Author: BRWC

  • William Friedkin (1935-2023) Career Retrospective

    William Friedkin (1935-2023) Career Retrospective

    William Friedkin (1935-2023) Career Retrospective. By Simon Thompson.

    William Friedkin was one of the great iconoclasts in the history of American filmmaking, a director for whom the term “mad lad” would be a severe understatement. Friedkin took risks and constantly challenged himself artistically within a Hollywood landscape that, thanks to the collapse of the old studio system and the eroding of the Hays censorship code in the late 1960s, allowed writers and directors to freely express themselves for the first time in the history of American film. 

    The “New-Hollywood” era, as it would come to be known, was spearheaded by a group of young directors largely straight out of film school: Martin Scorsese; Francis Ford Coppola; Paul Schrader; Brian De Palma; Woody Allen; George Lucas; Steven Spielberg; John Milius; Bob Rafelson; Peter Bogdanovic; Arthur Penn; and John Cassavetes. What set the New Hollywood generation apart was its reverence for foreign films – and the fact that most of them had been trained in art schools rather than on the job, as previous generations had done.

    Even as a part of an artistic collective that didn’t exactly contain artistic shrinking violets, Friedkin’s work – in particular The French Connection (1971) and The Exorcist (1973) – still stands among the most revered and controversial American movies ever made. But what of his career after these two movies? What caused both Friedkin and his work to fall out of fashion over the next few decades?

    William Friedkin was born and brought up in Chicago to a family of modest means. Despite being a frequent movie-goer throughout his teens, it was only when he saw Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane (1941) for the first time at the age of 25 that Friedkin realised his true calling was to become a director. Influenced not only by Citizen Kane,but also by Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) and Henri Georges Clouzot’s Les Diaboliques (1955) and The Wages of Fear (1953) Friedkin started his career as a director working in documentary filmmaking and live TV, directing one of the last ever episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents (where apparently Alfred Hitchcock was irritated that Friedkin wouldn’t wear a tie whilst directing) and a documentary made for Chicago TV titled The People VS Paul Crump about a death row inmate. 

    Eventually Friedkin made his move to Hollywood in 1965, but his start in the bright lights of tinsel town could be described charitably as frustrating. Friedkin’s first Hollywood movie, a Sonny and Cher starring vehicle entitled Good Times (1965), was a bizarre satirical anthology of genre cinema that Friedkin would later go on to label as ‘unwatchable’ . Following Good Times, Friedkin’s next few projects The Birthday Party (1968), The Night They Raided Minsky’s (1968) and The Boys in a Band (1970)would all fly under the radar.

    In 1971 Friedkin would finally make the movie which would make him a critical and commercial household name, The French Connection, a film whose importance cannot possibly be overstated both in the context of Friedkin’s career but also American filmmaking as a whole. Budgeted at a modest $1.8 million The French Connection was a cynical, pessimistic look at law enforcement adapted from Robin Moore’s true-crime novel ‘The French Connection: The World’s Most Crucial Narcotics Investigation,’about a group of police officers trying to bring down the notorious and eponymous heroin-trafficking ring. 

    Ernest Tidyman’s screenplay changed several identities from Moore’s novel, re-naming the characters Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle and Buddy “Cloud” Russo so as to protect identities of their real-life counterparts’.Indeed, The French Connection was ground-breaking at the time for Friedkin’s blending of fiction and reality: he shot the film on location in New York, giving it a documentary-like sense of realism unseen in American crime cinema since The Asphalt Jungle (1950) or Gun Crazy (1951). The visuals also owe a debt to Friedkin’s documentary past, but it was his love of neo-realist cinema and specifically of Costa Garvas’s Z (1969) that helped him understand how to shoot The French Connection: 

    After I saw Z, I realized how I could shoot The French Connection. Because he shot Z like a documentary. It was a fiction film, but it was made like it was actually happening. Like the camera didn’t know what was gonna happen next. And that is an induced technique. It looks like he happened upon the scene and captured what was going on as you do in a documentary. My first films were documentaries too. So, I understood what he was doing but I never thought you could do that in a feature at that time until I saw Z. (Friedkin, 2013)

    The French Connection was a critical and commercial smash-hit, grossing $75 million dollars worldwide and being nominated for eight academy awards, winning five, including Best Picture and Best Director for Friedkin. After a modest start Friedkin had truly arrived in Hollywood- with awards and financial success to his name the future seemed to be very bright indeed. 

