Showing posts with label William Goldman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Goldman. Show all posts

Friday, May 15, 2020

Marathon Man

In these days of communicable diseases and precautionary measures for the greater good, folks on both sides of the aisle and of every color-stripe are being a little flippant with the "N"-word—"Nazi." 

So, just for a refresher course, we are going to sub-set the "Spies" series we're doing with movies where there are Nazi's (you know, "the bad guys"—Indiana Jones fought them in Raiders of the Lost Ark!) 

And we're going to call it "Nazi's...Nazi's everywhere."

Marathon Man (John Schlesinger, 1976) On the celebration of Yom Kippur, two chance encounters in New York City create an interruption in already established conspiracy that will conclude in two two wildly disparate people facing off against each other in a duel to the death: two cranky New Yorkers escalate a road-rage incident into a fiery crash, while on a track around Central Park, two joggers engage in a running battle over who's fastest—the slower of them Thomas "Babe" Levy (Dustin Hoffman) eventually gives up. His brother, an oil company executive, whom he affectionately calls "Doc" tells him he never confronts anything and this is just another example. A student at Columbia, "Babe" is doing his doctoral on tyranny, part of which will deal with the McCarthy era, of which his father, H.V. Levy, became a victim, ultimately committing suicide. "Doc" tells him that it's the past and he should put it behind him.

But, "Babe" still has the gun.
Across the Atlantic, a courier named "Scylla" (Roy Scheider) is beginning to get suspicious about the circle he regularly deals with. When he meets his established contacts, they are surprised to see him when he shows up at his usual haunts in Paris. Maybe because they think he's already been killed. He's nearly blown up by a street-bomb, one of his contacts is garroted at the opera, and the same assassin tries the same thing to him in his Paris apartment, before he gets the drop on him and breaks his attackers' back. Something is up, and he beats it out of Europe to get to the United States.
In South America, meanwhile, events have created movement among individuals who have remained in place for a very long time, lest their activity draw attention. Dr. Christian Szell (Laurence Olivier) under cover of darkness is leaving his Buenos Aries retreat for the first time in years. He has never needed to, but events have put him in danger—he needs information, to secure verifiable funds (that have been interrupted) and to eliminate the forces that have kept him safe all these years. His past is catching up with him. And so he runs. To the United States.
"Babe," meanwhile, couldn't be happier. While doing his research on his paper, he meets Elsa Opel (Marthe Keller), a Swiss student who is beautiful and charmed by him and he's so smitten, he can't believe his luck. Not even when, on an outing in Central Park, they are mugged by two very well-suited men; muggings aren't that rare, but usually by perpetrators less formally dressed. Babe tells Doc about Elsa and the mugging, and Doc wants to meet the girl.
Babe is surprised by a visit from Doc, and the two banter and bicker and make plans for an extended visit, Doc playing the protective older brother, wanting to meet these girl that babe is over the moon for. He has others plans that he doesn't let Babe in on, for Doc is also Scylla...and he's been at his game long enough that he doesn't believe in coincidence. Not with so much happening, of which Babe is innocently unaware.
The introductory dinner initially goes well; Doc picks an up-scale restaurant that leaves babe feeling like a fish out of water—he doesn't even own a tie that is required for so formal a setting. And Doc is clearly taken with Elsa—he flirts, he compliments, puts on airs as when he mysteriously says of the ordered wine "the great Chablis of the world are almost always green eyed. In fact, they're the ones that most resemble diamonds," a remark clearly intended to flatter Elsa and she's caught off-guard.
That's the point. Doc/Scylla is speaking in code. He suspects Elsa has something to do with his business in New York and the mugging makes him sure of it, but he doesn't tell Babe that. What he tells him is that Elsa is likely an exchange student on a foreign visa who wants permanent residency by coercing babe into marriage. Elsa leaves the restaurant in anger and Babe is hurt that Doc would insult her in such a way and have the opinion that Elsa wouldn't be attracted to somebody like himself without a hidden agenda. 

The meal ends on bad terms, but Doc has another meeting to go to and the stakes have just been raised.
Doc has arranged to meet Dr. Szell in a public setting, for those he's an old man, his past belies his frailty—he is the hunted Nazi Doctor Szell of Auschwitz, known as "der weiße Engel" (the White Angel) and for the past few years, his location has been protected by American interests for the information he's provided about war criminals, and for his services he has been provided anonymity and a steady flow of the diamonds obtained from his victims at the camp. One of the victims of the earlier traffic accident was his brother who was the first person in the diamond pipeline, retrieving the stones from a safe deposit box. With his death, Szell has come to this country to retrieve the diamonds, and, having no more need for the pipeline, has been systematically eliminating them.

