Love that type treatment so much.

Love that type treatment so much.

Watching Warren Oates’ white suit get increasingly more dirty & foul throughout this hungover two-hour revelation is one of the most trying-yet-truly-revelatory passages of Peckinpah’s demanding career. I watch it every few years and have not found it any easier to get through over time. Roger Ebert astutely pointed out, “I think I can feel Sam Peckinpah’s heart beating and head pounding in every frame in Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974), a film he made during a period of alcoholic fear and trembling.”

Watching Warren Oates’ white suit get increasingly more dirty & foul throughout this hungover two-hour revelation is one of the most trying-yet-truly-revelatory passages of Peckinpah’s demanding career. I watch it every few years and have not found it any easier to get through over time. Roger Ebert astutely pointed out, “I think I can feel Sam Peckinpah’s heart beating and head pounding in every frame in Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974), a film he made during a period of alcoholic fear and trembling.”

…In the original release 20th Century-Fox decided to play up the sensational elements in The Panic in Needle Park, and to overlook the qualities that make this a special and sometimes extraordinary movie. The New York Times carried one of those public confession ads that apologize for the ads that have gone before. “Did our ads blow it for The Panic in Needle Park!” the studio says. Their mistake (according to the current ad) was to play up the drama and love story in the movie, and play down the shock, the horror, the strong stuff. “If you see it,” the ad now promises, “it will sear your senses forever. And that’s the truth.”Well, not quite. The shocking documentary details are there, and sometimes they work but usually they break a tone instead of creating one. That’s because (if you’ll permit me, 20th Century-Fox) this film is indeed a love story, and more specifically a carefully observed portrait of two human beings. If you go to see needles and blood and depravity, you may well be disappointed; the movie is more intelligent than your expectations.That may be because of Joan Didion’s contribution; she wrote the screenplay with her husband, John Gregory Dunne, but somehow I think the character of the girl, Helen, came out of Didion’s private resources.
— Roger Ebert, in his 1971 review of Jerry Schatzberg’s film, about which screenwriter Joan Didion was interviewed by IFC

…In the original release 20th Century-Fox decided to play up the sensational elements in The Panic in Needle Park, and to overlook the qualities that make this a special and sometimes extraordinary movie. The New York Times carried one of those public confession ads that apologize for the ads that have gone before. “Did our ads blow it for The Panic in Needle Park!” the studio says. Their mistake (according to the current ad) was to play up the drama and love story in the movie, and play down the shock, the horror, the strong stuff. “If you see it,” the ad now promises, “it will sear your senses forever. And that’s the truth.”

Well, not quite. The shocking documentary details are there, and sometimes they work but usually they break a tone instead of creating one. That’s because (if you’ll permit me, 20th Century-Fox) this film is indeed a love story, and more specifically a carefully observed portrait of two human beings. If you go to see needles and blood and depravity, you may well be disappointed; the movie is more intelligent than your expectations.

That may be because of Joan Didion’s contribution; she wrote the screenplay with her husband, John Gregory Dunne, but somehow I think the character of the girl, Helen, came out of Didion’s private resources.

— Roger Ebert, in his 1971 review of Jerry Schatzberg’s film, about which screenwriter Joan Didion was interviewed by IFC

(Source: flowerscrackconcrete)

 
I always wanted to spend my twilight years being regarded as a grizzled embittered curmudgeonly old bastard, but instead it’s all goddam lifetime achievement awards and the French adding me to their Legion of Honour. Have none of these assholes seen ‘Paint Your Wagon’ or ‘Space Cowboys’? I used to co-star with an orangutan for Christ’s sake!
— Clint Eastwood
(text via notarobotbutaghost)

I always wanted to spend my twilight years being regarded as a grizzled embittered curmudgeonly old bastard, but instead it’s all goddam lifetime achievement awards and the French adding me to their Legion of Honour. Have none of these assholes seen ‘Paint Your Wagon’ or ‘Space Cowboys’? I used to co-star with an orangutan for Christ’s sake!

— Clint Eastwood

(text via notarobotbutaghost)

"Mr. Cassavetes is unquestionably sympathetic to the rootless state of the middle-American housewife."
— Nora Sayre, in her Oct 14, 1974 review of A Woman Under the Influence for the New York Times

"Mr. Cassavetes is unquestionably sympathetic to the rootless state of the middle-American housewife."

— Nora Sayre, in her Oct 14, 1974 review of A Woman Under the Influence for the New York Times

 
Because Bergman is a man who loves women without identifying with them, his film is full of the sort of wonder and speculation experienced by a tourist in a strange land that he knows well, but that will never be his own.
— Vincent Canby in his Dec. 22, 1972 review for the New York Times

Because Bergman is a man who loves women without identifying with them, his film is full of the sort of wonder and speculation experienced by a tourist in a strange land that he knows well, but that will never be his own.

— Vincent Canby in his Dec. 22, 1972 review for the New York Times

When a film so resolutely refuses to deliver on the level of plot, what we are left with is tone. The Passenger (1975) is about being in a place where nobody knows you or wants to know you, and you are struck by your insignificance. There was a world where it was important that Robertson was Robertson and Locke was Locke. In the desert among strangers, it is not even important that Robertson be Robertson and Locke be Locke. The little white car that crisscrosses the square in the final shot belongs to a driving school. To its driver, it is important to pass the course and get a driver’s license. Robertson and Locke disappear, and this is first gear, this is second, here is the clutch, here is the brake.
— Roger Ebert, in his 2005 revised review

When a film so resolutely refuses to deliver on the level of plot, what we are left with is tone. The Passenger (1975) is about being in a place where nobody knows you or wants to know you, and you are struck by your insignificance. There was a world where it was important that Robertson was Robertson and Locke was Locke. In the desert among strangers, it is not even important that Robertson be Robertson and Locke be Locke. The little white car that crisscrosses the square in the final shot belongs to a driving school. To its driver, it is important to pass the course and get a driver’s license. Robertson and Locke disappear, and this is first gear, this is second, here is the clutch, here is the brake.