    Around the time The French Connection’s shoot was wrapping up, the option for William Peter Blatty’s 1971 horror novel The Exorcist was circulating around Hollywood studios. Warner Brothers had approached both Arthur Penn and Stanley Kubrick to bring Blatty’s novel to the big screen, but Blatty himself was a rabid fan of The French Connection and wanted a director who could “…bring the look of documentary realism to this incredible story” (Savlov,2000 p1). Luckily for both men, Friedkin was already enamoured with The Exorcist, going as far as to cancel dinner plans so he could spend an evening finishing the novel. 

    The shoot for The Exorcist (1973), though, would prove to be nearly as apocalyptic as that of Francis Ford Coppola’s notorious Vietnam war epic Apocalypse Now. First there was Friedkin’s insistence to Warner Bros on casting relative unknowns Ellen Burstyn and Linda Blair in the leading roles, then the budget would escalate all the way to $12 million dollars, as well as Friedkin’s hands-on directing style extending to him firing blanks at actor Jason Miller to get a genuine reaction out of him. The principal photography cycle saw the movie’s crew fluctuate between the scorching desert of Mosul in Iraq and in freezing cold refrigerated sets. Finally, an accident involving a bird and a circuit breaker burnt down large sections of the set, and various props were shipped to the wrong locations which contributed to the shooting schedule being delayed further.

    Nonetheless, The Exorcist was a roaring success. The movie’s controversial religious themes and graphic imagery generated public interest to the tune of a $428 million dollar profit. Thanks to its ground-breaking use of practical effects and makeup, chilling atmosphere, Jack Nitchze’s carefully crafted sound design, and Friedkin’s liberal application of viscera during the possession sequences, The Exorcist is widely considered a hallmark in horror. Friedkin gambled with a Hollywood studio’s time, money, and patience, and won, snatching a masterpiece from the jaws of a bloated shoot. The Exorcist managed to capture the cultural zeitgeist; with it, one of American cinema’s greatest uncompromising artists had a blank check to make whatever he wanted. 

    What Friedkin wanted was something called Sorcerer, a project that would take four years to see the light of day and that for better or worse would define the second half of Friedkin’s artistic career. His vision was an attempt at paying homage to one of his great heroes, Henri Georges Clouzot, and Clouzot’s movie The Wages of Fear (itself an adaptation of the Georges Arnaud novel of the same name). In part because Friedkin sensed that Sorcerer would define his legacy as a director, he underwent a filmmaking odyssey to make The Exorcist’s production look like a campfire singalong. It took Friedkin’s single-minded determination to see the shoot through – Sorcerer’s budget ballooned to $22 million (roughly $112 million in today’s money pushing it near the budgetary range of Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer) thanks in no small part to issues filming on-location in Mexico and the Dominican Republic, outbreaks of food poisoning and malaria, and technical difficulties with the special effects. 

    These included the fact that the dynamite which Friedkin ordered didn’t contain enough explosive power to blow up a tree, so he decided to hire a shady Dominican serial arsonist from New York going by the name of Marvin the Torch to get the job done. To make matters worse not only were the original prints of certain scenes too dark to see requiring extensive re-shoots in the Dominican jungle but Friedkin’s domineering personality meant that he fell out with the teamster’s union of truckers he’d hired for the movie and five separate production managers. Finally, Friedkin was tipped off by an undercover FBI agent that various crew members were in possession of illegal substances, and that the only option was for them was to leave the country to skip lengthy prison sentences, so Friedkin had to fire numerous important stuntmen, make-up artists, and key-grips. 

