DVD of the Week: Blow Out: Criterion Collection

Time has been kind to Brian De Palma and his films. When he rose to prominence and made some of his most memorable films in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, the director was criticized for making schlocky horror films (The Fury) and, most damning of all, accused of being a Hitchcock wannabe (Dressed to Kill). Blow Out (1981) was no different as his detractors regarded it as a rip-off of Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow Up (1966), which had already been Americanized, to a certain degree, by Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversation (1974) to great acclaim. Blow Out also came out at the tail-end of the paranoid conspiracy thriller subgenre that flourished in the ‘70s thanks to the Watergate scandal with the likes of The Parallax View (1974) and aforementioned Coppola film.

De Palma was seen as crashing the party late and continuing his infatuation with Hitchcock. Ardent De Palma supporter Pauline Kael gave Blow Out a glowing review and proclaimed it as his best film yet. Time has been kind to the film and it is now widely regarded as one of his very best, counting Quentin Tarantino among its most passionate admirers. The Criterion Collection has given the film their deluxe treatment by producing an impressive new transfer and several fascinating extras that will be pure catnip to De Palma’s fans.

In a sly reference to some of the horror films he made in the past, De Palma starts Blow Out with a film within a film – a low budget slasher film with the requisite T&A and blood that also utilizes an impressive Steadicam technique that cheekily thumbs it nose at John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978). Jack Terry (John Travolta) is a smart sound-effects technician wasting his talents on schlock like Co-Ed Frenzy. The film’s director is unimpressed with the stock library sounds being used and tells Jack to go out and create some better ones.

Later that night, Jack is out recording sounds and witnesses what appears to be a car accident. A tire blow out causes the car to crash into a nearby creek. Jack leaps into action and is able to rescue a woman from the submerged vehicle. Her companion is not so lucky. It turns out that he’s Governor George McRyan, a Presidential hopeful and she is Sally (Nancy Allen), a prostitute seemingly in the wrong place at the wrong time. After Jack finds out that it was McRyan who died, he goes over the sounds he recorded that night and realizes that the governor didn’t die by accident – someone shot out the tire of his car and caused it to crash. With Sally’s help, Jack uncovers a conspiracy to kill McRyan. The only problem is that the same person that killed him also wants to cover their tracks and this involves eliminating loose ends like Sally. Enter Burke (John Lithgow), a sociopathic assassin who goes after her.

So many of De Palma’s films feature obsessive protagonists – think of Craig Wasson’s B-actor in Body Double (1984) obsessed with the murder he witnessed, or lawman Eliot Ness in The Untouchables (1987), determined to bring Al Capone to justice. Blow Out’s Jack gets so caught up in McRyan’s murder that he assembles his own Zapruder film by syncing his audio with stills taken by a low-rent photographer (played with sleazy charm by Dennis Franz). This film is a potent reminder of just how great an actor John Travolta used to be. With Saturday Night Fever (1978), Urban Cowboy (1980), and Blow Out, he had a fantastic run of playing fascinating, fully-developed yet flawed characters. And then something happened – maybe it was the debacle that was Staying Alive (1983) – and he started playing it safe, appearing in trivial commercial fare. He’s so good in Blow Out as an expert sound-man with a troubled past. De Palma’s screenplay does an excellent job of providing the motivation for Jack’s actions and Travolta’s natural charisma gets us to care about what happens to him.

De Palma pulls out all of his stylistic tricks (Steadicam shots, split screens, deep focus photography) to craft one hell of an engrossing thriller. This includes an exciting car chase through the busy downtown streets of Philadelphia during a Liberty Day celebration. He grew up in the city and utilizes key locations for maximum effect so that it is almost a character unto itself. Blow Out really is one of the best examples of De Palma’s genre sensibilities merging with his artistic aspirations. The end result is one of his signature films.

Special Features:

Fans of this film can finally get rid of the bare bones edition that was released years ago. In addition to the extras on the DVD, the accompanying booklet features Pauline Kael’s original review and a reproduction of the magazine in the film that published the photographs of McRyan’s car crash among several other goodies.

