LADY IN THE LAKE (1947)

Webster’s defines “gimmick” as “an ingenious or novel device, scheme, or stratagem, esp. one designed to attract attention or increase appeal,” and more negatively as “a concealed, usually devious aspect or feature of something, as a plan or deal: An offer that good must have a gimmick in it somewhere.” It is perhaps this later usage that has given the word a derogatory flavor. But a good gimmick, especially in a movie, can be the spark that gives a film life.

Some gimmicks become mainstream. At one point, sound was a gimmick (“The Jazz Singer”), color was a gimmick (“The Phantom of the Opera,” “Becky Sharp”), hand-held cameras were a gimmick and rapid paced editing was a gimmick. Then there are gimmicks that are rarer, or have more limited life spans. 3-D was such a gimmick, with a short life cycle in the 1950’s before it was resurrected in the 21st century. Telling a story in reverse is an interesting seldom used gimmick (“Betrayal,” “Memento”). Giving a film the appearance of being filmed in a continuous take (“Rope”), or shooting an entire film in a continuous take ("Russian Ark") are others. Then there were the films of producer William Castle, who was famous for inserting gimmicks into his films, their promotion and their exhibition, electrifying theater seats (“The Tingler”), flying glow-in-the-dark skeletons over the audience (“House on Haunted Hill”) and providing special glasses that allowed the viewer to see on-screen ghosts (“13 Ghosts”).

In 1940, when Orson Welles was first lured to Hollywood by an extraordinary contract with RKO studios, giving him unprecedented artistic control of his films, he toyed with the notion of an intriguing gimmick. Welles had for years produced radio dramas that were largely told in the first person. He thought this might translate to film as well. What if an entire film was seen from the main character’s perspective, through that character’s eyes? What if the entire film was a series of point-of-view shots. This is the approach he adopted as he moved forward planning an ambitious adaptation of Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness,” wherein “eye = I.” Budgetary restrictions lead to the project being abandoned, making the way for the production of “Citizen Kane.”


Eventually a filmmaker and studio took on this daunting narrative and technical challenge. The studio, which I imagine did not quite know what it was getting itself into, was MGM, and the filmmaker was actor Robert Montgomery. The film was an adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s “Lady in the Lake.” Montgomery was making his credited directorial debut while playing the lead role of Philip Marlow, Private Detective, literally from behind the camera. Never before had almost an entire film been photographed with a subjective camera, no mean feat in 1947 when cameras were large, bulky, unwieldy devices, and before the invention of steady-cams of even the widespread use of hand-held cameras. It is even to this day an almost unique narrative device. Portions of other movies, even lengthy sequences, had been shot from a character’s unbroken perspective before, most notably in Rouben Mamoulian's "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." And some television episodes experimented with the technique in the years to follow. But I do not believe there has ever been another mainstream film to adopt the technique so thoroughly and consistently. The MGM publicity department played this to the hilt in their trailer for the movie.

 

So this was a film that, even though the script and performances are wildly uneven, and even though it was disowned as an adaptation by Chandler, stayed with its viewers as something unique and original, something they had never seen before, a trait always attractive to my Dad, and why “Lady in the Lake” was one of my Dad’s favorite movies.

See “Lady in the Lake” on Turner Classic Movies this Tuesday, November 24, 2009 at 6:30 am EST (5:30 am CST) and on January 20, 2010 at 8 am EST (7 am CST).

Buy Lady in the Lake at Amazon.com

WHITE HEAT (1949)

The classic era of Warner Brothers gangster movies is bookended by four extraordinary, brutal and unsentimental performances from two of Hollywood’s most talented stars, Edward G. Robinson and James Cagney. Robinson’s performance as the crude and ambitious Rico Bandello in “Little Caesar” in 1930 was followed the next year by Cagney’s as the greedy and ruthless Tom Powers in “The Public Enemy.” The studio hit a trifecta the following year when Paul Muni played a thinly veiled version of Al Capone in “Scarface.”