    The film was finally released in June of 1977. However, this turned out to be its greatest misfortune, as the previous month saw the release of a George Lucas film entitled Star Wars. That film’s overwhelming success signalled a sea change in American filmmaking. Gone were the days when serious, dark, intellectual movies like The French Connection or The Godfather dominated the box office; the age of the summer blockbuster, with its an emphasis on mass entertainment, had arrived. 

    So perhaps it’s unsurprising that Sorcerer was savaged by critics who held it in inferior regard to The Wages of Fear and was met with indifference at the box office, earning back only $9 million which is especially damning when compared to the original Star Wars which earned $775.8 million off an $11 million budget. Sorcerer was a measured adult thriller, which featured a cast mainly unknown to American audiences (besides Roy Schneider of course) a slow-burn elliptical narrative, and a truly dreadful marketing campaign by the studio all of which were instrumental in Sorcerer’s failure in re-capturing the box-office magic of Friedkin’s two previous movies.

    Critically Sorcerer was mauled upon its release. British critic Leslie Halliwell went as far to call Sorcerer an insult as well as saying “Why anyone would want to spend 20 million dollars on a remake of The Wages of Fear, do it badly, and give it a misleading title is anybody’s guess. The result is dire.” Some critics, such as Roger Ebert, praised Sorcerer labelling it an “overlooked masterpiece” on his show Sneak Previews, championing its mix of engrossing action and cerebral commentary on the nature of greed and desperation. Vincent Canby of The New York Times was another respected critic who praised Sorcerer calling it “a good little melodrama surrounded by some pulp” and praised Roy Schneider’s performance. Sadly, for Friedkin, critics were nowhere near as complimentary across the board as Ebert and Canby, which when coupled with the appalling marketing didn’t help the cause of Sorcerer at the box office.

    In the years since its release Sorcerer has gone on to be significantly re-appraised by critics and leading directors such as Tarantino, Edgar Wright, and Nicolas Winding Refn who have all publicly championed the movie as an underappreciated classic. Sorcerer was cursed both by the timing of its release and the scope of Friedkin’s artistic ambition, like the work of The Velvet Underground, or Radiohead’s album Kid A, or 2001 A Space Odyssey. The simple passage of time and critics examining it on its own merits rather than comparing it to Wages of Fear has allowed Sorcerer to be better appreciated than it was when it first came out.

    In the wider context of American cinema history Sorcerer represents one of the first chinks in the armour for the New Hollywood movement, as thanks to the movie’s out of control production and sizeable budget, it created a feeling amongst studio executives that high risk low reward was not a sustainable business plan. To blame Friedkin entirely for this realisation isn’t exactly fair, but there is a kind of unspoken belief amongst his detractors that Sorcerer and Friedkin himself are somehow culpable for other New-Hollywood era big budget flops such as Scorsese’s New York, New York (1977), Michael Cimino’s Heaven’s Gate (1980), and Coppola’s One From the Heart (1982) all of which tanked at the box office, thanks in no small part to the Star Wars effect. 

    Unlike some of his contemporaries such as Michael Cimino, Friedkin didn’t go away after Sorcerer, making a crime comedy titled The Brink’s Job one year later in 1978. Starring Peter Falk (aka Columbo himself), The Brink’s Job was a movie Friedkin was forced to make like a beaten dog by the Hollywood powers that be, to show he was still a director that could make something that was at least somewhat commercially viable. After the indignities of this forced studio filmmaking, Friedkin would follow up The Brinks Job two years later with one of his most brilliant yet controversial movies,the murder-mystery/slasher drama Cruising (1980) adapted from the novel of the same title by New York Times reporter Gerald Walker.

