Like the book upon which it is based, and like the real life events that inspired both their literary and cinematic retelling, the film adaptation of In Cold Blood could never have happened without a lot of deliberate forethought, and more than a few uncanny turns of circumstance that shaped the fate of those involved. At the heart of it all, the entire reason that the two artifacts, book and movie, even exist and continue to exert their morbid fascination a half century later, is a terribly cruel tragedy: the brutal and senseless murder of an innocent family of four who had done nothing at all to bring on such an attack. They just happened to be living at an address that the killers believed to house a big stack of cash, loosely guarded, and sufficient to set them on their way to a life of ease and freedom once they made their cool clean getaway. Viewed in hindsight, the scheme hatched up by Dick Hickock and Perry Smith, a pair of emotionally stunted cellmates in a Kansas penitentiary, seems utterly ludicrous, so ill devised and lacking in substance that it's almost difficult to believe that they took at as seriously as they obviously did. Deadly serious, as it turned out, and followed through with such ruthless intensity, even after their warped fantasy of easy money turned out to be a mirage, that generations of observers would be drawn to try and figure out, through the retelling of the tale, just what drove Dick and Perry to carry out such a merciless, savage attack.
For Perry Smith, most likely the trigger man (though we'll never know for sure) who wielded the shotgun that ended the lives of the Clutter family of Holcomb, Kansas, a chance of diversion from his evil deed was missed when a trusted friend failed to meet him at a bus station shortly before he pursued his alternative plan to connect with Dick Hickock. For the author Truman Capote, his chance venture of leaving the familiar comforts of his metropolitan home in New York City for the windswept plains of western Kansas in order to pursue a sensational story might have never amounted to much if the killers had not made a succession of easily avoidable blunders that resulted in their capture and prosecution for the heinous crimes. And for director Richard Brooks, the film that he made might never have turned out the way it did if he hadn't purchased the rights pretty early on in the book's entry into the mass consciousness of mid-60s USA, insisted on doing it his way, and persuaded Capote and the studios to acquiesce to his demands. As the value of the property grew, Brooks had to fend off significant studio pressures that sought to cast Paul Newman and Steve McQueen as the villains of the story. As much as I respect and admire the charisma and star power of those two legendary actors, their unavoidable aura would have had a paradoxically diminishing effect on this project, in its ability to preserve and communicate the raw, nauseating pettiness of the crimes and the feebleness of the men who perpetrated them.
So despite all the odds against such a film ever being made - after all, basic human decency should have prevented such callous murders from ever occurring in the first place - we still have to grapple with the reality that In Cold Blood actually does exist. A prosperous and upstanding family was slaughtered in the sanctuary of their home on a cold November night in 1959. The murderers, coasting as far as "$43, and a smile, and bullshit" could carry them, eventually (and stupidly) returned close enough to the scene of the crime to be apprehended by the tenacious dragnet set up almost against all odds of them ever being caught. Truman Capote, an incredibly gifted, observant and meticulous writer, took it upon himself to laboriously chronicle a broad spectrum of implications that led up to and spiraled out of the killing, crafted with sufficient skill as to captivate the imagination of a broad public readership when it was finally published within a few months of Smith and Hickock's execution. And Richard Brooks demonstrated shrewd editorial acumen by whittling away so much of Capote's encyclopedic coverage in order to focus primarily on the culprits, and secondarily on the efforts of law enforcement to track them down and bring them to justice. All in all, a brilliant process of distillation that brings today's viewer into fairly close contact with what is in essence a fundamentally baffling and horrifying example of human depravity, accompanied by a convincing display of our species' endlessly resilient determination to set things right and carry on anyway whenever our ugliest tendencies reveal themselves.
There's a lot that I can (and will) say about the details of In Cold Blood, and I will reserve some of that for a podcast that I'll record with Aaron West in another week or so when I join him on his new-ish Criterion Short Cuts program. My main observation for now (and I think I'll continue to craft and expand this post for a few days between now and then) is to remark how pivotal this movie appears to be in the process of allowing American cinema to deliver frank portrayals of the darker aspects of human nature to mature audiences. The film is noted for being the first mainstream release with any kind of a Hollywood connection to use words like "bullshit," "pussy," "faggot" and other vulgarities. That's significant, just for the sake of loosening up the grip of reactionary censors who focused more than necessary on the use of particular words or the depiction of specific acts. More important though was the effect that a film like this one had on allowing artists to strip away the moralistic euphemisms and take deep exploratory plunges into the root causes of abhorrent violence, child abuse, drug and alcohol addiction and self-destructive mental illness. These psychic plagues, fueled by delusional grandiosity, class- and race-based resentment, and a casual indifference toward the value of a human life, infuse just about every scene that features Dick and Perry. When they're not in the picture, we get a portrayal of ordinary, unsuspecting folks either conducting themselves as if oblivious to the danger in their midst, or alarmed citizens now recognizing the threat and doing their best to take appropriate precautions. The blunt reality that everything we see on screen is more or less a wake-up call, and an illustration of ghastly potentials that we all carry within ourselves if circumstances tilt us this way or that, gives In Cold Blood a degree of disturbingly acute relevance that is very difficult to shake off. It cuts closer to the bone than your average movie.
