The Hot Rock

Director Peter Yates

ensemble cast photos

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE  HOT ROCK      B                                                                                                               USA  (101 mi)  1972  ‘Scope  d: Peter Yates

A somewhat quirky comedy of errors movie that is a combination of character study and heist film gone wrong that got poor reviews at the time of its release, yet is something of a hidden gem to watch, offering a time capsule of Manhattan in the early 1970’s, with an aerial helicopter shot that beautifully merges the Hudson River with New York City skyscrapers, providing ample evidence of the still-under-construction twin towers of the World Trade Center buildings clearly seen when they were nearing completion.  With more than a hundred novels and non-fiction books to his credit, specializing in crime fiction, Donald E. Westlake had been providing material for some of the better American thrillers for years, usually centered around a single character, where he is perhaps best-remembered for creating two professional master thief criminal characters who each starred in a long-running book series with over a dozen books, starting with the relentless, hardboiled Parker, published under the pen name Richard Stark, where his 1962 novel The Hunter was the source material for John Boorman’s Point Blank (1967), later introducing the more stoic and notably pessimistic John Dortmunder, where bad luck seems to find him, developing the reputation of being jinxed, allowing the author to explore greater aspects of unexpected humor.  Written in 1970, adapted for the movie by heralded screenwriter William Goldman, this was the first of the Dortmunder novels, the protagonist of 14 novels and 11 short stories published between 1970 and 2009, a character known for his careful and meticulous planning, where there’s literally nothing he can’t steal, yet he’s twice been convicted of burglary, where hanging over his head is the knowledge that a third conviction will mean that he will be sent back to prison for the rest of his life with no chance of parole.  Yet moments after his release from his second stint in prison, he’s already plotting the masterplan for a new crime.  According to Westlake, this started out as one of his darker Parker novels, but that “it kept turning funny.”  Essentially a story involving a precious gem that is stolen, lost, reacquired, stolen again, lost again, becoming a revolving door of utter futility, featuring a likable yet bumbling cast of characters, where despite their best efforts, something always seems to go wrong.  In the eyes of British director Peter Yates, who had a short-lived career as as a professional race car driver, he actually preferred this movie to the much more acclaimed Bullitt (1968), proving there’s just no accounting for taste, yet this film accentuates characters who, “like many people, plan things all their lives and never have it work out.”  While the film was surprisingly nominated for an Academy Award for best editing, what stands out is the eloquent and sophisticated quality of the jazz score composed by Quincy Jones, where each of the musicians are listed in the end credits, an unheard of practice at the time. 

Robert Redford plays Dortmunder, having recently learned the trade of plumbing while in prison, met on the outside in a stolen Cadillac by his perky brother-in-law Andy Kelp, George Segal, a locksmith whose cheerful optimism is the polar opposite of Dortmunder’s dour reticence, schmoozing up to him while making immediate suggestions, as a giant African diamond, the Sahara Stone, is currently on display in the Brooklyn Museum, the crown jewel of a former British colony that was recently granted independence and split into two nations, remaining a bone of contention between two rival African nations, unfortunately claimed by both ever since it was stolen during colonial days.  Hired by an unscrupulous United Nations ambassador representing one of the countries, Dr. Amusa (Moses Gunn), Dortmunder hires his team, including Kelp, of course, explosives expert Allan Greenberg (Paul Sand), learning his trade at the Sorbonne and from esteemed college campuses across the country known for expressing political dissent, and the gang’s driver, Stan March (a memorably over-the-top Ron Leibman), a jack-of-all trades who can drive anything, living at home with his cab-driver mother (Charlotte Rae), where his life is consumed by cars, yet his happiest moment is listening to audio LP recordings of the revving engines racing by from the Indianapolis 500 race for relaxation, and virtually every conversation he has includes a wildly detailed account of his most recent excursions in his car.  Despite careful planning, something always goes wrong, and the group must steal the diamond all over again, as the list of items needed keep accumulating expenses, yet the inventive aspects of each heist grow wildly imaginative, where the preposterousness of their daring acts is extraordinary to behold, becoming the template (along with the Ratpack’s original version of OCEAN’S 11 in 1960) for Soderbergh’s Ocean's film series (2001 – 2007), with an all-female spinoff in 2018, along with a host of other heist flicks, becoming an elaborate choreography of outlandish criminal acts mixed with well-known celebrities, recognized for displaying stellar ensemble casts.  The real flavor of this film is just how unlikely the personalities mesh, as they all kind of get on each other’s nerves, yet they’re all skilled at what they do.  Dortmunder, as the master planner, gets no more than the rest, each one distinguishing themselves in their roles, so it’s a carefully calibrated operation where everyone gets an equal share, yet the atmospheric jazz music gives this a cool, laid-back vibe, where the whole thing looks effortless.  The 70’s was a terrific era of American films, (In '70s, movies were more daring, real - Chicago Tribune), with many scholars claiming it was the greatest decade overall due to the arrival of a new young crop of directors, not only New Hollywood, but around the world.  Adding to the illustrious mix of Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Steven Spielberg, and George Lucas would be new talents like Hal Ashby and Alan J. Pakula, Sidney Lumet and Robert Altman, Barbara Loden and Elaine May, John Cassavetes and David Lynch, Gordon Parks and Melvin van Peebles, along with German New Wave legends Rainier Werner Fassbinder, Wim Wenders, and Werner Herzog, just to name a few. 

