Review – Dog Day Afternoon

October 13, 2010

Dog Day Afternoon – U.S., 1975

Sidney Lumet’s masterful film Dog Day Afternoon begins with a series of shots of ordinary people doing what they normally do, and it is in these opening moments that one of the film’s themes is firmly established. What we are about to see occurs in a world divided into dualities. There’s the rich and the poor; the young and the old; those who days consists of eight-hours of sweat and toil and those whose hours are spent joyfully riding the waves. And then there are the neighborhoods themselves – some are poorly-lit and littered with scraps of discarded newspapers; others are so clean that the rays of the afternoon sun create an almost immaculate glow around them. Later, additional contrasts are presented to us, and as the film progresses, it becomes clear that the events that we are witnessing are in a way an irrational reaction to the inequality and the injustice that those contrasts in society have created. This does not excuse the actions of the film’s main characters, yet it does put them into a somewhat sympathetic light. Right reasons – wrong response.

Dog Day Afternoon is the true story of a bank robbery gone wrong. In the film’s opening scene, three men walk into a bank just before closing time with the intent of walking out ten minutes later with a bag full of cash. It’s a disaster from the very beginning. Sonny Wortzik (an amazing performance by Al Pacino), the ringleader of the group, has a hard time getting his shotgun out of a box; another member of the group gets cold feet just seconds after the robbery begins and asks to leave. Only the third one, Sal (Jon Cazale), is composed – too composed, in fact. From the very beginning, we sense that this is the dangerous one, the one most capable of making a bad situation much worse. And things indeed get worse. Most of the bank’s money has already been picked up, the female bank tellers are unwilling to go into the vault when asked to, and then there’s the unexpected call from a police detective (Charles Durning) across the street telling him that the bank is already surrounded. None of this bodes particularly well for Sonny and Sal, and yet the afternoon is just getting started.

In addition to its perfect pace and the incredible performances of the entire cast, one of the things that makes Dog Day Afternoon so intriguing is the way it leaks information about Sonny and Sal slowly. At first, they seem like everyday thieves, but as the film progresses that picture slowly begins to erode. We learn that they both fought in Vietnam, that Sal has been in jail and doesn’t want to go back, that Sonny has a wife and two kids, and, perhaps most alarming of all, that Sal and Sonny have a pact – It’s success or death. Much more is revealed which I won’t spoil. I will say though that with each revelation, the tragedy of what is unfolding in front of us grows exponentially.

Dog Day Afternoon came out in 1975, eighteen years after A Face in the Crowd, Elia Kazan’s film about Larry “Lonesome” Rhodes, a man who alone succumbs to the corruptive nature of money and suffers extreme delusions of grandeur. What’s interesting about what we see in Dog Day Afternoon is that everyday people, ecstatic at getting the opportunity to be on TV, gladly take part in Sonny’s delusions. A pizza delivery man declares himself a star simply because he delivers pizza to Sonny and the employees of the bank; the senior bank teller cheerfully answers questions from a reporter while still being held hostage. When she returns inside the bank, she can’t resists excitedly telling her co-workers that she was on TV. News anchors even calls the bank and conduct live interviews with Sonny, a man that they know is armed and dangerous. As for Sonny himself, he begins to take on the persona of a lively and comic “man of the people,” as if he is somehow fighting for the underdogs of the world. The crowd outside, as well as the ladies on the inside, does his no favors by responding and encouraging Sonny’s distorted image of himself, for it lulls him into a false sense of security, allowing him to think that everyone but the authorities is behind him. This is simply not the case.

One of the truly remarkable things about Dog Day Afternoon is how little time has affected it. Sure, it looks like it is taking place in the 1970’s, but it’s easy to see a situation like this occurring in New York in the 1980’s or Los Angeles in the 1990’s. In addition, the crowd’s inability to turn away from the train wreck they are witnessing and the obsession with fame that some of the characters in the film have are eerily similar to the actions of some people during the recent tragedy in the Philippines and of many of the people who yearn to be on reality TV shows, reveal family secrets on daytime talk shows, or put videos of themselves on YouTube. Perhaps Dog Day Afternoon captured the beginning of this fixation.

The end of Dog Day Afternoon reminded me a bit of the final scene in Michael Curtiz’s 1938 film Angels with Dirty Faces starring the great James Cagney. In that film, the audience must decide for themselves whether James Cagney’s character, Rocky Sullivan, is pretending to be afraid or not, and there’s no easy answer. Nor is there an easy explanation for the tears that flow at the end of Dog Day Afternoon. Who are they for? What do they imply? I suppose the answer to that will ultimately determine how you view Sonny, yet I don’t think there will ever be a consensus of opinion. Sonny is just too complicated a character for that to be possible. (on DVD)

4 and a half stars

Review – And Justice For All

February 15, 2010

And Justice For All – U.S., 1979

Norman Jewison’s 1979 film And Justice For All is not a courtroom drama. It does not rely on the sudden appearance of a surprise witness to stir up drama, nor does it end with a verdict, at least not one a traditional one. It even forgoes the commonly used storyline of crime, arrest, trial, and verdict, followed by a quick prologue focusing on either the courageous lawyer or the now free defendant. Instead, we get one lawyer with multiple cases, each one a piece of a fractured legal system that seems impossible to assemble perfectly. Maybe it has always been this way; however, it certainly was not intended to be.