Then came enforcement of the Motion Picture Production Code (AKA the Hays Code), citing what was, and more importantly, what was not acceptable content for motion pictures. The Motion Pictures Producers and Distributors Association (MPPDA) had adopted the guidelines, developed through the late 1920’s, in 1930, but an enforcement entity was not in place until 1934. With its prohibitions against creating sympathy for “the side of crime, wrongdoing, evil or sin,” the depiction of the use of liquor "when not required by the plot or for proper characterization," explicit presentations of the methods of crime, murder scenes unless “filmed in a way that would discourage imitations in real life,” brutal killings and revenge, the Code effectively ended the hard-edged portrayal of gangsters as protagonists. These tough guy characters instead morphed into likable rouges (“All Through the Night,” “Casablanca”), private detectives (“The Maltese Falcon,” “The Big Sleep.”), officers of the law (“G-Men,” “Bullets or Ballots”) and redeemed criminals (“High Sierra.”). It is safe to say that Warner Brothers with its penchant for gritty urban dramas and psychological complexity pushed at the edge of the Code more than any other studio, and there are some exceptions where the coarseness and brutality of the earlier films sneak through (“The Roaring Twenties”), as well as films in which the gangsters are pitted in doomed confrontations with their betters and served their just rewards (“Angels With Dirty Faces,” “Dead End”).

Both Robinson and Cagney continued to mine their tough guy personas. Robinson became an accomplished character actor in films as diverse as “Dr. Ehrlich's Magic Bullet,” “The Sea Wolf,” “Double Indemnity,” and “Our Vines Have Tender Grapes.” Cagney became one of the most successful and beloved stars in Hollywood with films such as “The Fighting 69th,” “The Strawberry Blonde,” and “Yankee Doodle Dandy.”

In 1948 and 1949, as the power of the production code was waning, both Robinson and Cagney returned to the genre and the type of characters that had made them famous – Robinson as Johnny Rocco in “Key Largo,” and Cagney as Cody Jarrett in “White Heat.” Both can be seen as aged extensions of their previous performances in “Little Caesar” and “The Public Enemy.” And whereas “Key Largo” is a great entertainment from director John Huston in the vein of the post-code Warner Brothers films of the later 1930’s and 1940’s, “White Heat” is an unexpected and surprising revelation.



Directed with little of the polish, gloss or civility of most studio pictures of the time by Raoul Walsh, “White Heat” follows the exploits of a rampantly paranoid aging criminal and sociopath with a mother fixation and a sadistic streak, a character that Cagney plays with no sentimentality, but with an enormous amount of energy and magnetism. It is a character unlike almost any other that had headlined a motion picture since the advent of the Production Code, or perhaps even before. It is the strength of Cagney’s charisma, as well as the comparable blandness that Edmond O’Brien brings to his portrayal of Federal Agent and protagonist Hank Fallon, that adds interest and even sympathy to such a reprehensible but utterly fascinating character.

Why was “White Heat” one of my Dad’s favorite movies? I believe that while B Westerns were his genre of choice as a young boy, the Warner Brothers crime films of the late 30’s and 40’s, with their hard boiled characters and gritty environments, were the favorites of his adolescence. I think it is also the uniqueness of Cagney’s character and portrayal, as Dad was always attracted to movies with a new and different take on their stories and characters. But in the days before VCR’s and DVR’s, it was a memorable moment or even line that lodged a movie into memory. And “White Heat” has both. One of the most harrowing moments and unrestrained performances in film is when Jarrett, serving out a prison term for a crime he did not commit but instead used as an alibi for a worse crime he did commit, hears of his mother’s death, and goes literally berserk. It is a tour-de-force for Cagney.



But no one who sees “White Heat” will ever forget Jarrett’s final line, nor the circumstances surrounding it – “Top of the World, Ma.” My Dad certainly did not.



Watch “White Heat” on Turner Classic Movies, Saturday November 14 at 10 am Eastern (9 am Central) and Monday, November 30 at 1:30 pm Eastern (12:30 pm Central)


Buy White Heat at Amazon.com

© 2009 Edward Bowen

TAKE THE MONEY AND RUN (1969)

Woody Allen’s debut as a triple threat (co-writer, director, and actor) is a machine gun strafe of gags. Roger Ebert criticized the film, saying “I suspect it's a list of a lot of things Woody Allen wanted to do in a movie someday, and the sad thing is he did them all at once.” Having more in common with later Mel Brooks or Abrahams/Zucker movies than with the more meditative Allen comedies that would follow, “Take the Money and Run” is, as they are described in the director’s own “Stardust Memories,” one of Allen’s “early funny ones,” along with "Bananas" and "Sleeper." There is none of the character development or pathos of later efforts such as “Annie Hall,” “Manhattan,” or “Hannah and Her Sisters.”