“Noah Baumbach Interviews Brian De Palma” features the New York filmmaker talking to De Palma for almost an hour. He talks about the genesis of Blow Out. He also touches upon using the Steadicam for the first time, the film’s score, various key scenes, and recounts some fantastic filming anecdotes in this excellent conversation between two filmmakers.

“Nancy Allen Interview” features the veteran actress talking about meeting Travolta for the first time on Carrie (1976) and her impressions of him. She recalls her initial reaction to the script for Blow Out and how she approached her character. Interestingly, Allen wasn’t going to do the film but Travolta wanted her to do it.

“Garrett Brown Interview” features the inventor of the Steadicam system recalling how he shot the cheesy horror film at the beginning of Blow Out. He also talks about and demonstrates how one works. Brown comes across as an engaging and candid guy.

“Louis Goldman Photographs” is a collection of stills taken on the set and for publicity purposes.

In a real treat for De Palma fans, his 1967 experimental film Murder a la Mod is included in its entirety. Like Blow Out, the film is a thriller that takes place in the filmmaking world. It is interesting to see the director’s emerging style still in its infancy and how the film is very much of its time.

Finally, there is a theatrical trailer.

 

Mook Musicals: Mean Streets/Saturday Night Fever

BLOGGER'S NOTE: This post is part of the Double Bill-a-Thon being coordinated by Gautam Valluri at Broken Projector.

In their own way, Martin Scorsese’s Mean Streets (1973) and John Badham’s Saturday Night Fever (1977) are gritty musicals set in and around New York City. Both films take the notion of the American success story and reduce it to almost nothing. The characters that inhabit these films are small-time hustlers and punks with no real direction in life and no future.

Set in "Little Italy," Scorsese’s film introduces us to most of the main characters in the opening moments of the film. Each one is given his own little scene in order to showcase his distinct character-defining obsession. We first meet Tony (David Proval), the order-obsessed owner of a local bar, as he throws out a junkie and then chastises his bouncer for his lack of initiative. Next, is Michael (Richard Romanus), a serious looking loan shark who ineptly tries to sell a man a shipment of German lens only to be told by the customer that they are actually Japanese adapters. This is followed by the explosive Johnny Boy (Robert De Niro), a happy-go-lucky punk who gleefully blows up a mailbox and then runs off. Finally, we meet the film's protagonist, Charlie (Harvey Keitel), an ambitious young man who is embroiled in conflict – both personal and external.

Charlie is torn between two worlds: the static isolation of his uncle's environment and the constricting chaos of Johnny Boy's lifestyle. He must make a choice between the two, while trying to exist in both. Conflict occurs when these two worlds inevitably collide and Charlie is left to pick up the pieces. This revisionist approach is in stark contrast to the traditional gangster film which almost always follows a curve that traces the criminal's rise and eventual fall. However, Scorsese disrupts this notion by having no rise and leaving the fall unresolved. The only thing that is truly alive and vital in the film is Scorsese's camera which dollies and tracks all over the place with incredible energy and enthusiasm that is truly infectious.

It was one of the few gangster films, at the time, to use a personal, almost home-movie view of its subjects. The settings and situations are so intimate and personal that you almost feel embarrassed, as if you are intruding on someone's actual life.

Harvey Keitel's strong performance is one of the many highlights of Mean Streets. He manages to convey the inner turmoil that threatens to consume Charlie's character as he struggles to save everyone around him and ends up saving no one. It is incredible to see how much energy Robert De Niro instills in Johnny Boy – the embodiment of the film's frenetic force. He is the unpredictable element in Charlie's otherwise, structured world. Whenever Johnny Boy is on-screen the camera mimics his furious pace that absolutely bristles with intensity. Scorsese reinforces this energy in an early scene where Johnny Boy enters Tony's bar to the strains of "Jumpin' Jack Flash" by the Rolling Stones. Even though the entrance is captured in a slow motion tracking shot, De Niro's character is so energetic that not even this technique can slow him down.

