley, delivering a wonderfully grounded, world-weary performance. Best remembered for cult favourites like The Right Stuff (1983) and Tremors (1990), Ward plays the no-nonsense detective with a mix of dry humour and understated gravitas. With his oversized dentures and perpetually unimpressed demeanour, Moseley is the steady counterbalance to Junior’s mania. He’s not a flashy hero, just a tired copper trying to do his job in a world that’s gone crazy. It’s a subtle portrayal, but crucial to the film’s tonal balance. Ward’s deadpan delivery is comedy gold. One scene that comes to mind is when a fellow detective has been trying to contact him at the station: “I’ve been calling you, you’ve got someone there to answer?” Moseley replies: “Yeah, but he’s deaf!”

When Miami Blues first hit cinemas, the reaction was mixed. Some critics embraced its oddball energy and standout performances; others weren’t quite sure what to make of it. It didn’t make a huge splash commercially. It only made $9.9M in North America, not even covering its $11M budget. However, over time, the film has developed some traction and cult appeal amongst cinephiles, and it’s easy to see why because it boasts a genre-blurring tone, razor-sharp acting, and straight-up weird spirit.

Watching it again for the first time in 30 years, I can honestly say it holds up remarkably well. Yes, there are pacing issues, and at times the tonal shifts may not feel completely successful, but it really has a unique charm, and what shines throughout is the strength of the direction and performances. And while this is as much a showcase for the brilliant actors, full kudos first has to go to the director. Where other filmmakers might have tried to clarify the genre (turning it into a straight thriller or a broader comedy), Armitage leans into the ambiguity. The result is a film with chaos embedded into its DNA: one moment there’s a shootout, the next a quiet dinner scene. You’re never quite sure how to feel, and that’s the point.

Looking at Armitage’s following film, Grosse Pointe Blank (1997), one can see very strong parallels with the deadpan comedy and violence, but whereas that was more playful and laugh-out-loud funny, here there’s a real mean streak at play. So, be warned, this may not be to everyone’s taste, for it is one genuinely odd film, not like a surreal David Lynch piece, think something closer to a bizarre Elmore Leonard yarn and you’re on the right track. It doesn’t fit neatly into any category, and that’s exactly what makes it so memorable.

USA | 1990 | 97 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

director: George Armitage.
writer: George Armitage (based on the book by Charles Willeford).
starring: Alec Baldwin, Fred Ward, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Charles Napier, Nora Dunn, Obba Babatundé, Shirley Stoler & Paul Gleason.