University of Virginia Library

CINEMA

At Last, A Good 'Picture Show'

By PAUL CHAPLIN

1971 was an unusually
dismal year for American films.
Promising young directors had
been hired by Hollywood to
make powerful films appealing
to a massive youth audience.
The results were critical and
financial bombs, which
frequently went unnoticed,
closing quickly in New York
and not playing elsewhere.

Even the list of fairly decent
films was quite small, and few
films proved to be as satisfying
or entertaining as one might
have hoped. What had
happened since 1969-70 when
American directors presented
films like "Alice's Restaurant,"
"Easy Rider," "They Shoot
Horses," "Midnight Cowboy,"
"MASH," "Patton," and
others?

One could conjecture that
the massive megacorporations
(Kinney - National,
Gulf-Western) didn't know
how to make films, and the
older studios (Fox and Metro)
were engaged in bitter power
struggles which fostered ill-will
and disastrous working
conditions for film-makers.

It was in December that
1971 suddenly exhibited what
was definitely the best
American film of that year,
and possibly the most
influential film since Arthur
Penn's "Bonnie and Clyde"
made Americans acknowledge
the legitimacy of an
artistically "new" American
cinema. The film was Peter
Bogdanovich's "The Last
Picture Show," which was

recently slapped in the face by
the voting members of the
Academy Awards.

Based on Larry McMurtry's
novel, "The Last Picture
Show" tempts one to classify it
as a genre film about
growing-up and discovering the
difference between sex and
love and the problems involved
in coping with humans. The
subject is hardly alien to screen
audiences, having seen Wes
Stern discover Jacqueline
Bisset in "The First Time," or
witnessed the nostalgia of
"Summer of '42," or the bitter
emptiness of Mike Nichols' and
Jules Feiffer's "Carnal
Knowledge."

Bogdanovich's film,
however, also has similarities
with "Peyton Place," as critic
Pauline Kael noted, yet the
differences among all these
films make this film the quiet
masterwork it is. There is no
sloppy sensationalism in the
film's treatment of the various
inner-relationships of Anarene,
Texas; this is not a small town
of erupting sexual passions, but
a town of understatement.
Bogdanovich successfully creates
this impression on the screen
with every action seeming
natural, but equally revealing,
so we know exactly what is
going on within the lives of the
protagonists.

The characters are by no
means stereotyped, although
the town beauty, Jacy Farrow,
comes close to resembling a
type. Perhaps this is because
Jacy is so familiar to the
audience. She is the girl who is
beautiful and sets every male
heart pounding, while her rivals
are obviously aware of her
coldness and potential cruelty.

This objectiveness in
characters and situations
further enhances the picture.
Jacy is seen as she is, as is
Sonny's initiation into sexual
awareness. There are no
soft-filter focusing devices,
such as those which turned
"Summer of '42" into the
sugary fluff it was. When
Sonny makes love to a married
woman, the bed creaks, he is
visibly nervous, and tears
trickle down the woman's face
as she apologizes, "I'm sorry I
cried; I guess I was just
scared."

Later in the film when Jacy
and her beau are in a motel,
the entire high school is lined
up outside waiting to hear the
results, but when nothing
happens she forbids him from
leaving right away,
commanding "You'd better
not tell one soul, either. You
just pretend it was wonderful."

There is a feeling of
sentimentality, however, in
some incidents and characters.
Sam the Lion is lovingly
viewed as a father figure by
Sonny and his friend Duane,
yet he is a poor model for the
young men. He has one shining
moment at a lake when he
speaks of the one woman he
loved, and how "You wouldn't
believe how this land has
changed."

It is 1951 and the only
source of entertainment in the
town, the Royal Movie
Theatre, is closing as Duane
goes off to Korea. There are
scenes in the theatre which
show the boys enjoying the
films, and day-dreaming about
them. When Sonny is necking
with an unattractive girl,
Elizabeth Taylor's image in
"Father of the Bride" fills the
screen as a goddess of perfect
and unattainable beauty. The
last picture show is Howard
Hawkes' epic "Red River," and

Bogdanovich selects the heroic
and monumental montage that
depicts the start of a cattle
drive, an image which becomes
a yearning for a past time and a
homage to an American
director.

Bogdanovich's selection of
Hawkes' film is hardly
accidental. Prior to becoming a
director he was a critic,
instrumental in re-evaluating
the work of John Ford,
Howard Hawkes, Fritz Lang
and other directors.

In the tradition of
the "American School;" the
film is uncluttered. There are
no trick shots, zooms, slow
motion or rapid editing
sequences; the technique and
direction are best described as
"conservative." Taking a
gamble, the film is masterfully
photographed by Robert
Surtees in black and white,
creating a sense of period and a
visual eloquence which only
recently has been captured in
color photography.

Collaborating with
McMurtry, Bogdanovich wrote
the screenplay, and, from the
selections I've read, it is true to
the dialogue to the novel. The
film's scenes of comedy,
however, owe their
effectiveness to Bogdanovich
he director. At a nude
swimming party, Jacy cannot
decide whether to remove her
bra or panties first. The strip
episode covers about three
pages, but Bogdanovich's
confident direction makes this
scene brief. He maintains the
feeling of Jacy's uncertainty
while developing the comic
potential of the episode as
well.

The cast is also confident
and uniformly outstanding.
Timothy Bottoms as Sonny has
perhaps the saddest eyes the
world has ever seen. His acting
could slip into relying only on
his facial expression, but never
does so. Jeff Bridges, carrying
on a family tradition, plays
Duane with a perfect blend of
athletic cockiness and
ignorance, which makes him a
faithful but cuckolded lover.

Cybill Shepherd is
thoroughly believable as the
young bitch Jacy, and Ellen
Burstyn gives her mother
recognizable traits which are
the obvious inspiration for
Jacy's behavior. Equally
impressive are Ben Johnson as
Sam, Eileen Brennan as the
hard-mouthed waitress
Genevieve, and Cloris
Leachman, as the older married
woman, Ruth.

"The Last Picture Show" is
a narrative film, which really
doesn't have a plot, which
moves along a traditional
pyramid of tragedy to a final
catastrophe. The film is rather
like a line moving from
incident to incident, and
quietly ending as it began. And
Bogdanovich's ending is
perfectly justified, for these
people are leading desolate
lives in a moribund dust bowl
town. There are no real outlets
for Sonny to choose for escape
from Anarene and the
stagnation the town represents.

But the film is not tragic.
When the Royal Theatre closes,
an era ends in Anarene, but
only three people—Sonny,
Duane, and Billy- are present to
view the film. Life will go on in
that small town, and Sonny
will not be able to change. The
times will have to change, and
as they do, the mind and
atmosphere of the town will
change, and one might hope
the emptiness, loneliness, and
confusion of adolescence will
be easier to accept.

(Now at the University)