Made Like He Was: Revisiting Jason Patric in 'After Dark, My Sweet'
The 1990 neo-noir thriller still packs a sweaty, grimy punch
August 6, 2026
Last night, I caught a screening of the 1990 noir film After Dark, My Sweet, directed by the late James Foley. [SPOILERS AHEAD] Held at the Roxy Cinema, it was presented by its star, Jason Patric, still foxy as ever at 60 and happily sharing with us his personal 35mm print.
I ran into Jason outside and he told me emphatically, “You will love it,” while graciously posing for a selfie. I did, actually. It’s a bewitching film. I kept thinking how interesting it is that Foley directed a modern version of a screwball ‘30s comedy in Who’s That Girl (1987) and then directed a modern version of a noir ‘50s film right after. I think he was more successful with this one, buoyed by Patric’s mesmerizing performance and a relentlessly exhausted-by-life tone that rang so true to the characters.
In the film, a beaten-down boxer, Kid Collins (Patric), stumbles into a kidnap plot, lured by a shady lady (Rachel Ward at her hottest) and her transparently self-motivated older cohort (Bruce Dern at his sleaziest). Set up to kidnap a little boy who is the heir to a family fortune, Collins, in spite of reading as having a screw loose, manages to stay a step ahead of his scheming partners — right to the tragic end.
There is a deliciously feral gay doctor in the film who longs to keep Collins as his houseboy, a set-up Collins realizes is not … a good fit. But the doc (George Dickerson) is portrayed as nakedly in love with his boxer boy in a way that is mirrored by a more chaste kind of love for Collins expressed by the little boy (James Cotton), who obviously has no affection at home. In this way, Collins — who has carnality and a violent streak — is portrayed as almost pure, magnetic, and certain to die young, stay pretty.
It is a fantastic and beautifully shot film, but the experience was marred (or perhaps even enhanced?) by a loopy woman who talked throughout (NEVER have I heard so many patrons scream, “Fuck you! Stop talking! You suck!” to a gabber) and then rushed to the front row to interrupt the Q&A. She was finally escorted out, but did so only after guilting Jason into signing her book. He handled it extremely well, with dry humor and restraint.
He answered my question about the creepy doctor delicately, too; it was clear he didn’t want to dunk on the doc for being gay and horny, and as he talked about him, I realized how the doctor’s manner of death (his radio obituary goes out of its way to call him a 50-year-old bachelor) was a metaphor for the star-crossed feelings in his … heart.
At any rate, it’s a film you should catch if you haven’t. As Jason told IndieWire:
“Look at your favorite actors, whoever they are. I don’t care if they had 40-year careers, there are only six movies you really talk about. And you know when one of those is coming along.”
Along with seeing a pristine print, I’m geeked I got to meet Jason, the star of The Lost Boys, which is on my list of “Films I Have Seen at Least 20 Times.” He is Hexum-level beautiful, and I think After Dark, My Sweet has to be his most complex and absorbing role and performance. And he was only 23!
Tonight’s screening at the Roxy — with Neil LaBute moderating — is sold out.