Post-script (12/20/15): I never did really get around to updating this entry, although the comments section dialog I had with Matthew Gasteier probably counts toward that end as far as expanding my thoughts on the film is concerned. In addition to that, I also appeared with Aaron West on his Criterion Short Cuts podcast in a discussion of In Cold Blood that runs a good 45 minutes or so. Anyone who wants to hear more about what Aaron and I have to say about this film is welcome to click this link and give us a listen.
Next: Dont Look Back
My problem with both the book and the movie has always been my inability to see any real purpose for telling the tale beyond, as you say, morbid fascination. I don't think anything was learned by the occurrence of this cruel and pointless crime, nor do I see any actionable (or even philosophical) takeaway from the book or the movie. Both are executed (no pun intended) with remarkable skill, but that skill masks what is for me at its heart no better than your average true crime pulp, and I don't think there's a remarkable difference between something like this and Saw other than the fact that Saw knows what it is while In Cold Blood tries through technique and the excuse that it actually took place to pass itself off as high art. Compare this movie to something like Zodiac, which is a true crime film that is actually about obsession, the nature of truth, and the viewer's own fascination with its subject, and this movie looks pretty exploitative. Actually, it reminds me of a lot of Fincher's lesser films like Panic Room and Gone Girl, where trashy concepts are propped up with virtuoso technique.
ReplyDeleteI know I'm being overly hard on a film that does try to get it right and do justice to all of its subjects, but that's always been my overarching reaction to both works.
You raise a good point about ICB's purpose. Even though I disagree with your assessment that "nothing was learned" (Capote captured a lot of detail that was new to his readers and he was successful in bringing these lurid topics into "respectable" discourse - an important outcome, imo), I think you do put your finger on something significant when you point out the exploitative aspects of the book and subsequent film. I get the sense that Capote took a certain passive-aggressive delight in conveying this shocking material to middle class middle brows, especially the self-appointed guardians of morality in mainstream society. The Clutters were an ideal, archetypal American family who probably would have considered the author a depraved city slicker (or worse) but he's the man who got to tell their story and in a real way deliver their most lastingly famous memorial.
DeleteBut despite that subtext of implicit commercial exploitation of an appalling crime, I think that that the book and the film both served a worthwhile function when they were first released in their exploration of the various elements of the crime and its impact on the surrounding community. Capote constructed a wide-ranging catalog of anecdotes and observations that does provide a detailed snapshot of a more sordid dimension of American life that many people just block out of their consciousness, sometimes for valid reasons. I think Brooks used bravura filmmaking technique to leave a lasting and unsettling impression on viewers, and to that extent, it *is* high art. I think the expansion of cinematic vocabulary (in the mature themes it deals with and the candor of expression) is a big part of the film's legacy, even more than the book. To a certain extent, the film had to rely on its non-fiction origins to gain a foothold against the censors. I'm sure that ICB has been surpassed in many ways by subsequent films, but I still found watching it to be a memorable, thought provoking and aesthetically compelling experience.
I guess I understand the social value of bringing the matter to the attention of people who wouldn't otherwise acknowledge it, but the truly important matters raised in the story - the difficult lives of the killers that led them to such a crime - are secondary in both book and movie to what is in my mind the pure exploitation of the actual crime, which was so rare, random, and isolated as to only merit attention because we are drawn to such stories through our darkest fears. Furthermore, I don't think any social value in bringing attention to a subject should be brought to bear on judging the work as a piece of art or even basic cinema at a later date when these things are more broadly accepted. I think the book gets off a little easier (though I totally agree with your assessment of Capote's dark delight) because it has more time to dwell on the "respectable" elements of the story. In movie form, though, it just felt a little dirty. I do, however, agree that this film was a major gateway drug to New Hollywood, and the trojan horse of Capote's literary credibility helped paved the way for films that dealt with violence in ways that I found more challenging and ultimately more rewarding. I don't question the movie's value in film history, I just resent its continued ability to be passed off as high art when it's really just an impeccably crafted version of the nightly news (with tonight in particular a sad example).
DeleteOK I went over to your blog and I do see that you despise Straw Dogs and Man Bites Dog, and you distance yourself from the "transgression for transgression's sake" appeal of Salo, so good for you - you're consistent in your disdain for films that exploit violence in a "dirty" way! ;) I also checked out your reviews of Imamura (thanks for the shout-out in that review of The Pornographers, btw), Oshima, etc. I think I get a better sense of where your coming from with this critique. I think we both agree that In Cold Blood is far from the most exploitative/"dirtiest" film released by Criterion. I intend to pursue this conversation with Aaron next week when we record our podcast about this film.
DeleteYes, absolutely would never put In Cold Blood in the same category as those three. It's funny, I actually hate Man Bites Dog the most of those, but I also think it is the least repugnant, possibly because I think Peckinpah and Pasolini had more to say - I just despised what they were saying! Man Bites Dog is both offensive and a bad movie, in my opinion.
ReplyDeleteI will mention, though, that I am a big fan of The Wild Bunch, I like Irreversible to a certain degree, and Fat Girl worked pretty well for me, so I'm not totally opposed to this sort of film. But I think all three of those movies have a very specific purpose that is largely effective.
I'm also a big fan of Wes Craven and I like a lot of grindhouse stuff and foreign horror, but all that stuff knows what it is and doesn't try to pretend like it's not.