The characters inhabit a world of smoky, dimly-lit bars with an amazing classic rock soundtrack to compliment the proceedings. Scorsese's camera is restless and frantic as it moves in tight, narrow spaces that lead to dead ends. This is done to convey the destiny of the characters. They are full of energy, but are going nowhere in life. Scorsese also used a hand-held camera to create a jerky, off-balance effect that conveys the sensation of disorientation. There is no center of power. No other scene demonstrates this effect more than the famous pool hall brawl where Johnny Boy, Charlie, and Tony go to collect some money from the owner. A fight breaks out when Johnny Boy's bravado insults the owner. Scorsese uses a hand-held camera to convey the constant confusion of the fight. The camera darts and weaves all over the place seemingly in time with “Please Mr. Postman” by the Marvelettes. Scorsese follows one fight for a while before shifting to another brawl in an indiscriminate fashion. This effect raises the fight to a frightening level as the audience is drawn right into the middle of the pool hall melee and yet is offset by the music. The violence has no meaning or nobility and no one becomes a hero or succeeds as a result of using excessive force. After the pool hall fight is broken up, the conversation continues as if it never happened. The fight served no purpose and achieved no real end, except to enliven the characters' mundane existence for a few minutes. The camera, and by extension, the viewer enters the fracas, which creates a sense of danger not only for the characters but for the audience as well.

Saturday Night Fever also introduces its protagonist in an exciting and dynamic way as we see Tony Manero (John Travolta) strutting down the streets of Brooklyn, paint can in his hand to the strains of “Stayin' Alive” by the Bee Gees. He is a young man who works at a hardware store during the day but at night he hangs out with his buddies at the local dance club, 2001 Odyssey. Tony hopes to win the club’s dance contest but needs to find the right partner. At first, he teams up with Annette (Donna Pescow), a neighborhood girl who has a crush on Tony but whom he tells flat out that she’s not his “dream girl.” That would be Stephanie (Karen Lynn Gorney) whom Tony spots cutting a very impressive groove on the dance floor and later at the dance studio where he practices at.

Tony falls hard for her but she initially rebuffs his advances, interested only in dancing, getting out of Brooklyn, and living in Manhattan. Even though Tony is the king of his neighborhood, he wants out too because he’s tired of living at home (arguing constantly with his father) and sees that his friends (like Charlie’s in Mean Streets) have no future – they are going to spend the rest of their lives in their neighborhood. This is symbolized by the character of Bobby C (Barry Miller), the dumb one of Tony’s gang who has gotten his girlfriend pregnant and spends the film trying to figure out what he’s going to do about it. He tries asking for help but no one listens to him because they don’t take him seriously.

Saturday Night Fever is beautifully photographed, especially the dance club scenes with the garish reds and vibrant, atmospheric lighting (Christmas lights and disco balls) that is epitomized in the sequence where Tony struts his stuff on the dance floor while everyone watches admiringly. Director John Badham frames Travolta in long shots so that his entire body is visible and as a result there is no question that he’s really doing all that incredible dancing. Because Saturday Night Fever has been parodied many times over people forget what an amazing dancer Travolta was, but watching him cut loose to “You Should Be Dancing” is one of the best dance sequences ever put to film. The choreography is astounding and Travolta moves to the music perfectly. It is easy to see how this film transformed him into a cultural phenomenon. As his brother tells Tony, he’s exciting to watch. Truer words were never spoken.

The comradery between Tony and his buddies feels authentic much as it does between Charlie and his friends in Mean Streets. It really seems like they’ve been friends forever. They act like goofballs around each other but not to the point of caricature. It never feels false. This is exemplified in the scene where they go for burgers at White Castle with Stephanie and Double J (Paul Pape) makes a joke about Tony eating like a dog. Double J begins barking loudly freaking out the employees and other customers but it is funny as opposed to being threatening.

People often forget how gritty the film is. If Martin Scorsese ever directed a dance movie this would be it. Tony and his gang are a tough bunch of guys who aren’t above taking on a rival gang who jumped one of their own. It’s a chaotic, messy fight reminiscent of a similar skirmish in Mean Streets. In fact, it often feels like Tony and his buddies could exist in the same world only a few miles away.

The true test of a film’s staying power is if the characters still resonate years after you first saw it. This special quality is very subjective. When enough years pass any film will inevitably viewed through the lens of nostalgia, representing a specific time and a place that doesn’t exist anymore except in our memories. This is the power of cinema – to capture a moment in time forever and allow you to revisit again and again like an old friend. Mean Streets and Saturday Night Fever do this and that is why both have endured for over 30 years and will continue to do so.