BY ROBIN D FOX
This is a gem of a movie. No denying; essential viewing: a classic. But somehow it’s been shuffled away into a drawer. Or at least it seems that way to me. It’s as if everyone’s seen the poster or at least the DVD cover (it hasn’t ever gone out of print to my knowledge) and never thought twice about it being a classic, but few folks actually sit down and watch it anymore. A shame really. This movie is one of those rare examples of total crowd pleasing goodness, without a pandering bone its celluloid body. It’s the perfect blending of art and mainstream “feel good”.
The story follows Moze Pray, which may or may not be his a real name, (played by Ryan O’Neal) a lowly depression-era grifter who, through an odd detour to the funereal of an old flame, winds up the charge of a razor-witted young tomboy (the irresistibly punchy Tatum O’Neal), who may or may not be his daughter.
The two take to the road and quickly become a bickering and heartwarmingly domestic version Bonnie and Clyde. Obstacles emerge in the guise of a haughty tramp (played with masterful humor by the great Madeline Kahn), and eventually a duo of corrupt twins (both played by the underrated John Hillerman) who all attempt to ensnare our heroes.
The clashing father/daughter banter between the O’Neals is so incredibly endearing you’ll wear out your smile muscles, while the plot (I feel like the Coens gave this one a good watch before sitting down with O Brother) moves at a tight, jazzy pace. The stakes are consistently high in small ways, as the supporting characters: Kahn, Hiller, and even Randy Quaid in his tiny, tiny role, take turns devouring the scenery around the unmatched perfection of Laszlo Kovacs’ black and white cinematography. But, the supporting role that stole the show for me was P. J. Johnson as the world weary fifteen year old (I think) Imogene. The scenes between Tatum O’Neal and Johnson are made of ethereal greatness and pure sincerity, their deadpan chemistry is a glory to behold and unlike anything else.
Bogdanovich is an odd duck in the in the annals of cinematic auteurs. His life has gone a similar route (in SOME ways, SOME) as another great of this era, Roman Polanski. But, don’t take that the wrong way. I use Polanski (as opposed to Coppola, Friedkin, De Palma, Cimino, or any of the other directors that comprised “New Hollywood” movement of the 70’s) as a comparison because their films carry that same tongue-in-cheek, flawlessness: a good natured darkness, like the wicked fantasies of small town boys. Even with Paper Moon (the lightest film of this era, that can still be declared a great), Bogdanovich stood in the shadows. There was this faint wickedness at play (which was even more apparent n the that could be his greatest, but definitely best known: The Last Picture Show).
As a director he started like most of the American greats of the time, working for schlock-meister Roger Corman (man, we need another one of him). He had an impressive showing with a solid decade of big hits (Last Picture Show and Paper Moon both rocked the Oscars) and big misses (the cost of being a filmmaker with vision), but Bogdanovich’s artist days would be assassinated in 1980, embodied in a gorgeous 20 year old actress and Playmate who at that point owned his heart. Her name was Dorothy Stratten.
Watch this amazing classic, please!
Cinematic Ruminations 