    If Sorcerer was the movie that marked Friedkin out as not to be trusted by studio bosses, then Cruising by comparison functioned as Friedkin’s Hollywood suicide note, the movie that in spite of its quality resulted in studios not wanting to piss on Friedkin even if he were on fire. A true crime thriller in the mould of The French Connection, Cruising focuses on a police detective named Steve Burns (played to perfection by Al Pacino) who goes under-cover into New York City’s leather scene on the trail of a serial killer who has been targeting gay men. 

    On the set problems included Friedkin consulting the mafia for access to the movie’s club locations and the fact that Friedkin’s relationship with his star Al Pacino could be diplomatically described as testy. Friedkin and Pacino fell out over the movie’s story/direction, and Friedkin in particular gained great disdain toward what he called Pacino’s ‘lack of professionalism’, to the extent that in interview about Cruising years later Friedkin would go on to say that he “… doesn’t give a flying fuck, into a rolling donut, about what Al Pacino thinks”. (Friedkin,2021)

    When shooting finally wrapped the movie was thrown into a firestorm of controversy from gay-rights groups who claimed the movie was homophobic and demeaning, with many prominent gay activist groups launching extensive protests leading to many cinemas in America limiting or outright stopping the distribution of Cruising. 

    Is Cruising homophobic? if you ask me it’s unfairly demonised, as the gay community in the movie, to me anyway, are portrayed as being likeable and wholly decent, in fact the straight cops are presented as being just as bad as the killer in that they don’t care or actively show disdain towards the issue and the LGBT community as a whole. Cruising of course has its flaws when portraying these issues as Friedkin himself has articulated:

    Cruising came out around a time that gay liberation had made enormous strides among the general public. It also came out around the same time that AIDS was given a name. I simply used the background of the S&M world to do a murder mystery; it was based on a real case. But the timing of it was difficult because of what had been happening to gay people. Of course, it was not really set in a gay world; it was the S&M world. But many critics who wrote for gay publications or the underground press felt that the film was not the best foot forward as far as gay liberation was concerned, and they were right. Now it’s re-evaluated as a film. It could be found wanting as a film, but it no longer has to undergo the stigma of being an anti-gay screed, which it never was.” (Ebiri,2013)

    Whereas controversy had been an ally of Friedkin before, with the release of Cruising it was actively working against him, as reflected by the critical mauling and multiple Razzie awards the movie received upon its release. However, like Sorcerer before it Cruising went on to be greatly re-valued over time with the directing duo the Safdie Bros namechecking it as a favourite of theirs and even academics such as Camille Paglia praising it’s “underground decadence”. (Adnum,2006)

    Post Cruising Friedkin’s career would wildly fluctuate, he’d constantly find himself between the fringe and the mainstream in a Hollywood that only wanted conformity and predictability. It’s a shame because post 1980 he would truly fascinate and compel with underappreciated gems such as To Live and Die in La (1985) and Rampage (1987), as well directing the 90s basketball star-studded time capsule Blue Chips (1994) featuring NBA legends Shaq and Penny Hardaway as the leads.

    It would be a disservice to mention Friedkin’s output circa 1990-2003 in the same breath as his work from 1971-1987, with most of the movies he made around this time being what I would charitably call interesting experiments that don’t quite land, for example Jade (1995) or The Hunted (2003). But from 2006 onwards Friedkin was making something of a late career come back with a return to his crime/horror roots with Bug (2006) and the fantastic Southern fried neo-noir Killer Joe (2011).

    Post 2011 Friedkin would continue to be an active public figure and was working on a new movie titled The Caine Mutiny- Court Martial scheduled for release this year. Sadly, Friedkin passed away in August 2023 from heart failure and pneumonia in his home in Los Angeles, California at the age of 87. He leaves behind his wife Sherry, his two sons Jackson and Cedric, and one of the more varied and important cinematic legacies in the history of American cinema.