Doc tells Szell that he is not welcome in the States and threatens to "out" him if he doesn't return to hiding. Suspecting that Elsa and the mugging have something to do with the elimination of the pipeline and his own assassination attempts, he warns Szell to stay away from Babe, as well. But, Szell is in for a penny, in for a pound. The stakes have changed.
Using a spring-loaded blade secreted in his coat-sleeve, he guts Doc like a fish, leaving him bleeding out and makes his escape. But, Doc somehow manages to make it back to Babe's apartment, dying on his floor. If he was attempting to warn Babe, he doesn't have the strength to tell him what has happened, and Babe, shocked and grieving, can only call the police and wait, stunned. 

The police take their time poking through Babe's apartment, asking questions, but he's clueless—there is no reason why his brother would be murdered and also, why he would make it to his apartment, knowing he was mortally wounded. Good question. The police are joined by plainclothesmen led by agent Peter Janeway (William Devane) who ask the same question. Why did Doc come back? Did he say anything to Babe before he died? No, Babe says. He said nothing. But, the question keeps being asked. Are you sure? Yes. He said nothing. Janeway tells Babe that his brother was a government agent and a colleague (and perhaps more?) but, despite the new revelations, Babe can't recall anything.
But, Scylla is dead. His warnings are going to go unheeded, and more people than just Janeway want to know what it was he said when he was dying. For Babe, his life will be put in jeopardy, involving kidnapping and torture—by dentist drill handled by a Nazi doctor in one of the most squirm-inducing sequences in movies (and the immortal line "Is it safe?")—and will be given a first-hand education in how dangerous and cruel the world can be...outside of history books. And he will run. And run for his life.
"Is it safe?"
On the technical side, Marathon Man was the first film to take advantage of the new stabilizing camera rig called "Steadicam." As operated by inventor Garrett Brown, the gimballed gyroscope system kept the camera from bumping in hand-held shots, giving the resulting footage a gliding quality, producing an organic freedom that couldn't be achieved with the conventional tracks and wheels. The running scenes benefited greatly from the new camera rig allowing free-moving close shots without the bump-and-jitter smearing that resulted from even the steadiest operator.
Also, the sound design is very special. Except for some studio scenes and a few others, most of the film's dialog is dubbed, the ambient sounds stripped away to focus on little detailed sounds designed to enhance or draw attention. It's a subtle thing, but every-so-often, one notices that the world is awfully quiet, in which case, be on the alert.
The film isn't nearly as air-tight as William Goldman's novel (Goldman did his own adaptation), leaving some loose threads, and condensing it down to essential scenes, nuggets of intensity, making it primarily a thriller, then veering into horror aspects (and film-strategies) when the action turns violent (which it does sporadically, creating ghastly effects). At the time I first saw it (in theaters), having read the novel, I was a bit disappointed, but the film has grown on me over time, especially in the grittiness of it that belies its slick veneer of polish.
As such, it's more of a sprint...not so much of a marathon.



Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Harper (1966)

Harper (Jack Smight, 1966) The modern private eye, post-Chandler has always been a smart-aleck, but most of them have the charm to at least be surprised by the pecadilloes of their clients.

Not Lew Harper* (Paul Newman).  He's been in Los Angeles so long, he's seen everything and is so jaded, everything rolls off his back like polluted water.  Been there, done that, sneered at it and held his tongue, did his job and took a shower afterwards.  

Most detectives of the ilk don't take their work home with them.  Not Harper.  Now, in the middle of divorce proceedings from his wife (Janet Leigh)—well, not in the middle, he's just not signing the papers, hoping he might be able to charm her back (fat chance)—his work is his home, living in his rat-trap of an office.  When he's not working, he looks like he's a derelict.  But, he's Paul Newman, so he "cleans up" very nice when he's got a job to do, getting his hands dirty..
Harper cleans up real nice
But business has not been good, and he's been depending on the kindness of friends.  His attorney buddy Albert Graves (Arthur Hill), has a very lucrative client—an eccentric oil millionaire, Ralph Sampson—who has gone missing. An interview with his brittle, incapacitated wife (Lauren Bacall) shows a disdain for the man, disinterest in his whereabouts, and only a cunning interest in how it will affect the family dynamic—she despises her step-daughter, the lithe and somewhat vacuous Miranda (Pamela Tiffin)—and the financial situation if Graves should wind up...you know...dead or, worse, out of money. 