In an interview with Daily Blender back in 2017, Steven Soderbergh offered some insight into his Ocean’s films, An Interview with Steven Soderbergh | Daily Blender.  “There’s no rational reason why, as a kid, what I would call caper movies would have such an appeal to me.  But they always did.  There’s a great film called ‘The Hot Rock.’  It’s really good.  Robert Redford, 1972.  It’s hilarious.  You’ll see how much of an influence it was on the Ocean’s films.  That sense of humor.  I just like them.  That kind of humor and a sort of puzzle.  It’s something that movies are good for.”  When the film tanked at the box office, Redford blamed it on the British director, known for making action movies, contending this is a small, character-driven comedy filled with American humor that had a difficult time resonating onscreen.  Not so sure that’s true at all, as this is a comedy of misdirection, providing some zany, off-the-wall heists, carried out to perfection, yet something invariably goes wrong, something impossible to plan for, reality perhaps.  They’re such smooth operators that you have to admire their obvious skills, ability to improvise on the spot, and continuously throw others off-track, and while these are career criminals, their perspective is so calculated and so expertly realized that audiences will side with them, turning this into an ensemble buddy movie, where the extreme degree of personal flavor added only adds to our appreciation of them as a group overall.  They’re just a likable bunch, willing to go the extra mile to create and execute ingenious plans that carry a heavy entertainment value, where handing over the new shopping list of their requirements grows increasingly hilarious, and it’s not based on guns and explosions, or heavy gratuitous violence, and no sex to speak of, yet the ability to bring so much character development into the film works wonders, as we feel like we know these guys, having hung out with them for a good part of the film.  But things take a sudden and unexpected turn for the worse when we are introduced to a new character, the larger-than-life, fedora-wearing Zero Mostel as Abe Greenberg, a scene-stealer if ever there was one, a variation of his slimy role of Max Bialystock in THE PRODUCERS (1967), a man who could con anyone out of their money and do it with a smile.  He is the unexpected roadblock that puts the kibosh on all their hard-earned plans, suddenly outsmarted by a venerable old lawyer whose wretchedly underhanded tactics are the picture of corruption and sleaze, so extravagantly unorthodox and evil that even this cabal of thieves must sit back and admire, throwing a monkey wrench into their entire operations.  Mostel is so adorably repugnant that in the theater he would get a standing ovation for his mastery of sheer gall on display, taking a back seat to no one, where in a nod to THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE (1962), a hypnotist named Miasmo (Lynne Gordon) provides the missing ingredient.  Seeing as how this is a breezy, feel-good movie, it all works out in the end.  Bookending the beginning with Redford cautiously walking down the street after he gets out of prison, yet breaking into a playful dance at the end as he so effortlessly strolls across the busy streets and down the heavily populated Manhattan sidewalks of New York, confidently walking a couple of blocks, relishing his celebratory mood to the music of Dixieland, bringing the film to a rollicking curtain-ending close where it will likely leave you with a smile.  

Ordinary People

director Robert Redford on the set with Timothy Hutton

Redford on the set with Donald Sutherland

Redford with Mary Tyler Moore

Redford and Moore with camera operator John Bailey

ORDINARY PEOPLE          A        

USA  (124 mi)  1980  d:  Robert Redford

It’s hard to make an audience care about elitist people growing up in the rich, lily white suburbs who seemingly have all the advantages, an immense, luxurious estate, a steady stream of maid service, vacations in Europe, exclusive schools, college to the school of their kid’s choice, no matter how expensive, parents invited to all the important social gatherings, where it’s hard for them to discover that emotionally, they’re still people, just like anyone else.  When they’re cut, they bleed.  This film shows that no matter what advantages they’ve had, and whatever therapy they can afford, they’re still unprepared to deal with the grief of losing a child.  It’s simply an indescribable horror that would bring any family to their knees.  This film is about that day of reckoning, and begins months after the event when the older, more favored son drowned in a boating accident, while the younger son survived, but it led to a suicide attempt, followed by four months in a psychiatric hospital.  All this happens prior to the beginning of the film, when the son Conrad (Timothy Hutton) has quietly returned to high school and rejoined his former place on the swim team and in the school chorus.  Life goes on.  But Conrad is still haunted by the incident, feeling guilty that he survived when his brother didn’t, and it seems to have taken all the air out of him, where his strength has simply disappeared.  He’s not pleased with his performance on the swim team, his father (Donald Sutherland) seems to be hovering over his every move, while his mother (Mary Tyler Moore) has never felt more distant.   