    Sources:

  • Wish: The BRWC Review

    Wish: The BRWC Review

    Wish: The BRWC Review. By  Richard Schertzer.

    Disney can now congratulate themselves for creating some of the most amazing feature-length animated films for 100 years now and their work has really paid off for them. However, their latest film Wish does almost no favors for them in the slightest and seems like Disney just patting themselves on the back for their hard work.

    The story sees Asha as an ardent and ambitious who attempts to be the apprentice of King Magnifico in a struggle to grant her grandfathers’ wish as he is turning 100. Magnifico is the big cheese and the citizens of his city willingly give him their wishes and he holds onto them in case he decides to grant said wishes. As a result of doing this, the citizens forget about their wish once Magnifico is in possession of them.

    It certainly seems like an earnest plot and some ambitious themes, but that’s where the buck stops there as it is very self-evident that the Mouse House has completely run out of ideas as per their latest entry in animated films proves to be a rehash of older and better IP that tries to be a tribute to the legacy of Disney, but instead becomes a Frankenstein of a film that’s more disjointed than the monster itself.

    Moreover, the animation style is something that proves to be either very dazzling or very frustrating. Either be a 2D-animated film or a 3D-animated film, but you can’t be both, otherwise, it looks like a hybrid of a film and not a cohesive canvas that’s evenly spread out.

    What’s truly tragic is that this film had every opportunity to bring something new to the table at Disney, but it fell flat with maybe some mildly catchy songs that might provoke a hum or two. That’s not enough to downplay the childish humor, forced diversity and somewhat tone-deaf dialogue.

    All in all, this movie could have been a lot more than what it was worth, but it was almost as if it didn’t even try and only exists as a placeholder for Disney to say that we did this on our anniversary.

  • Ariel Back To Buenos Aires: Review

    Ariel Back To Buenos Aires: Review

    Ariel Back to Buenos Aires Review. By Simon Thompson

    Alison Murray’s Ariel Back to Buenos Aires is a Pedro Almodóvar- like tale which balances being a family drama alongside being a love-letter to the city of Buenos Aires itself. The plot sees two siblings named Dave (Raphael Grosz Harvey) and Diana (Cristina Rosata) returning to Argentina (their country of origin before moving to Canada) to find out about their family history and whether Dave was adopted or not. Along the way Diana becomes obsessed with learning to tango, as a method of escaping her miserable life and relationship back home in Canada, while Dave drinks himself into oblivion over his existential worries of not fitting in. 

    I would charitably describe the narrative of Ariel Back to Buenos Aires as a bit of a mess: the script struggles to balance both the family history plot with the tango one and although I see what Murray is trying to do with its inclusion it still serves as a slightly jarring distraction from the main narrative. What Murray has done here is present two perfectly good plots that could be entire movies on their own and tried to combine them to the overall detriment of this movie’s pacing.

    Visually, however, Ariel Back to Buenos Aires is absolutely stunning. Murray, alongside cinematographers Mat Barkley, Sergio Pinyero, and Rodrigo Pulperio really brings out the lush colours, the puppet shows, sounds, and architecture of Buenos Aires making the city feel like a character itself. If this movie doesn’t make you want to book a trip there instantly, clearly you need your eyes tested, because Murray and her assistants do such a good job capturing Buenos Aires it almost feels as if they’ve directed an exceptional tourism commercial.

    The acting in this movie is what I would call fairly solid: Cristiana Rosato and Raphael Grosz Harvey play off each other well and are believable as siblings, both in their bickering but also affection for one another. Their character development does feel rushed however, once again as a direct result of Murray’s attempt at combining two diverging plots. Aspects of their personalities/character arcs which could be plot-points in themselves are brought up and then either resolved far too quickly or just abandoned on the scrap pile, which is a shame because both the characters and the actors playing them are charismatic and watchable, especially as the movie progresses and the two come to find out more and more about their family history. 

