Reviewed by Glenn Erickson
Truman Capote's book In Cold Blood was a sensation of the 60s. Readers were used to
emotionalism and polemics when reading about crime, and Capote took one of the more notorious
mass murders of the late 50s and approached it from dual perspectives - the hard, adult facts
of the case, down to the tiniest detail, and a parallel philosophical investigation of the
meaning, if any, to be found behind the crime.
Richard Brooks was a talented writer-director who tended to over-write and overstate his case
time and again, saving himself through excellent story judgment and great casting. In Cold Blood
is one of his best and most controversial films. His docu detachment is true to Capote's
unemotional aim, and his 'psychological' embellishments work rather well most of the time. Forty
years later there's an entire shelf-ful of 'semi-documentary' serial killer movies that
catalog heinous true crimes without comment, and they're taken as horror entertainment. Like Capote,
Brooks may have been a progressive eager to pose Big Questions - "Is capital punishment murder?" -
but at least he saw that there were questions to ask.
Synopsis:
Parolee Dick Hickock (Scott Wilson) links up with parolee Perry Smith (Robert Blake)
to steal 10,000 from a rich farmer's safe, kill all the witnesses, and retire to a life of ease.
Their victims, the Clutters of Holcomb, Kansas are an ordinary family with problems and hopes. At
2 AM, their attackers arrive and walk into the unlocked house armed with a shotgun and a knife.
1967 reviews of In Cold Blood treated it as a horrible, taboo-breaking semidoc for which
ordinary citizens weren't ready. They praised its realism, the excellent acting, and especially
Richard Brooks' unusual script. But the grim subject matter wasn't something to get excited about;
most coverage treated the film as a symptom, not a movie. This was the year of
Bonnie & Clyde and Point Blank and many reviewers were concerned that movies in
general were taking a turn toward pornographic extremes of violence. One review I read of
In Cold Blood talked more about the real crimes than those on screen. I got an image of one
of Hickok and Smith's victims head's being blown off as they sat up in bed, with the gore splattered
across two yards of wallpaper. For years I thought a scene like that was in the movie.
That kind of excess doesn't happen in In Cold Blood, not a bit. But the atmosphere of
incipient violence makes Brooks' reserve seem horrible just the same. One of the killers describes
himself almost immediately as a 'natural born killer', but it would be decades before a filmmaker
would make the subject into a circus-y celebration of bloodlust.
Brooks' approach was to film his crime saga in the actual locations where the crime happened, including
the murder house. This was promoted in the advertising and added both to the macabre atmosphere and
the docu aspect. We see big stretches of Kansas and pieces of various deserts (that all look to have
been filmed just North of LA; I can see the hill that the Tarantula! crawls over in one
roadside view).
But he doesn't use non-actors. Robert Blake and Scott Wilson are excellent as the pitiful
losers who only become lethally murderous when linked as a pair, feeding on each other's psychopathology.
Wilson
(The Gypsy Moths) is a slick hick, smooth
enough to con unsuspecting store clerks but also enough of an idiot to fall for tall tales of farmers
hiding loot in their houses. Blake is a thoroughly pathetic sad sack with complexes about his
miserable family life and his lack of height. He's so naive, he believes in a screwy treasure hunt
idea off the coast of the Yucatan.
Equally good are the killers' fathers. Jeff Corey and Charles McGraw are noir veterans with
solid parts. Without making sentimental cases, they remind us that even the killers have family
members who think about them.
The Clutters seem like non-actors, but 3 out of four were stage veterans that went on to extensive
film careers as character actors.
On the side of the law, we have familiar G-Men character actors taking the roles of the cops and
agents searching for the killers, but Brooks gives them more sympathetic parts to play. The main sleuth
is John Forsythe, then well-known as the genial star of TV's Bachelor Father. He's an
agent of a federal law-enforcement agency called the FKI, clearly so-chosen because the FBI didn't
approve of the movie. 1
Forsythe is often as tight-lipped and task-oriented as the rest of the cast, but on more than
one occasion he's used to voice 'author's opinions', as when he takes a newspaperman to task for
how the police are treated during crimes like this one.
The real author's mouthpiece is Paul Stewart's Jenson, a reporter affiliated with a major magazine
but covering the crime on his own. Jenson is clearly the Truman Capote figure. He makes himself
an objective fly on the wall and from time to time delivers up sage pronouncements about capital
punishment. In a movie bereft of moral judgment and editorial comment, we snap
up these nuggets like wisdom from the mount.
Brooks pulls a narrative trick that sustains suspense while increasing the dread
factor. The film skips over the actual crime just as the killers are arriving at the Clutter spread,
cutting instead to the panicked reaction the next morning when their bodies are discovered. Thus,
the growing awe around the murders is reflected in the faces of the locals and cops who must clean
up the mess and sift through the clues. Since we haven't seen their murders, the foolish fugitives retain
a minimum sympathy as they criss-cross the country in stolen cars. Then, when one of them makes a
full narrative confession during a nighttime car trip, we finally see the crime itself, as the opening
curtain of the third act.
After that, the trial and the execution wait are uneventful formalities that seem unrelated to the
tragedy and carnage. The intent seems to be to show the state's parallel brutality in 'murdering'
the criminals, but if Brooks wanted to push the anti-capital punishment issues, he makes few
converts. No matter how pitiful they are, Hickock and Smith are dangerous vermin and we want them
safely dead.
We start In Cold Blood thinking we're in for a sleazy ride, but it turns out to be
artistically valid and socially responsible.
Under the self-restraint of his docu format, Richard Brooks' direction here is excellent. Every time
we go into a flashback, or one of Robert Blake's fantasies, we think the film is going to fall apart,
but the tangent just enriches the experience. Robert Blake is given an elaborate background of bad
parenting and adolescent trauma, but the treatment is so expert, it doesn't come off as bad liberal
excuse-making.
The only
shot I just don't understand is an angle of a high-speed train dropping off mail bundles as it
roars through the Holcomb station, seen just as emergency vehicles are rushing to the crime scene.
Is it just an irrelevant tension builder? Some kind of link to Bad Day at Black Rock? Or is it
the most exciting event in Holcomb on days that horrible murders don't occur?
Conrad Hall's B&W images are practically perfect, and Hitchcock designer Robert Boyle makes every
setting more than believable, especially the Clutter house with its drab basement and (?) upstairs
kitchen. Best of all is Quincy Jones' light jazz score, that never intrudes but has a subtle effect on
many tense scenes.
Columbia Tristar's DVD of In Cold Blood is a good transfer of a clean B&W Panavision element.
The grayscale is full, and the image reasonably sharp. Audio is very good as well. The only extra
is an attention-grabbing trailer.
On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor,
In Cold Blood rates:
Movie: Excellent
Video: Very Good
Sound: Very Good
Supplements: trailer
Packaging: Keep case
Reviewed: September 21, 2003
Footnote:
1. Did you know that the FBI
routinely screened movies where characters were identified as FBI agents, and enforced the right to
monitor their image? In the movie The President's Analyst various actors are clearly saying
'FBI ' and 'CIA', but the filmmakers had to change what they said to 'FBR' and "CEA'. This is the
result of 'unofficial' cooperation by government agencies that extend or withhold
valuable assistance for films depending on how the script reads. In this case, the FBI may have had
problems with the 'story' - routine police work solved the crime, and not FBI wizardry. But Edgar J.
may also have objected to 'liberal' filmmaker Brooks or the presence of blacklisted actors Will
Geer and Jeff Corey. Return
DVD Savant Text © Copyright 2007 Glenn Erickson
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