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Also, Clyde's impotence called to mind a scene in an early Gus Van Sant movie (maybe Drugstore Cowboy?) where the girlfriend complains "I always have to drive and you never fuck me." Is the impotent or uninterested male a minor tradition of on-the run or lowlife characters?
But another thing while I'm thinking about it: they're usually really mystified by Clyde's sexuality. Many of them figure out (or speculate) that he's possibly bisexual (even though he's rewritten as impotent). Interesting stuff.
Trailer
Faye Dunaway's lips - the opening
Gene Wilder
The ambush
The documentary, which a very sweet couple spent four years on, was disappointing. They're not good storytellers. And they're no Tom Frank.
"Dumb," perhaps; but I would say more importantly Beatty conveys this kind of bafflement before the world that resembles, to take another character described in the book, Benjamin Braddock.
Now Blanche Barrow, the preacher's daughter who gets in with a bunch of killers and becomes a willing (though regretful) accomplice - that's some dark and dangerous late 60s allegory right there.
I can't remember how old I was the first time I saw Bonnie & Clyde. In my 20s, maybe? Teens? Late '70s-ish?
I had sen Michael J Pollard in, like, "Lost in Space" episodes, or maybe Disney films, and wasn't really prepared for his role here. And the whole thing just blew me away.
LOVE the Jack Warner anecdote. Love it to death. Totally understand why he would think so, too--movies were changing so much and, on paper, this might have looked like "The Roaring Twenties" or something. "They Live by Night." How to predict that it would turn out to be?
Jane Fonda might not have been so bad...
Dunaway had...well, yeah, a kind of innocent delight that I don't know if Fonda would have gotten. But who am I to say? How can I tell how she would have played it? Could any woman be completely tough around Beatty in 1967??
But yeah, think of Fonda in They Shoot Horses, Don't They? Tough as nails, grabbing her own fate no matter how horrible.
Come to think of it, Susannah York might have made an interesting Bonnie although she's all wrong vocally.
And the "people's" reaction to the Barrow gang's exploits - that's certainly New Left, the idea that common folk understood the hopelessness of the system. 'Course that was the case with the James gang as well, though they were racist vigilante murderers and Klan types.
And my neighbor Bill Ayers always wears his "Weather Underground" movie jacket. First time I met him he wouldn't shut up about the Sundance festival, where he'd just been.
Well, I suppose it did strike critics that way at the time...
"What did the hippie say about the Indianapolis 500?"
"They're innocent, every last one of them!"
"Brief."
"10...9...8...7..."
(I'll stop now.)
Does B&C stand the test of time for people as a good movie, or merely an interesting, or historically interesting, one?
The old Hollywood moguls were conservative men, kowtowing to the country's loud and well-organized moralists via a strict "production code." "One basic plot only has appeared daily in their fifteen thousand theaters," the greatest screenwriter of old Hollywood, Ben Hecht, wrote in his 1953 memoir--"the triumph of virtue and the overthrow of wickedness." Hecht was also the inventor of the gangster genre, and wrote of the frustrating constraints under which he was forced to work: "Two generations of Americans have been informed nightly that a woman who betrayed her husband (or a husband his wife) could never find happiness; that sex was no fun without a mother-in-law and a rubber plant around; that women who fornicated just for pleasure ended up as harlots or washerwomen; that any man who was sexually active in his youth later lost the one girl he truly loved; that a man who indulged in sharp practices to get ahead in the world ended in poverty and with even his own children turning on him; that any man who broke the laws, man's or God's must always die, or go to jail, or become a monk, or restore the money he stole before wandering off into the desert; that anyone who didn't believe in God (and said so out loud) was set right by seeing either an angel or witnessing some feat of levitation by one of the characters; that an honest heart must always recover from a train wreck or a score of bullets and win the girl it loved; that the most potent and brilliant of villains are powerless before little children, parish priests or young virgins with large boobies; that injustice could cause a heap of trouble but it must always slink out of town in Reel Nine; that there are no problems of labor, politics, domestic life or sexual abnormality but can be solved happily by a simple Christian phrase or a fine American motto."