It’s interesting that Moore and Sutherland are playing against type, as usually Sutherland is remarkably adept at playing demented characters living on the other edge of sanity, see Don't Look Now (1973) or Bertolucci’s 5-hour historical epic 1900 (1976), while Mary Tyler Moore is the picture perfect image of a contented housewife from all those years on the Dick Van Dyke Show (1961 – 1966) and the Mary Tyler Moore Show (1970 – 1977), both huge successes which established her wonderful combination of warmth and comic timing, where if anything, her character always exhibited signs of good common sense.  Not so here, as her way of dealing with the family’s grief is to continually change the subject, even with her own family members.  It’s gotten so bad that Conrad can’t even speak to her anymore, as there’s little else he feels like talking about.  Her idea of “dealing with it” is putting it in the past and moving on, suggesting she and her husband Christmas in London this year, that it would be good for them while Conrad can sit home and attend therapy sessions with his new therapist (Judd Hirsch).  They end up going on a golfing vacation instead, which is her way of dealing with potentially losing yet another son, this time from emotional neglect.  Moore is something of a monster in this film, as she believes it’s her role as a good upstanding socialite wife to put up a good appearance and brave her way through her family’s difficulties, claiming it’s no one else’s business, reminiscent of how the Kennedy clan handled the aftermath of the Presidential assassination, also including bouts with alcohol treatment, mental illness, as well as Chappaquiddick.  The upper crust elite establishment are bred to believe they should always show a façade, a prime example being the Queen of England or Winston Churchill during the war, putting up a stiff upper lip and demonstrate courage under fire.  They’re raised to believe showing feelings is a weakness. 

The problem here is that Conrad is crumbling under that weakness, as other than his therapist, he has no one else to talk to.  Things aren’t as bad as they seem, as he does have a friend from the hospital, but she seems to be recovering more successfully than he is, and there is a girl in the chorus who has taken a special interest in him, Elizabeth McGovern in her first movie role, who couldn’t be more naturalistically open and honest with him, exactly what the doctor ordered, but he’s in too much of a funk to see.  Sutherland is an easy going, get-along kind of guy who tries to befriend everyone, who’s never said an unkind word about anyone, and who probably thought at one time in his life that he was the luckiest guy in the world.  But after they lost their son, the one his wife bestowed all her love and affections upon, there seems to be nothing left now for anyone else.  The well has run dry.  Now it’s all about keeping up appearances.  There is, of course, dramatic heft to this ultimately moving piece, as the actors demonstrate a familiarity with this frigid, emotionally empty territory, and everyone involved has powerful scenes.  One outstanding personal moment shows Conrad after quitting the swim team, which takes some courage, by the way, and meets up with the former teammates after they’ve lost a meet.  After getting into a senseless fight with the air-headed Alpha male of the group (Adam Baldwin), which proves nothing, a friend steps into his car and tries to be a friend, saying he misses his brother as much as anyone, as the three of them used to pal around all the time, but Conrad can’t handle his friendship as it causes him too much pain, and then drives off alone into his own existential fog of endless anguish.  This pretty much describes the dark mood of the entire film, where there isn’t an ending or a solution so much as there is a quiet release. 

What this film is known for is winning the Academy Award for Best Picture over one of Martin Scorsese’s best films, RAGING BULL (1980), which has easily surpassed this film in terms of cinematic significance, while Redford directing his first picture won Best Director as well, which was a real crime, as Scorsese’s film is brilliantly inventive throughout.  Family dysfunction was not openly discussed when this film was released, so it was an eye opener at the time, and while the film continues to pack a punch, still touting exquisite dramatic performances, Redford’s direction is sufficiently solid but unspectacular.  This is a fairly straightforward chamber drama that is unfortunately broken down into a black and white world of good and bad characters, not nearly as memorable as, say Mike Nichols direction of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966).  It does bear some resemblance to Ingmar Bergman’s CRIES AND WHISPERS (1972), an exquisitely directed chamber drama about another wealthy family’s inability to love and show affection to a dying sibling, as the filthy rich were raised so that they never had to actually do anything in their lives except pay to have others perform whatever services they need.  In that case, it’s the family nurse that holds and cuddles and actually caresses the dying sister until her death while the others pretty much stand around looking like wallpaper.  So cinema had certainly taken up this subject before, but not so in American films apparently, especially when there are no easy answers at the end, no happy ending, no easy road to recovery.  The film suggests there will be plenty more sleepless nights, which by itself makes this a genuinely honest and candid look at the trauma of clinical depression and the havoc it plays in our lives.  Families of returning soldiers, dead, maimed, or psychologically altered, deal with this kind of thing all the time but the public rarely sees it, even when it’s the family living next door or across the street.