The man is eccentric and invisible.  Mrs. Sampson has been through it before—the disappearance for weeks at a time, the affairs, the drunken remorse, then Sampson washes, rinses, then repeats.  She just wants to know where he goes on these benders.  First, stop: round back to the pool, where Sampson's pilot (Robert Wagner) is enjoying not working, with Miranda, Sampson's daughter, who is fulfilling her part in, what can be described in the 60's as "the Raquel Welch role," dancing in a bikini to generic rock n' roll.  Both are curious where Daddy is, but not enough to do anything about it.  And the last time the pilot saw Sampson, he'd just flown him to L.A. from Vegas, and the man had made a phone call to be driven to the bungalow he keeps in Bel-Air. 

Pamela Tiffin, comfortable with boogaloos and bungalows
The trail leads Harper through a series of California cast-off's, a way-past-her-prime actress (Shelley Winters) and her husband-handler (Robert Webber), a junkie lounge-singer (Julie Harris) and the leader of a religious cult (Strother Martin) that's a front for smuggling illegals into the U.S.  They're all semi-competent, deeply flawed to the bone and more than a little desperate.  Just when Harper thinks he might be onto something, there's a call from the Sampson's saying that the old man's been kidnapped and the perpetrators are asking for $500,000.  The money is dropped, then disappears.

Then people start dying.

It's an odd, slightly bungled mystery with not an awful lot of suspense, but more of a jaundiced eye towards the desert wasteland of Los Angeles and the buzzards who circle it.  Harper seems to mark a tipping-point for the detective movie—where the evil that men did was in the past done by a minority of professionals, now it's done by amateurs, and seemingly anybody.


What I think the central interest of Harper is in the subject of loyalty.  It's a stand-by of detective yarns as far back as The Maltese Falcon when Sam Spade rambled on about the raison d'être for taking the case.


When a man's partner is killed, he's supposed to do something about it. It doesn't make any difference what you thought of him. He was your partner and you're supposed to do something about it. And it happens we're in the detective business. Well, when one of your organization gets killed, it's bad business to let the killer get away with it, bad all around, bad for every detective everywhere.

Chandler took that moral quandry to the next level in his novel "The Long Goodbye"**(there are odd echoes of Chandler's books throughout Harper, but none of the moral authority).  There, a friend of detective Philip Marlowe's, Terry Lennox, asks him, no questions asked, to drive him to Mexico.  It is revealed later that Lennox's wife has been murdered, and suspicion immediately falls on Lennox, and, as an accomplice, Marlowe, being in the detective business, doggedly investigates whether his friend's a murderer. When Robert Altman made his 70's version of The Long Goodbye, he took a step far afield of the norm and the book—in the movie, Lennox does kill his wife, and Marlowe's answer to the loyalty question is simple: he shoots Lennox dead.  Loyalty's one thing, but murder's another.
Harper is somewhere in between, where loyalty is tested by actions of friends and the detective has to decide what he's supposed to do about it, whatever he thinks of him.  The ending, where Harper decides to do the right thing, expecting a bullet in his back so he doesn't have to ("Aw, hell!") is an example of not decisive action, but of passive-aggressiveness.  Newman was becoming well-known as an anti-hero actor, and his detective, while not being heroic, is not exactly anti-, either.  That would take a writer the likes of Mickey Spillane, crafting the hero as thug (because, "hey, why waste time, I've got a bottle of scotch getting warm"). William Goldman, after Kenneth Millar, doesn't go that far, and ends it unresolved.  The mystery ends, but justice is never served.  Life goes on, and seems disappointed at the prospect.  Hardly noir.  Hardly much of anything.



* Harper is based on Ross McDonald's Lew Archer character from the novel "The Moving Target," but Newman had enough clout that he could change the name to Harper (because he had a string of box-office hits with titles that began with "H.")

** "The Long Goodbye" was actually published four years after the the book that was the basis of Harper, "The Moving Target."