Bonnie and Clyde sounded the death knell for all that.
What do they make of Eva Marie Saint's tiny razor?
But man, the censors had dirty minds. I just finished reading about Breen vetting "On the Town" -- nice, wholesome On the Town-- and sternly ordering that they cut the line "They sat all the day just beating their tom-toms" from "Prehistoric Man."
Have you seen The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford, though?
"Sir: Bonnie and Clyde is not a film for adults, and I believe much of its degradation has come from that fact. Adults are used to being entertained in theaters--coming out smiling and humming the title song.... The reason it was so silent, so horribly silent in the theater at the end of the film was because we liked Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, we identified with them, and their deaths made us realize that newspaper headlines are not so far removed from our quiet dorm rooms."
I'm not saying the presentation isn't subversive; but heck, you can trace subversive undermining of the production code at least back to Mae West. Hollywood's always chafed under the strictures (as you say Siren, Hecht's diatribe has an air of bitterness that's a bit over the top), and its most creative people have always fought those impulses in every way. In some ways, really, isn't that the true nature of creativity? Find a repressive stricture... and fight it? This description we're making of Bonnie and Clyde as brave or daring or beyond other films seems to ignore so many things and people (Otto Preminger comes leaping to mind, for instance) that did the yeoman's work of tearing at the code for years under far more restrictive pressures. By 67, much of the force of the code is all but dead, after all (remember, we're what, a year away from Midnight Cowboy?).
Still, I think you're right Rick about kids seeing what they wanted to see... but all I'm saying is, that doesn't make it so; Bonnie and Clyde - and the romance of the outlaw - may have had its place... but it was also misplaced (as was the fascination with violence, which didn't really help or improve the politics of the left). And I think, looking back on it, one can miss that many people saw it, and liked it, without agreeing to all the politics of it. That, after all, is what's so true about the sex appeal of Beatty and Dunaway - there may be more than meets the eye... but look at what meets the eye. And myself, I don't see all that others layer onto Bonnie and Clyde.
My first question is... does Faye Dunaway ever have a naturalistic moment on film? I was surprised, watching it again, that the film I think of as her at some of her most natural turns out to be as mannered and unnatural as all get out. It works, I think, because that's Bonnie - she's all artifice, all put-on, all come-on. I think that same sense of artifice is what got Faye her Oscar for Network - she's best when her inability to be natural works for the character.
I think the French Wave/Nouvelle Vague stuff is as there as it can be in an American film - the film is sexier than so much of American film, often while keeping all its clothes on. And the composition of the images... really very striking, especially for an era where things like dramatic, artful staging were often eschewed.
I still don't see all the "new left" counterculture references; yeah, it's kind of about these two crazy kids as rebel outlaws... but it does make clear that they're violent, that they're at least a little off, and that there's little real romance in killing. What I think really defines the film is that although it's about gangsters... it's really about sex, and not in any kind of subtle way - from topless Faye to "touch my pistol..." - and that's just the first ten minutes. (I'd forgotten that "family photo" moment when Faye - wonderfully costumed - grabs the gun and the cigar; oh yeah... subtle.)
I agree with Siren, ultimately that what's on display most here is beauty.... sheer, untrampled physical attractiveness. There's always an audience for that, though I think by the late sixties, with more "natural" looks coming into Vogue, such extravagent physical beauty was indeed a revelation. I do disagree a bit about the script, because it's best strength is in fact structural; the dialogue is good (but it doesn't always flow naturally, nor do their put-on accents, often), but at times it clunked more than I expected. But the movement of the storytelling, the conveying of things without words... that's great script creation, and I think Benton, for one, excelled at it.
In the end, Bonnie and Clyde still holds a lot of appeal to me, and it holds up damn well (it's Beatty, I think... no one has a right to be that frickin beautiful); still, I think it's imbued with more than it ever was - it's a gangster pic, with some arty Euro touches, but basically as straight up as any film from the genre (I think Warner's a smarter man than people give him credit for being). Three ways and bisexualty? I wish. But it would still be the romance of crime and robbery and sex... and that sells in nearly any package.