And Justice For All centers on Arthur Kirkland (Al Pacino), a decent man in a sometimes dirty line of work. Throughout the film, he struggles to cope with the surprising reality that justice and law are sometimes incompatible. His long-time client Carl Traverse (Dominic Chianese) can’t seem to avoid trouble, whether the trouble comes as a result of a traffic accident or his penchant for extra-marital affairs. Fortunately for him, he’s one of the one’s that the court system seemingly works for every time – he has money. Other clients are not so lucky. Jeff McCullaugh (Thomas G. Waites) languishes in a jail, not because he has committed a crime or because Kirkland is incompetent as a lawyer, but because the evidence necessary to exonerate him was submitted three days late. A third client, first-time offender Ralph Agee (Robert Christian), may or may not have psychological problems; however, one this is clear – prison would utterly destroy him, and so Kirkland works feverishly to produce a deal to keep him out of jail.

McCullaugh’s fate, it turns out, is in the hands of Judge Henry T. Fleming (John Forsythe), a man who confesses to not caring one bit for the people who come before him looking for either justice or mercy. I suppose that is why he can so callously adhere to the law even when doing so inflicts pain on the innocent. In an unexpected turn of events, Fleming later finds himself in need of a lawyer after being accused of rape, and he turns to Kirkland, whom he had earlier briefly locked up for throwing a punch at him, for legal representation. Fleming reasons that it would help to be represented by Kirkland, a man known for his ethics and moral code, for being represented by a man who has such animosity towards him would send a powerful message about his innocence. It all makes perfect sense, but we get the feeling that there’s more to the story than that.

To make matters even more chaotic, there is also an ongoing ethics committee hearing that seeks to root out lawyers who are derelict in their duties. What exactly this means is never explained, but it seems that as long as a lawyer or judge follows the letter of the law, he’s safe. Looked at in this light, Judge Fleming is an exemplary judge, as is Kirkland’s friend, Judge Francis Rayford (Jack Warden), who carries loaded firearms into court and does not even attempt to hide his suicidal tendencies. All that seems to matter is that he’s a “good” judge.

And Justice For All, written by Valerie Curtain and Barry Levinson, does a excellent job of presenting all of these storylines, as well as a few other ones. And through them, we get a picture of an extremely imperfect legal system. We see or hear of lawyers who are afraid of their clients, district attorneys who make backroom deals, and guilty men who are exonerated in court and released back into society. Kirkland is our eyes and ears into this world, and Pacino, at times appearing exhausted and worn-down, plays Kirkland as a man coping with subtle inner rage. Is this really the noble profession his grandfather worked so hard for him to become part of?

It is no surprise that And Justice For All ends with a courtroom showdown, for Kirkland’s act of defiance has become part of our vernacular. I remember hearing Damon Wayons recite it years ago on In Living Color. One could expect then for the ending to be a bit of a letdown or at the very least predictable. It is not, and the credit for that belongs to Curtain and Levinson’s excellent script and to Pacino’s incredible performance. Watch it again. As Kirkland begins to address the jury, he seems to be intending to do his job, to be the kind of lawyer that the ethics committee would pat on the back and commend without any reservations. And then, something changes. His voice slips a bit, and sweat begins to appear on his forehead. There are interruptions, objections that disrupt his momentum. He could easily stop, yet he doesn’t. He picks up where he left off, but instead of gaining in determination or steadfastness, Kirkland’s voice continually shifts, raising in volume one moment, lowering to a whisper the next, and his face tears up. When he finally does shout, it seems to me that he does so in frustration and exhaustion, not because he thinks he can change the profession he has worked in for twelve years. It’s a remarkable moment, and one that few actors could pull off as convincingly as Pacino.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the strength of the relationships in the film. In many film, relationships are treated as ad-ons, something included just because the genre calls for them. However, every relationship in the film, from Kirkland’s relationship with his grandfather to his relationships with his girlfriend Gail Packer (Christine Lahti) and his partner Jay Porter (Jeffrey Tambor), is believable and relevant to the story. In lesser hands, this many storylines could have been confusing. In Director Norman Jewison’s, they are pieces of a complex symphony played to near perfection. And Justice For All is a truly great American film. (on DVD)

4 stars