Drive-In Dust Offs: Q: THE WINGED SERPENT (1982)

Larry Cohen: Party of One. That’s the way I see him, anyway; he’s always made the films he’s wanted, the way he’s wanted – with varying results, sure, but at the end of the day they are nothing less than Larry Cohen Films: unique, challenging, quirky, funny, and almost always a blast to watch. Which brings us to Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), his tribute to the AIP monster movies of days gone by, overshadowed by his patented blend of offbeat characters and intriguing dialogue. The flying lizard? Merely a delightful distraction.

Released by United Film Distribution Company (and co-produced by legendary AIP honcho Samuel Z. Arkoff) in late October, Q returned only a quarter of its $1.2 million budget, but reviews were fairly kind, with most critics singling out not the movie itself, per se, but a wonderful turn by Michael Moriarty (A Return to Salem’s Lot) as small time crook Jimmy Quinn. The box office may have let Q down, but it still takes flight on wings of a very specific fancy. Most audiences have always been a few steps behind Cohen and his peculiar charms, with a few brave and smart souls clinging on tight wherever he takes them. He’s always worth the ride.

Welcome to NYC, and have pity on poor Jimmy Quinn; broke, in a tenuous relationship with his girlfriend Joan (Candy Clark – The Blob), and desperate for cash, he takes a job as a wheelman for a jewel heist. When things go sideways, he ends up finding a giant nest tucked away in the upper recesses of the Chrysler Building. It just so happens that this nest belongs to one Quetzalcoatl, the Aztec god whose winged lizard form is causing a sudden shortage of rooftop sunbathers (topless, natch) and whiny construction workers. Meanwhile, detectives Shepard (David Carradine – Detention) and Powell (Richard Roundtree – Earthquake) are investigating a series of ritualistic murders and are at a loss as to who the killer is. Could there be a connection between the rooftop attacks and the murders? Jimmy has a strong hunch there is, and is willing to help the police…for a price.

Q is a film of adjacency; two Q’s moving side by side, one on the ground and one in the sky, each with their own agendas, both working on instinct. Q1 (Quinn) is hustling to survive and thrive in a world that’s passed him by, often of his own accord; Q2 (Quetzalcoatl) scrounges for food with the random ferocity of a starving patron at a five dollar buffet. Subtlety holds no truck here, as is often the case with several of Cohen’s films – and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. After all, this is a film with a stop motion dragon flying above the city looking for prey, swooping down to claim her next victim before disappearing amongst the clouds. A chamber piece, this is not.

Ambition has always been the double edged sword of Cohen’s career. High concept is where he’s always lived, but without the resources many have viewed his work through cracked lenses; only seeing the visible lines that they feel obscure what he’s trying to say. But the beauty of his work lies with and within the imperfections; this is a lens that demands your full attention. Q’s particular ambition, however, has way more to do with character than its Aztec in New York angle.

While the Q2 storyline is an enjoyably garish tribute to AIP’s monster movie output, the real meat at the altar belongs to Jimmy and his journey towards personal redemption. Quinn, as played by Moriarty, is a twitching mass of frayed nerves and flawed aim, a lowly criminal who never rose past the first rung on the ladder of life but not for lack of effort. One big break and he could make it, one more stab at greatness that always ends with fumbling in the darkness.

This is Jimmy’s lot in life; two-bit is the only currency he holds, and as played beautifully with a spastic, manic grace by Moriarty, is the only one he will. You see, the way Cohen has written him, Jimmy is…kind of a dick. Scratch that, he’s a major prick with a huge chip on his shoulder for everyone, including Clark in a sweet performance as Joan. Filled with bile at the system that sent him away (drugs were planted, he says, and again Cohen’s sharp ear fills the viewer with an ambiguity that would have been written out in the studio system), Jimmy’s desperation fuels his every thought and action.

This is what really sets Q apart; yes, Cohen never forgets to lather on the B-movie butter, and here there be dragons – decapitations and other ghoulish touches showcase the showman lurking within the social commentator. But that’s not even his game here; there is no take on consumerism ala The Stuff (1985) or the religious hysteria that permeates God Told Me To (1976) – Q, ultimately, is a singular tale of a solitary, irredeemable man.

Regardless of a lack of trenchant commentary, Q is filled with Cohen trademarks – odd, off the cuff dialogue and richly drawn denizens from every corner of the room, if not the world. Carradine and Roundtree make a good pair, the former especially winning with a relaxed take on the weary cop who’s seen it all. (Well, almost all.)

But Moriarty is justifiably the center of attention; riffing off the other actors, filling in the notes much as Jimmy does playing piano, lost in the music as the only grace note of a punched down life. And just as Jimmy is oblivious to everything but his music and his failures, the viewer is so lost in Moriarty’s brilliance that we don’t see the lizard snatch us until it’s too late. Come for the Quetzalcoatl, stay for the Quinn. Either way, you’ll come up a bigger winner than Jimmy could ever dream to be.

Q: The Winged Serpent is available on Blu-ray from Scream Factory.