Alright, settle in, grab your Jolt Cola (or maybe something stronger these days), and let's talk about a little slice of late-90s mayhem that probably hit your VCR like a stun grenade back in the day: Skip Woods' directorial debut, Thursday (1998). This wasn't the kind of movie you saw advertised during prime time; this was the tape with the intriguing cover you might have grabbed on a whim down at Blockbuster, maybe intrigued by a familiar face or just looking for something with a bit of an edge. And boy, did Thursday deliver edge – jagged, blood-soaked, and darkly funny.
It kicks off feeling almost deceptive. We meet Casey Wells, played by a pre-Punisher Thomas Jane, living the suburban dream – nice house, loving wife, respectable job as an architect in Houston. He seems to have put his shadowy past behind him. But then, like a bad penny dipped in cocaine, his old partner-in-crime Nick (Aaron Eckhart, radiating sleaze long before Harvey Dent) shows up unannounced. What follows is less a friendly reunion and more the ignition sequence for a day spiraling violently, hilariously, and shockingly out of control, all thanks to a suitcase full of heroin Nick conveniently leaves behind. Remember how jarring that shift felt? One minute it's domestic bliss, the next it's sheer panic and impending doom.
When Tuesday Weld Met Quentin Tarantino
Thursday is pure, uncut 90s indie crime wave. You can feel the echoes of Pulp Fiction and True Romance bouncing off the walls, but writer-director Skip Woods cranks the amplifier way past eleven, injecting a manic energy and a mean streak that feels uniquely its own. Woods, who would later pen scripts for bigger budget action flicks like Swordfish and A Good Day to Die Hard, clearly cut his teeth here crafting dialogue that snaps and crackles, often veering into absurdity right before (or during) moments of intense violence. It’s a balancing act that doesn’t always land perfectly, but when it does, it’s exhilarating in that slightly unhinged, late-night movie way. Shot on a lean budget (reportedly around $2.5 million), the film has that raw, almost desperate energy that often fueled the best indie flicks of the era. You can feel the constraints pushing the creativity.
A Cavalcade of Chaos
What really makes Thursday pop is its gallery of rogues, each more memorable and dangerous than the last. Aaron Eckhart is fantastic as the catalyst Nick, charming and utterly amoral. Then there's Paulina Porizkova as Dallas, Nick's deadly associate. Forget the supermodel image; she delivers a performance that’s cold, calculating, and surprisingly physical. Her arrival truly signals that Casey's day has gone from bad to catastrophic. Watching her calmly navigate the escalating insanity was one of the film's genuine surprises. I recall hearing she actively pursued the role, wanting to break away from typecasting, and she certainly makes an impact.
And who could forget Mickey Rourke? Showing up for basically one extended, instantly iconic scene as the supremely corrupt Detective Kasarov, Rourke steals the entire movie for about ten minutes. It was part of that mid-90s Rourke resurgence, and he leans into the character's depravity with a theatrical flair that’s both terrifying and darkly comic. Supporting players like James LeGros as a hapless hitman and Glenn Plummer as Nick's ill-fated buddy also add distinct flavors to the bloody stew.
That Glorious, Grimy Practicality
Let's talk about the violence, because Thursday doesn't shy away. This isn't the slick, often weightless action of today. When things get messy here, they get messy. The practical effects, while perhaps looking a bit dated now, had a visceral punch back then. Gunshots felt impactful, messy, and consequential. Remember how real those squib hits looked on a fuzzy CRT screen? There's a scene involving a certain kitchen appliance that probably made more than a few jaws drop. Woods doesn't use violence just for shock value (though there's plenty of that); it feels baked into the film's cynical worldview, a sudden, brutal punctuation mark in conversations that twist in unexpected directions. It’s raw, it’s often unpleasant, but it felt undeniably physical in a way that CGI struggles to replicate.
The film wasn't a box office smash, finding its audience, like so many cult favorites, on home video. Critics were divided – some appreciated its audacity and dark humor, while others found it derivative or overly nihilistic. But for those of us trawling the video store shelves for something different, Thursday was a jolt, a hyper-caffeinated dose of neo-noir attitude that stuck with you. Watching it again now definitely highlights its 90s DNA – the dialogue tics, the fashion, the very specific brand of cool cynicism – but it still packs a punch. Thomas Jane holds the chaotic center effectively as the everyman desperately trying (and often failing) to regain control, his mounting panic palpable.
Final Verdict
Thursday is a time capsule of late-90s indie filmmaking ambition – loud, violent, stylish, and brimming with dark humor. It’s a movie that wears its influences on its sleeve but throws them into a blender with enough unique energy and memorable performances to stand on its own ragged merits. It’s not subtle, and it’s certainly not for everyone, but it captures that specific, exhilarating feeling of discovering something truly wild on VHS.
Rating: 7.5 / 10
Justification: While sometimes derivative and uneven, Thursday delivers unforgettable characters (Rourke! Porizkova!), crackling dialogue, and genuinely shocking moments fueled by raw, practical effects. It's a prime example of the edgy energy bubbling under the surface of mainstream 90s cinema, elevated by strong performances from a cast hitting their stride. The low budget feel adds to its charm rather than detracting significantly.
VHS Heaven Rewind Thought: It's the cinematic equivalent of finding a unlabeled mixtape from '98 – maybe a little rough, definitely loud, but undeniably cool and guaranteed to wake you up. Still kicks like a mule.