    To conclude, Ariel Back to Buenos Aires is a well-directed and acted but poorly structured family drama. It does however have a lot to offer in terms of insight into Argentinian cultural history so if you’re willing to overlook its flawed narrative and a few pacing issues you’ll come out all the better informed about one of the more fascinating of the countries and cultures in South America.  

  • Wild Beauty: Mustang Spirit Of The West – Review

    Wild Beauty: Mustang Spirit Of The West – Review

    Wild Beauty: Mustang Spirit Of The West – Review. By Richard Schertzer.

    Everyone loves a good horse story, but unlike Black Beauty and Seabiscuit, Ashley Avis’ documentary takes a beautiful yet darker tone into the realm of wild stallions.

    Avis and her “family”-type crew embark on a journey in defense of wild horses. The filmmakers see the horses being dangerously herded and rounded up by helicopters and driven into small, claustrophobic enclosures thus giving the animals an increased sense of fear and anxiety.

    Avis is able to do so much with so little in her filmmaking style and reveals the true horror that these horses face with a magnificently filmed framework and some insightful themes that keep the audience interested.

    Her sensitive take on a very emotional topic is something that proves to be extremely noteworthy, as her cause is just and contrite. While many documentaries seem shallow, expose-like and self-indulgent, Avis has an unmitigated passion that shines from start to finish during the runtime of the film.

    Avis is able to take a triumphant stance without even trying and begins her career as a documentarian to be reckoned with. Getting involved with such a project with majestic creatures and powerful visual imagery is enough to make a change in society.

    It’s almost impossible to find any flaw in the film with such a well-crafted call to action that brings tears to the eyes as well as justice for horses everywhere. I certainly enjoyed this film and I’m sure you will, as well.

  • The Blob (1958): Review

    The Blob (1958): Review

    The Blob (1958): Review. By Joe Muldoon

    With a career consisting of performances in classics such as The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape, and Bullitt, there are few films in Steve McQueen’s career that have gone under the radar. Alas, nestled in amongst these hits, there’s the star’s first-ever leading role in perhaps the most delightfully ridiculous film of his career: The Blob.

    A meteorite crashes into a hill by a small Pennsylvania town. An old man stumbles upon the meteorite and wisely prods at it with a stick, causing it to break open and expel a strange amoebic Blob that attaches itself to his hand. The man is unable to rid himself of the form and staggers into the road, almost being run down by cruising teenage lovers Steve (McQueen) and Jane (Aneta Corsaut).

    The teens rush the man to a doctor who has him anaesthetised. Sending the couple back out to locate the crash site, the doctor is left with his new patient, horrified to see the Blob absorbing him. In the ensuing chaos following the consumption of the Blob’s first victim, a nurse is absorbed, the doctor suffering the same fate shortly thereafter.

    This is witnessed by a newly-returned Steve, who then flees the scene with Jane, the pair seeking help at the local police station. Their story is naturally dismissed as a youthful prank, the idea of an alien carnivorous goop being as ludicrous as 28-year-old McQueen passing for a teenage highschooler. The two set about warning the townsfolk of the impending danger, and so commences the Blob’s reign of terror.

    With the American film industry of the 1950s came a spate of science fiction features, many of which barely rose above middle-of-the-road drive-in popcorn flicks – against all the odds, The Blob somehow found itself a measure of success on the bill of a double-feature with I Married a Monster from Outer Space, eventually finding itself atop the bill.

    Compared to its undeniably brilliant contemporaries The Day the Earth Stood Still and The War of the Worlds, The Blob is a rather poor film. The acting is noticeably wooden (including McQueen’s performance, which gives little glimpse into the career he would go on to enjoy), the melodramatic filler arguably detracts from the story, and the titular Blob’s appearances are frankly scant. Yet, despite this, there’s something oddly charming about a schlocky B-movie premised upon a backwater town being terrorised by a roving glob of gelatinous death.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ti-uUsaQOc