But as much as I love the sexual element of B&C I do think it's quite consciously about something more, as Rick is saying above. It's definitely epater les bourgeois.
Director Arthur Penn also broke the old production code's most ironclad rule: show all the shooting you like, but never show what happens on the receiving end. In Bonnie and Clyde, the bullets were shown from first to last--not least in the final shot, Bonnie and Clyde riddled from law enforcement tommy guns in a lowdown and dirty ambush. The New York Times' schoolmarmish film critic Bosley Crowther, aghast that "so callous and callow a film should represent [the] country in these critical times," led the party of the outraged with not one but three attacks in the Paper of Record. Newsweek called it "reprehensible." Film in Review tagged it "dementia praecox of the most pointless sort." Others recollected a generational primal scene. If "you want to see a real killer," Jimmy Breslin wrote in disgust, "then you should have been around to see Lee Harvey Oswald." Tom Wolfe compared its "pornoviolence" to the Zapruder Film. Arthur Penn led his own defense by, more or less, agreeing. He boasted of the black man who emerged from a preview screening and said, "That's the way to go, baby. Those cats were all right." Pauline Kael published 9,000 words saying much the same thing: that "Bonnie and Clyde brings into the almost frighteningly public world of movies what people have been feeling and saying and writing about." Afraid of Bonnie and Clyde? Then you were afraid of the abundance of life.
New Left Notes, the theoretical journal of Students for a Democratic Society, devoted a quarter of <<<an>>> issue to its meaning for the struggle ("We are not potential Bonnies and Clydes, we are Bonnies and Clydes"). ...
One Lynda Bender lives in Peoria. From LinkedIn:
Lynda Bender
Director of Education/Public Programs at Maltz Museum of Jewish Heritage
Cleveland/Akron, Ohio Area
Lynda Bender's Job History
AMT Financial Consultants, Inc.
2005
"We are not potential Bonnnies and Clydes, we are Bonnies and Clydes, the real thing, challenging America in a real and fundamental way (Which BOnniee and Clyde did not do--which makes us exceedingly dangerous.)
"IN its essential element, Bonnie and Clyde is revolutionary because it defines
possible futures for us based on the reality of conditions under which we struggle. The film does not depict a revolutionary ideology. It does much more than that; it defines a revolutionary's lot."
The left is SO much healthier now.
C, I never would have thought of you as a Flatt and Scruggs kind of Southern gal.
"Weird fact - the death car was restored to drivable condition and driven in some sort of cross-country car rally in '87, and the damnedest, most creepy thing I heard from the drivers was the eerie whistling noises it made at speed from all the bullet holes."
god that's spooky, isn't it?
A few comments after reading what everyone else had to say:
1. James Agee had a great line about Miracle of Morgan's Creek. He said Preston Sturges must have raped the Hays Office in its sleep.
2. The Clyde Barrow-type character in Gun Crazy, a man in love with Peggy Cummings, was portrayed by John Dall, a homosexual. The impotent Clyde was played by notorious stud Warren Beatty (an intentional joke).
3. The other day AFI saluted Beatty. I respectfully disagree on his getting this honor and I believe Faye Dunaway should have received it instead. Bonnie and Clyde is his best film and he didn't write or direct it. Reds and McCabe and Mrs. Miller are good but overrated and I HATE Heaven Can Wait. (Here Comes Mr. Jordan is better.) Dunaway did three undisputed classics: Bonnie & Clyde, Network, Chinatown. Beatty was overpraised because he was considered one of the boys, one of the powerful, studly inner circle and Dunaway was put down and overlooked because she was a woman.
4. Someone should ask Shirley MacLaine who Warren was in another life.
5. No argument that Bonnie and Clyde is brilliant. I can never see why some wildly successful collaborators didn't get together again. Orson Welles and Herman Mankiewicz, Citizen Kane. Quentin Tarentino and Roger Avary, Pulp Fiction. Alfred Hitchcock and Anthony Perkins, Psycho. And the whole Bonnie and Clyde gang - Penn, Beatty, Dunaway, Benton, Newman, Towne.