The Tomatometer rating – based on the published opinions of hundreds of film and
television critics – is a trusted measurement of movie and TV programming quality
for millions of moviegoers. It represents the percentage of professional critic reviews
that are positive for a given film or television show.
From the Critics
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The Tomatometer is 60% or higher.
The Tomatometer is 59% or lower.
Movies and TV shows are Certified Fresh with a steady Tomatometer of 75% or
higher after a set amount of reviews (80 for wide-release movies, 40 for
limited-release movies, 20 for TV shows), including 5 reviews from Top Critics.
Percentage of users who rate a movie or TV show positively.
Well-reputed for his "extreme" cinematic personifications in multiple genres, the American character player Peter Boyle doubtless made his onscreen personas doubly intense by pulling directly from his own personal journey to the top -- a wild, unlikely, and occasionally tortuous trek that found Boyle aggressively defining and redefining himself, and struggling constantly with a number of inner demons. Born October 18, 1935, in the hamlet of Northtown, PA, Boyle graduated from La Salle College and joined the Christian Brothers monastic order, under the name "Brother Francis." He prayed endlessly and earnestly until he developed callouses on his knees, but could never quite adjust to the monastic life, which he later declared "unnatural," with its impositions of fasting and celibacy. Dissatisfied, Boyle dropped out and headed for the Navy, but his brief enlistment ended in a nervous breakdown. With no other options in sight that piqued his interest, Boyle opted to pack his bags and head for New York City, where he worked toward making it as an actor. It made perfect sense that Boyle -- with his distinctively stocky frame, bald pate, oversized ears, and bulbous nose -- would fit the bill as a character actor -- more ideally, in fact, than any of his contemporaries on the American screen. He trained under the best of the best -- the legendary dramatic coach Uta Hagen -- while working at any and every odd job he could find. Boyle soon joined a touring production of Neil Simon's Odd Couple (as Oscar Madison) and moved to Chicago, where he signed on with the sketch comedy troupe The Second City -- then in its infancy. Around 1968, Haskell Wexler -- one of the most politically radical mainstream filmmakers in all of Los Angeles (a bona fide revolutionary) -- decided to shoot his groundbreaking epic Medium Cool in the Windy City, and for a pivotal and notorious sequence, mixed documentary and fictional elements by sending the members of his cast (Verna Bloom and others) "right into the fray" of the 1968 Democratic National Convention riots. Boyle happened to still be living in Chicago at the time of the tumult, which dovetailed rather neatly with Wexler's production and brought Boyle one of his first credited Hollywood roles -- that of the Gun Clinic Manager in the film. Unfortunately (and typically), Paramount cowed when faced with the final cut of the film -- terrified that it could incite riots among its youthful audience -- and withheld its distribution for a year. In the interim, Boyle landed the role that would help him "break through" to the American public -- the lead in neophyte writer-director John G. Avildsen's harrowing vigilante drama Joe (1970). The film casts Boyle as a skin-crawling redneck and bigot who wheedles an Arrow-collared businessman (Dennis Patrick) into helping him undertake an onslaught of death against the American counterculture. This sleeper hit received only fair reviews from critics (and has dated terribly), and Boyle reputedly was paid only 3,000 dollars for his contribution. But even those who detested the film lavished praise onto the actor's work -- in 1970, Variety called the picture "flawed" but described Boyle as "stunningly effective." Film historians continue to exalt the performance to this day. Innumerable roles followed for Boyle throughout the '70s, many in a similar vein -- from that of Dillon, the slimy underworld "friend" who betrays career criminal Robert Mitchum by handing him over to death's jaws in Peter Yates' finely-wrought gangster drama The Friends of Eddie Coyle, to that of Wizard, a veteran cabbie with a terrifying degree of "seen it all, done it all" jadedness, in Martin Scorsese's masterful neo-noir meditation on urban psychosis, Taxi Driver (1976), to Andy Mast, a sleazy private dick, in Paul Schrader's Hardcore (1979). In 1974, however, Boyle broke free from his pattern of creepy typecasting and temporarily turned a new leaf. He unveiled a def
You don't write any postcards when you're on the road to self-discovery.
You're a dead man.
It ain't Bertrand Russlle but what do ya want? I'm a cabdriver...I don't even know what the fuck you're talking about!
Old Man Wickles:
Darn bushes yowling at me again...
Look at it this way. A man takes a job, you know? And that job - I mean, like that - That becomes what he is. You know, like - You do a thing and that's what you are. Like I've been a cabbie for thirteen years. Ten years at night. I still don't own my own cab. You know why? Because I don't want to. That must be what I want. To be on the night shift drivin' somebody else's cab. You understand? I mean, you become - You get a job, you become the job. One guy lives in Brooklyn. One guy lives in Sutton Place. You got a lawyer. Another guy's a doctor. Another guy dies. Another guy gets well. People are born, y'know? I envy you, your youth. Go on, get laid, get drunk. Do anything. You got no choice, anyway. I mean, we're all fucked. More or less, ya know.
I don't know. That's about the dumbest thing I ever heard.