The film’s format as a “mockumentary,” the first of its kind, years before “Meet the Rutles (1978),” “This is Spinal Tap (1984),” or “Waiting for Guffman (1997),” allows it to be a purposefully disconnected series of gags built around the character of consistently unsuccessful career criminal Virgil Stockwell, played by Allen. I think the originality of this premise, a faux documentary that mixes playing it straight with outrageous slapstick and shtick, is what my Dad enjoyed. But the film is just as much a pastiche of "The Untouchables" and other earnestly narrated true crime television series that my Dad enjoyed.

Although “Take the Money and Run” was the first in a long series of films Allen wrote, directed, and starred in, it was certainly not the beginning of his career. He had previously been a successful gag writer and stand-up comic, had co-written and “directed” “What’s Up Tiger Lily,” a Japanese spy movie that Allen and company re-dubbed into a comedy, and had acted in such films as “What’s New Pussycat,” for which he wrote the original and largely discarded screenplay, and the original “Casino Royale.” It is reputedly his experience in the later chaotically produced film that initiated his desire to direct "Take the Money and Run” himself, after a supposedly unsuccessful attempt to get Jerry Lewis to take the job on.

Allen began an important relationship on this film with editor Ralph Rosenblum, credited as “Editorial Consultant,” who would go on to edit five more Allen features, including “Annie Hall.” He is often credited with saving “Take the Money and Run” by tightening the edit and convincing Allen to remove a violent ending emulating the bloody climax of “Bonnie and Clyde.” Rosenblum is also often credited with much of the intricate structure that makes "Annie Hall" so complelling.

But a key element to the success of “Take the Money and Run” is the performance and voice of narrator Jackson Beck, most famously the voice behind the opening of the original “Adventures of Superman” television series, voice of Blutto in the "Popeye" cartoon series, and pitchman for Little Caesar’s Pizza. The seriousness with which he plays his role adds a foundation of gravitas that buoys the outrageous comedy on screen. Beck began his prolific and lengthy career as a silent film actor, and was still doing voice work into the 1990's.


As a father, there is much in Woody Allen’s life to abhor, but this is still a funny movie, and one my Dad enjoyed long before Allen’s tragic and reprehensible behavior in later life.

Catch “Take the Money and Run” on Turner Classic Movies on November 7, 2009 at 8 pm Eastern and on December 1, 2009 at 6 pm Eastern. Here's the preview trailer.


Buy Take the Money and Run - Uncut (Widescreen Edition) at Amazon.com

© 2009 Edward Bowen

A TEMPEST IN A WATER CLOSET

Jack Paar and the Water Closet Joke:

A bit of a departure for this entry - let's call it "My Dad's Favorite Joke."

On February 10, 1960, television icon and "Tonight Show" host Jack Paar told the following joke as part of the late night talk show:

"An English lady, while visiting Switzerland, was looking for a room, and she asked the schoolmaster if he could recommend any to her. He took her to see several rooms, and when everything was settled, the lady returned to her home to make the final preparations to move. When she arrived home, the thought suddenly occurred to her that she had not seen a "W.C." (water closet - what the British often call a toilet) around the place. So she immediately wrote a note to the schoolmaster asking him if there were a W.C. around. The schoolmaster was a very poor student of English, so he asked the parish priest if he could help in the matter. Together they tired to discover the meaning of the letters W.C., and the only solution they could find for the letters was a Wayside Chapel. The schoolmaster then wrote to the English lady the following note:

Dear Madam,

I take great pleasure in informing you that the W.C. is situated nine miles from the house you occupy, in the center of a beautiful grove of pine trees surrounded by lovely grounds. It is capable of holding 229 people and it is open on Sunday and Thursday only. As there are a great number of people and they are expected during the summer months, I would suggest that you come early: although there is plenty of standing room as a rule. You will no doubt be glad to hear that a good number of people bring their lunch and make a day of it. While others who can afford to go by car arrive just in time. I would especially recommend that your ladyship go on Thursday when there is a musical accompaniment. It may interest you to know that my daughter was married in the W.C. and it was there that she met her husband. I can remember the rush there was for seats. There were ten people to a seat ordinarily occupied by one. It was wonderful to see the expression on their faces. The newest attraction is a bell donated by a wealthy resident of the district. It rings every time a person enters. A bazaar is to be held to provide plush seats for all the people, since they feel it is a long felt need. My wife is rather delicate, so she can't attend regularly. I shall be delighted to reserve the best seat for you if you wish, where you will be seen by all. For the children, there is a special time and place so that they will not disturb the elders. Hoping to have been of service to you, I remain,

Sincerely,

The Schoolmaster."

The joke was also published in Paar's book "I Kid You Not," and it was a perennial favorite around our house. It was often a challenge to see who could read it aloud without laughing. I can clearly remember my Dad painstakingly working his way through a reading while trying to force his mouth from curling upwards in the smile that would undoubtledy open the door to full fledged laughter.

Paar described the joke as "a little anecdote given me by a friend. He got it from his thirteen-year-old niece, whose teacher had read it to her junior high school class. They had enjoyed it so much that the teacher had given each class member a copy."

So Paar was ill prepared when he discovered that the network censor, without notifying him, had cut the joke from the broadcast, leaving the impression that Paar had told a "smutty story." Paar asked that the offending material be aired the next night, and that the audience be allowed to decide whether it was offensive or not. The netword refused. The next night, a still angry Paar gave one of the most public, emotional and memorable resignation speeches of all time.



By March 7, Paar was back on the air hosting the Tonight Show. He strolled onto the stage, struck a pose before the expectant audience and uttered the infamous line "As I was saying before I was interrupted ..." The audience erupted in laughter.

He continued "I believe the last thing I said was 'There must be a better way to make a living than this.' Well, I've looked...and there isn't." He explained with his usual self-depricating honesty "Leaving the show was a childish and perhaps emotional thing. I have been guilty of such action in the past and will perhaps be again. I'm totally unable to hide what I feel. It is not an asset in show business, but I shall do the best I can to amuse and entertain you and let other people speak freely, as I have in the past."

Two years later, in March of 1962, Paar left "The Tonight Show, " stating that he could no longer maintain the five-nights-a-week grind, and opening the door for replacement Johnny Carson. He moved to prime time with "The Jack Paar Program" airing weekly on Friday nights through 1965.

© 2009 Edward Bowen

THE OKLAHOMA KID (1939)

And while we’re discussing the westerns of 1939, another favorite of my Dad’s was Warner Brothers’ “The Oklahoma Kid.” So what did my Dad like so much about “The Oklahoma Kid?” Well, it’s a western with James Cagney as the hero and Humphrey Bogart as the villain. What’s not to like about that. It’s Cagney’s first western, after carving out a niche for himself as a contemporary urban tough guy in films such as “The Public Enemy” and “Angels With Dirty Faces.” But Cagney was a versatile and gifted performer. Prior to “The Oklahoma Kid” he had performed in comedies, played hoofers in musicals, and had even essayed the role of Bottom in Warner Brothers’ and Max Reinhart’s production of Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Nevertheless, critics and audiences seemed to have particular difficulty accepting Cagney in a cowboy role. His co-star Bogart described him in his ten-gallon hat as looking like a mushroom. However, Cagney brings whimsy and eccentricity to what might have been a standard western role, famously coining the pick-up line “feel the air” and singing “I Don’t Want to Play in Your Yard” while fending off the interruptions of bad guy Ward Bond.



In 1939, Bogart was at the stage in his career where he accepted whatever parts Warner Brothers threw at him, and the studio often seemed at a loss to know how best to use him. Most often cast as heavies and gangsters, the western venue was also a departure for him. It would be another two years and ten films before Bogart would achieve true star status with “High Sierra” and “The Maltese Falcon.” Whereas Cagney’s Jim Kincaid is, for the most part, amiable and disarming, Bogart’s Whip McCord, dressed from head to toe in black, is brutal, humorless, course, unattractive, and utterly devoid of any redeeming characteristics.

