Saturday Night At the Movies: Prince of the city --- RIP Sidney Lumet

Saturday Night At The Movies

Prince of the City: R.I.P. Sidney Lumet

By Dennis Hartley

I was saddened to hear the news about Sidney Lumet, who died earlier today at the age of 86. We have truly lost one of the great filmmakers of our time with his passing. The term “actor’s director” gets thrown around a lot (I’m guilty of that myself), but he was THE actor’s director. With a Lumet film, you may not necessarily expect a lot of stylized visual flash, but you may always expect a cast working at 110% of their potential. He knew how to tell a good story, without relying on bells and whistles-and that takes someone who is supremely confident in their craft. In his 50+ year long career (he cut his teeth working in television drama during its much vaunted “Golden Age”) he managed to collaborate with almost everybody who was anybody in the acting world; indeed many of them clamored to work with him. It is possible, however, that his most ubiquitous and most consistently fruitful artistic partner over the years was not a person, but a city. That would be New York City, of course, which served as the backdrop for so many of his classic films. Woody Allen aside, I don’t think there are any other directors who have had such a wonderfully symbiotic relationship with the Big Apple. At the end of the day, it’s the work that speaks for itself. So without further ado, I have assembled my Top 10 Lumet films for your perusal this evening. I could easily assemble a Top 25, because I so admire and respect this man’s work. So-here goes, in alphabetical (not preferential) order:

The Anderson Tapes- In Lumet’s gritty 1971 heist caper, Sean Connery plays an ex-con, fresh out of the joint, who masterminds the robbery of an entire NYC apartment building. What he doesn’t know is that the job is under close surveillance by several interested parties, official and private. It’s one of the first films that I know of to ruminate on the insidious encroachment of electronic monitoring technology into our daily lives and the resulting loss of privacy (The Conversation was still just a gleam in Francis Ford Coppola’s eye in 1971). Nice ensemble work from a fine cast that includes Dyan Cannon, Martin Balsam, Ralph Meeker, Alan King and Christopher Walken (in his first major feature film role). The tough, smart script was adapted from the Lawrence Sanders novel by Frank Pierson, and an exemplary Quincy Jones score puts a nice bow on the package.

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead-It’s a real testament to Lumet’s gift that his very last film (which he made in 2007, at the age of 82) was just as vital and powerfully affecting as any of his best work over the course of his 50+ year career. Strongly recalling The King of Marvin Gardens, it’s a nightmarish neo-noir-cum Greek tragedy, starring Philip Seymour Hoffman as a stressed-out businessman with bad debts and very bad habits, which leads him to take desperate measures. He enlists his not-so-bright brother (Ethan Hawke) into helping him pull an extremely ill-advised heist that involves a business owned by their elderly parents (Rosemary Harris and Albert Finney). As frequently occurs in this genre, things go horribly wrong. Great work from the entire cast.

Dog Day Afternoon-Attica! Attica! As far as oppressively humid hostage dramas go, this 1975 “true crime” classic from Lumet easily out-sops the competition. The air conditioning may be off, but Al Pacino is definitely “on” in his absolutely brilliant portrayal of John Wojtowicz (“Sonny Wortzik” in the film), whose botched attempt to rob a Brooklyn bank turned into a dangerous hostage crisis and a twisted media circus (the desperate Wojtowicz was trying to finance his lover’s sex-change operation). Even though he had already done the first two Godfather films, this was the performance that put Pacino on the map. John Cazale is both scary and heartbreaking in his role as Sonny’s dim-witted “muscle”. Keep an eye out for Chris Sarandon’s memorable cameo. Frank Pierson’s whip-smart screenplay was based on articles by P.F. Kluge and Thomas Moore.

Fail-Safe- Dr. Strangelove…without the laughs. This no-nonsense thriller from 1964 takes a more clinical look at how a similar wild card scenario (in this case, a simple hardware malfunction) could trigger a nuclear showdown between the Americans and the Russians. Talky and a little bit on the stagey side; but riveting nonetheless thanks to Lumet’s skillful pacing (and that trademark knack for bringing out the best in his actors), Walter Bernstein’s intelligent screenplay (with uncredited assistance from Peter George, who had also co-scripted Dr. Strangelove) and a superb cast that includes Henry Fonda, Walter Matthau, Fritz Weaver, and Larry Hagman. There’s no fighting in this war room, but plenty of suspense. The film’s haunting denouement is chilling and unforgettable.

