One of the most coke-induced movies to come out of the '80s (which is really saying something), the obvious appeal of To Live and Die in L.A. is that it's an unapologetically over-the-top thrill ride. The plot's a little convoluted for my liking, and there are a few irksome cliches thrown in, but, otherwise, this is nothing but action, sex, violence, betrayals, car chases, and Wang Chung. Everybody's having fun tonight!
If there's one aspect that seals the deal for me, though, it's the style. This thing's packed with neon lighting, synth-heavy music, and dingy atmospheres (kinda like if Wim Wenders tried to make a Michael Mann movie), and it's pretty much everything I could've hoped to find in a thriller from this era. I guess you could make the argument that these flashier elements are somewhat at odds with the gritty cop story, but it works for me because Friedkin simply refuses to tone anything down. Now, the "Popeye" Doyle-style protagonist is even more unhinged, and the action's a whole lot bloodier, so the excesses are popping at equal levels.
As you've no doubt already learned about me, that's the kind of decadence and consistency that I find hard to resist.
Grade: A