But I think what might have really attracted my Dad to “The Oklahoma Kid” is that it is a merging of the two favorite genres of his youth, the “B” western that was the love of his childhood, and the tough guy gangster/detective movie, best exemplified by the output of the Warner Brothers studio, that was the mainstay of his adolescence.

My Dad seemed more in tune with Warner Brothers’ films than those of any other studio. During the golden age of the Hollywood studio system, the studios, each run by formidable personalities, all had distinct styles of their own. Having pioneered the use of synchronized sound for motion pictures, Warners was known for biting humor, hard edged, moody, socially-conscious fare and urban, lower-class, tough characters, all of which Dad enjoyed.

The western elements of “The Oklahoma Kid” are obvious. The film even pays homage to the popular singing cowboys of the “B” westerns when Cagney performs not only “I Don’t Want to Play in Your Yard,” but also a Spanish version of ‘Rockaby Baby.” (As a side note, “I Don’t Want to Play in Your Yard” also figures prominently in Warren Beatty’s 1981 film “Reds.”)

The influences of the Warners’ gritty and urban gangster films are more subtle. Although Cagney’s character is quirky and appealing, this is largely a dark drama, with none of the lightness of tone found in “Destry Rides Again” that same year.

Cagney’s charming but sometimes brutal anti-hero, a criminal himself, owes a great deal to his gangster roles. The town of Tulsa is a crowded, tight, noisy place, feeling more like Warners’ New York back lot than the open expanses and simple designs of most previous western settings. Much of the movie takes place at night; even the chase scenes through the rocky wilderness are photographed day for night by renowned cinematographer James Wong Howe. His black and white lighting is often dark with shadows, his compositions are crowded with foreground elements, his camera is often low to the ground, and he keeps the horizon line high in the frame, all visual elements common to more urban fare, and adding to the claustrophobia. Other than in the Oklahoma land rush scenes, there are none of the expansive vistas common to the films of other western directors like John Ford, none of the color and brightness of Warners’ other western from that year, “Dodge City.” There is even a hint of the social consciousness that was evident in Warners’ early, pre production-code films. The film opens with President Grover Cleveland dismayed over his hesitant signing of the Indian Appropriations Bill and his belief that the opening of the Oklahoma territories to settlers is unfair to native Americans. But it is the cynicism and worldliness expressed by Cagney’s character in this exchange that truly mirrors the attitude of many early Warners pictures.  Says the Kid: "The strong take it away from the weak, and the smart take it away from the strong."



And, if you listen closely, you will hear in Max Steiner’s score some of the same motifs that reoccur two years later in “The Maltese Falcon.”
Although Cagney’s character brings some lightness and humor to the proceedings, this is largely a dark and surprisingly violent drama, with none of the lightness of tone found in “Destry Rides Again” that same year. Certain elements of this revenge tale are seen again years later in “Hour of the Gun.”

“The Oklahoma Kid” is probably as close to being an urban gangster film as a western can be.

Amazingly, this is another classic film that has never been released on DVD. Luckily, it airs on Turner Classic Movies with some regularity.





© 2009 Edward Bowen

DESTRY RIDES AGAIN (1939)

1939 was a banner year in popular culture. “Gone with the Wind” and “The Wizard of Oz” top an astonishing list of admired and timeless movies from that year. Radio was at the peak of its popularity, and Batman debuted in Detective Comics # 27.

In 1939, the major Hollywood studios seemed to simultaneously decide that the western genre, long relegated to “B” movie status, was a proper vehicle for “A” list directors, stars, and budgets. Warner Brothers put James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart in “The Oklahoma Kid” and Errol Flynn in “Dodge City.” Twentieth Century Fox cast Tyrone Power and Henry Fonda in “Jesse James,” and placed John Ford at the helm of “Drums Along the Mohawk,” also with Fonda. Paramount put a huge budget behind Cecil B. DeMille’s “Union Pacific,” with Barbara Stanwick and Joel McCrea, and released “Geronimo,” the inspiration for the famous mid-air paratrooper yell from World War II. RKO got into the action with “Allegheny Uprising,” and United Artists released Walter Wanger and John Ford’s production of “Stagecoach,” which would launch John Wayne into super stardom. And then, from Universal Studios, there was “Destry Rides Again,” an “A” western strong on comedy and character.