— Roger Ebert, in his 2005 revised review

Lenny (1974), starring grown up Dustin Hoffman

Lenny (1974), starring grown up Dustin Hoffman

Bad Timing (1980)

Bad Timing (1980)

In addition to Lord Olivier’s superb performance, Marathon Man has several other superior things going for it: Dustin Hoffman as a moody, guilt-ridden, upper-West Side New Yorker, a haunted innocent obsessed with running, pursued by an unknown evil; Roy Scheider and William Devane as members of some sort of super-super Central Intelligence Agency, and the direction of Mr. Schlesinger, who has made a most elegant, bizarre, rococo melodrama out of material that, when you think about it, makes hardly any sense at all.
— Vincent Canby, in his Oct 7, ‘76 NYT review

In addition to Lord Olivier’s superb performance, Marathon Man has several other superior things going for it: Dustin Hoffman as a moody, guilt-ridden, upper-West Side New Yorker, a haunted innocent obsessed with running, pursued by an unknown evil; Roy Scheider and William Devane as members of some sort of super-super Central Intelligence Agency, and the direction of Mr. Schlesinger, who has made a most elegant, bizarre, rococo melodrama out of material that, when you think about it, makes hardly any sense at all.

— Vincent Canby, in his Oct 7, ‘76 NYT review

(Source: fuckyeahmovieposters)

 
Coming as it does after Nichols’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, The Graduate, and Catch-22, there is a danger, I’m afraid, that Carnal Knowledge will be found disappointing by those who feel that a man’s movies must be increasingly elaborate and long-focused if it’s to be said that his career is progressing. This is just a variation on the old Hollywood myth to the effect that unless each succeeding film of an individual director is more expensive, and a bigger box-office success than the one before, the director must be on his way to Skid Row, or even retirement in Santa Monica.
Carnal Knowledge is nothing if not short-focused. Indeed, it’s virtually a two-character film that devotes itself—with an exclusivity that is rare outside stag films, television commercials, and Japanese haiku—to a single subject: the sexual disasters of Jonathan (Jack Nicholson) and Sandy (Art Garfunkel), initially met when they are Amherst undergraduates in the 1940’s, and finally abandoned as they enter bleak middle-age in the 1970’s.
— Bosley Crowther, from his July 1, 1971 New York Times review

Coming as it does after Nichols’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, The Graduate, and Catch-22, there is a danger, I’m afraid, that Carnal Knowledge will be found disappointing by those who feel that a man’s movies must be increasingly elaborate and long-focused if it’s to be said that his career is progressing. This is just a variation on the old Hollywood myth to the effect that unless each succeeding film of an individual director is more expensive, and a bigger box-office success than the one before, the director must be on his way to Skid Row, or even retirement in Santa Monica.

Carnal Knowledge is nothing if not short-focused. Indeed, it’s virtually a two-character film that devotes itself—with an exclusivity that is rare outside stag films, television commercials, and Japanese haiku—to a single subject: the sexual disasters of Jonathan (Jack Nicholson) and Sandy (Art Garfunkel), initially met when they are Amherst undergraduates in the 1940’s, and finally abandoned as they enter bleak middle-age in the 1970’s.

— Bosley Crowther, from his July 1, 1971 New York Times review

This must be the most powerfully erotic movie ever made, and it may turn out to be the most liberating movie ever made, and so it’s probably only natural that an audience, anticipating a voluptuous feast from the man who made The Conformist, and confronted with this unexpected sexuality, and the new realism it requires of the actors, should go into shock. Bertolucci and Brando have altered the face of an art form. Who was prepared for that?
— Pauline Kael on Bernardo Bertolucci’s Last Tango in Paris (1972)
(image via fuckyeahmovieposters; text via guardian.co.uk)

This must be the most powerfully erotic movie ever made, and it may turn out to be the most liberating movie ever made, and so it’s probably only natural that an audience, anticipating a voluptuous feast from the man who made The Conformist, and confronted with this unexpected sexuality, and the new realism it requires of the actors, should go into shock. Bertolucci and Brando have altered the face of an art form. Who was prepared for that?

— Pauline Kael on Bernardo Bertolucci’s Last Tango in Paris (1972)

(image via fuckyeahmovieposters; text via guardian.co.uk)

This trade ad appeared in the Nov. 9, 1970 issue of Boxoffice magazine, promoting the then-‘In Production’ Warner Bros. release Dirty Harry, and offers a rare glimpse of Sinatra’s Harry Callahan. Note that at this stage, Kershner was still set to direct. These roles ended up going to Clint Eastwood and Don Siegel, respectively.
(via The Dirtiest)

This trade ad appeared in the Nov. 9, 1970 issue of Boxoffice magazine, promoting the then-‘In Production’ Warner Bros. release Dirty Harry, and offers a rare glimpse of Sinatra’s Harry Callahan. Note that at this stage, Kershner was still set to direct. These roles ended up going to Clint Eastwood and Don Siegel, respectively.

(via The Dirtiest)