7. Phil Collins
Phil Collins music proved to be a perfect match for the strange groove of Michael Mann‘s Miami Vice, as well as the general aesthetic of the 80s. Even American Psycho, Mary Harron’s brilliant send-up of the decade, Collins is included in the serial killer lead’s pantheon of terrible music.
He appeared in an episode of Miami Vice as the lead antagonist as a British television personality who has connections to a local cocaine dealer in Florida. At best, his performance can be called “silly.” Collin’s film work has received some slight praise, though most found him to be middling in his lead title role inBuster, a film about one of the men involved in The Great Train Robbery of 1963.
The film probably would have sunk into further obscurity had it not caused a stir in England after Prince Charles and the late Diana boycotted it due to what they considered glorification of crime. Beyond voice work, Collins has since limited his appearances in film to cameos. Best to stay that way.
6. Bob Dylan
Bob Dylan‘s first film role was as the mostly silent, murderous cowboy in Sam Peckinpah’s under-appreciated Western Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid.
It doesn’t help that Dylan is onscreen next to a musician Kris Kristofferson, whose acting career is prolific and impressive. But since his entire persona has always carried with it numerous unanswered questions and contradictions, perhaps casting the sandpaper-voiced singer as a mostly mute sociopath was masterstroke.
In the 80s, Dylan “starred” in Hearts of Fire, which is to say he lingers around the edges of a standard story of a young girl (played by 80s kinda-been Fiona Flanagan) who yearns for stardom. He mumbles, plays about four songs, but most of the film focuses on Flanagan and Rupert Everett‘s blooming romance. Interestingly, it was the final film of director Richard Marquand, who previously helmed Return of the Jedi. It was also an early screenwriting credit for Showgirls and Basic Instinct scribe Joe Eszterhas. Hearts was rushed out of theatres and quickly forgotten.
Then there’s Masked and Anonymous, Larry Charles (Borat, Religulous) and Bob Dylan’s nonsensical collaboration that attracted every actor of the baby boomer generation exclusively because it meant spending time with the music legend. As usual, Dylan is laconic with what dialogue he has, and he doesn’t seem at all invested. He’s downright boring, and so it the mishmash of ideas that work much better as song lyrics.
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