More than any of the other films of that year, “Destry Rides Again” borrows heavily from the formula of the “B” westerns. Heavy on action and stunt work, these low budget, quickly shot movies were a mainstay of young and old alike, and featured stars such as Ken Maynard, Bob Steele, William Boyd, Johnny Mack Brown, Dick Foran, Tim Holt, and singing cowboys Gene Autry and Roy Rogers as straight-laced, square-jawed heroes. They are the movies my Dad grew up on.

There is much in “Destry,” that harkens to the familiar “B” western format - the corrupt town, the land-grabbing villain, the treacherous barmaid, the comic side-kick, the musical interludes, and the hero come to clean up the town. But it’s the variations on the familiar themes that make the movie so interesting, vital and fun

The depth and density of the corruption of Bottleneck, the setting of the movie, is almost unprecedented. It’s a palpable presence in the town’s saloon, overcrowded with riotous, unsavory extras. The urbane and unctuous saloon owner (Brian Donlevy), Frenchy, the saloon singer and hostess (Marlene Dietrich) and the sleazy, tobacco-chewing judge and mayor (Samuel S. Hinds) are all in on the illegal shenanigans. The threat is heightened by the caliber of the actors portraying these villains. And there has certainly never been a duplicitous barmaid that looked or sounded anything like Marlene Dietrich.

But the real break with tradition here is the character of Thomas Jefferson Destry, the hero with a reputation and a pedigree, brought in to save the day by the ineffective town drunk the villains have appointed sheriff. Destry is anything but what his reputation and western tradition would suggest. He arrives in town and is an immediate if unflappable laughing stock, much to the sheriff’s chagrin.

Gangly, mild-mannered, folksy, avoiding confrontation, lapsing into homespun anecdotes about probably apocryphal friends, carving napkin-rings, and most astonishingly, refusing to carry guns, Destry is unlike any western hero before.

But there is a method and a philosophy to Destry’s eccentricities …

… and as played by James Stewart, a hidden strength to the character, and a dangerous edge he keeps hidden until needed, a side of his character we see more often in Stewart’s more mature performances for Anthony Mann and John Ford later in his career.

Although others may remember Marlene Dietrich famously performing “See What the Boys in the Backroom Will Have,” I think it is the character of Destry that surprised and delighted my Dad, and made this one of his favorite movies. And the scene he remembered the most was not the often remembered “cat fight” between Dietrich and Una Merkle, but the aftermath when Destry incurs Frenchy’s ire.

1939 was also a big year for Stewart with five films in release. Just three years after his first film role, he begins the year as an almost unknown, recognized for his ensemble performance in Frank Capra’s “You Can’t Take It With You” the previous year, and ends it as a full fledged star, nominated for an Academy Award for his performance of Jefferson Smith in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” It is interesting to note that Stewart took second billing to his female co-stars in each of his 1939 films, and would not receive top billing until “No Time For Comedy” in 1941.

Buy Destry Rides Again at Amazon.com.

© 2009 Edward Bowen

BREAKING AWAY (1979)

In 1979, writer Steve Tesich, a Yugoslavian émigré, was about to hit it big. He would win an Oscar for his first produced screenplay, “Breaking Away,” and would follow with five more produced screenplays in as many years, including “Eyewitness,” “The World According to Garp,” and the highly autobiographical “Four Friends,” a script that highlighted his immigrant’s belief in the triumph of the American dream over devastating tragedy. He would work with some of the most acclaimed film directors of his generation, including George Roy Hill, Arthur Penn, John Badham, and three times with his “Breaking Away” collaborator Peter Yates. His play “Division Street” would be performed on Broadway. Eventually, after 1985’s “American Fliers” and “Eleni,” he would cease writing screenplays and focus on playwriting as he become increasingly disillusioned about America and in particular its foreign policy.

