Cohen is pretty goddamned erratic for an auteur. I mean, I don't think I've ever seen a movie with worse continuity; I don't think the constant lapses in screen direction are an homage to Godard; the character motivation is a mess. The newspaper headlines even have spelling mistakes for crying out loud. And every gruesome effort is made to avoid showing the titular winged serpent on screen. So why is this movie so cool? First of all, because it doesn't give a sh*t; second of all, because its subject matter takes us on an unprecedented and mesmerizing tour of the rooftops of NYC. And third of all because of that cast! I can't fling my stock epithet of 'stupid detectives' at Richard freakin' Roundtree and David by-the-Jesus Carradine, now can I? And I've never seen anything like Michael Moriarty's lead performance as a born-to-lose ex-junkie loudmouth opportunist with ego to burn. He's so mesmerizing you don't care about all the nervous cutting away from the sub-Harryhausen goings-on upstairs. In fact when you realize that Moriarty in Q equals Haze in Little Shop equals Miller in Bucket of Blood, the accretion of glaring imperfections starts to look like another form of loving tribute.
Review of Q: The Winged Serpent