In 1979, Peter Yates was at the pinnacle of his success. His second outing as a director, 1968’s “Bullitt,” with its innovative and unforgettable car chase through the street of San Francisco, had established itself as a classic. Seven feature films later, his most recent release, “The Deep,” based on author Peter Benchley’s follow-up to “Jaws,” and featuring a just as unforgettable Jacqueline Bisset, had been a popular success, ranking among the top ten grossers in a year that inlcuded "Star Wars," "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," 'Smokey and the Bandit," and "Saturday Night Fever." The Academy would nominate him as Best Director for “Breaking Away,” which would also be nominated as Best Picture.

“Breaking Away” tells the story of Dave Stoller, played by Dennis Christopher, whose love of cycling and enthusiasm for Italian competitive cyclists leads him to take on a fanciful and perhaps delusional Italian persona, much to his father’s chagrin.




Stoller and his working-class friends, played by up-and coming actors Dennis Quaid, Daniel Stern and Jackie Earl Haley, spend the summer days swimming at the abandoned quarry, resisting the pulls of impending adulthood, entangled in romantic relationships, and sparing with haughty students from the local college, Indiana University. They compete against an arrogant college team in a climactic bicycle race, a battle emblematic of the antipathy between the townies, descendants of the local stoneworkers, or “cutters,” and the invading college students. The character of Dave Stoller is based on legendary bicyclist, Italian enthusiast, and Tesich’s college friend Dave Blase, and the race is an actual competition held annually at Indiana University, in which Blasé and Tesich participated during their college days.

Director Yates, Cinematographer Matthew Leonetti and Designer Patrizia von Brandenstein make the most of their Indiana locations, giving the film an authentic and believable beauty.

While most of the film focuses on the friendship and trials of the four main characters, it is Paul Dooley’s performance as Dave’s put upon father Raymond that steals the show, and the relationship of the father and son that provides the emotional foundation for the film.




Dooley delivers an astonishingly layered, unselfconscious and memorable performance, never shying away from the harsh and even cruel behavior of the character. It is his blustering inability and refusal to recognize, accept, or deal with his own parental emotions that is ultimately so endearing. He is representative of a generation or hard-working husbands and fathers for whom revealing any emotion other than anger and frustration was a sign of weakness. And due notice should be given to the less flashy but no less important performance from Barbara Barrie as Dave's charming, perceptive, understanding and patient mother. A busy television actress with memorable recurring roles in "Barney Miller" and "ThirtySomething" was nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her role in "Breaking Away."




But I think Dooley's performance as Raymond Stoller is what my father liked best about “Breaking Away.” I believe he may have empathized with the character. My father came from working-class roots, grew up in the depression, and along with my mother sacrificed to raise a family. He shied away from excessive expressions of emotion, but was a loving, supportive and giving parent with a son I am sure he often did not understand.




A cartoonist, stand-up comedian and magician, Paul Dooley was discovered by director Mike Nichols, who cast him in the supporting cast of the original 1965 Broadway production of “The Odd Couple.” Dooley eventually replaced Art Carney as the persnickety Felix Ungar opposite Walter Matthau’s grouchy Oscar Madison. Dooley wrote for the landmark children’s series “The Electric Company” in the 1970’s. His first major film role was in Robert Altman’s “A Wedding.” Comfortable and proficient in improvisation, he became a favorite of the director, and appeared in a total of six of his films. He has made numerous memorable television appearances in series such as ‘ThirtySomething,” “Deep Space Nine,” “The Wonder Years,” “Desperate Housewives,” “My So-Called Life,” “Dream On,” and “The Practice.”

But his two most famous roles are as fathers in “Breaking Away” and 1984's “Sixteen Candles.”

“Breaking Away” is not the only movie featuring evocative father-son relationships on my Dad’s favorites list. The irresponsible father and the mature-beyond-his-years son in “A Hole in the Head,” the profane, combustible father and the bewildered son of “A Christmas Story,” and the unconventional, free-spirited uncle and surrogate father to a “middle-aged kid” in “A Thousand Clowns” were also favorites of my Dad.



Buy Breaking Away (Widescreen Edition)at Amazon.

© 2009 Edward Bowen