Network- Back in 1976, this satire made us chuckle with its outrageous conceit-the story of a “fictional” TV network who hits the ratings g-spot with a nightly newscast turned variety hour, anchored by a self-proclaimed “angry prophet denouncing the hypocrisy of our time”. Now, 35 years later, it plays like a documentary (denouncing the hypocrisy of our time). The much vaunted prescience of the infinitely quotable Paddy Chayefsky screenplay goes much deeper than merely prophesizing the onslaught of news-as-entertainment (and its evil spawn, “reality” television)-it’s a blueprint for our age. In the opening scene, drunken buddies Peter Finch (as Howard Beale, respected news anchor soon to suffer a complete mental breakdown and morph into “the mad prophet of the airwaves”) and William Holden (as Max Shumacher, head of the news division for the fictional “UBS” network) riff cynically on an imaginary pitch for a surefire news rating booster-“Real live suicides, murders, executions-we’ll call it The Death Hour.” A funny punch line back in 1976; sadly, in 2011 we call it the “Nancy Grace Show”. Faye Dunaway steals all of her scenes as Diana Christenson, the soulless, ratings obsessed head of development who cooks up a scheme to turn Beale’s mental illness into revenue (“You’re television incarnate, Diana.”) The most famous scene, of course is Beale’s “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore” tirade, a call to arms (borne from a “cleansing moment of clarity”) for viewers to turn off the tube, break the spell of their collective stupor, literally stick their heads out the window and make their voices heard (it’s no accident that Beale’s visage graces Digby’s masthead). For me, the most defining scene in the film is between Beale and Arthur Jensen (CEO of “CCA”-wonderfully played by Ned Beatty). Jensen is calling Beale on the carpet for publicly exposing a potential buyout of CCA by shadowy Arab investors. Cognizant that Beale is crazy as a loon, yet still a cash cow for the network, Jensen uses reverse psychology and hands him a new set of stone tablets from which to preach-the “corporate cosmology of Arthur Jensen”. It is screenwriter Chayefsky’s finest moment, savagely funny and spot on. Lumet’s most inspired and enduring movie is required viewing…on a continuous loop.

The Pawnbroker- This brooding character study from 1964 is a textbook example of the “social realism” movement in American film that flourished at the time. Rod Steiger delivers a searing performance as a Holocaust survivor, suffering quite severely from what we would now identify as “PTSD”, who runs a pawn shop. Hostile, paranoid and completely insular, Steiger’s character is a walking powder keg, needled daily not only by haunting memories of the concentration camp, but by the fear and dread that inundates the tough, crime-ridden NYC neighborhood where his business is located. When he finally comes face-to-face with the darkest parts of his soul, and the inevitable breakdown ensues, it’s expressed in a literal “silent scream” that is arguably the most astonishing moment in Steiger’s already impressive canon of astonishing on-screen moments. Morton S. Fine and David Friedkin adapted their screenplay from Edward Lewis Wallant’s novel.

The Prince of the City-Lumet revisited the subject of New York City police corruption in this powerfully acted piece based on the true story of narcotics detective Robert Leuci (“Daniel Ciello” in the film), whose life got completely turned upside down after he agreed to cooperate with a special commission. Treat Williams delivers his finest dramatic performance to date as the conflicted cop, who is initially promised that he will never be forced to “give up” any of his partners in the course of the investigation. But you know what they say about he road to Hell being paved with “good intentions”, right? This is one of the best films ever made about big city politics (prior to HBO’s outstanding series, The Wire, which I felt to be a direct descendant of the Lumet oeuvre). Superb performances from everyone in the sizable cast (especially Jerry Orbach) Lumet co-wrote the screenplay with Jay Presson Allen, which they adapted from Richard Daley’s book.

Serpico-Sidney Lumet and Al Pacino go together like soup and sandwich, and this 1973 collaboration between director and star (their first) was the one that set the table. Pacino gets to chew a lot of scenery here as Frank Serpico, an altruistic NYC cop who helps expose the rampant corruption within the department (much to the chagrin of his fellow cops, who come to regard him as a pariah). As per usual, Lumet wrings top-notch performances from his actors, and makes excellent use of NYC locales (captured in all their gritty glory by DP Arthur J. Ornitz, who did the cinematography for a number of “quintessentially New York” films, including A Thousand Clowns, The World of Henry Orient, The Boys in the Band, Next Stop Greenwich Village and An Unmarried Woman). Writers Waldo Salt and Norman Wexler adapted from the book by Peter Maas.

12 Angry Men-This is the film that put Lumet on the map as a feature film director. The narrative setup is fairly simple. A Latino boy is on trial, accused of killing his father. His fate lies in the hands of a 12-man jury. Since we are not presented with many details about the trial itself, the film’s dramatic tension lies in the hands of the one juror who happens to hold a dissenting opinion (Henry Fonda). His subsequent attempt to bring the other eleven around to his way of thinking makes for an amazingly riveting drama (despite of how dry it might sound on paper). The list of actors portraying the “angry men” reads like a Who’s Who of dramatic heavyweights-because it is (imagine Martin Balsam, Lee J. Cobb, E.G. Marshall, Jack Klugman, Jack Warden and Ed Begley all cooped up in a hot stuffy room, and all very cranky-can you just smell the ham burning?).

The Verdict- Lumet returned to the courtroom in this outstanding 1982 drama, armed with an incredible cast and a killer David Mamet screenplay. Paul Newman gives one of his career-best performances as a burned-out alcoholic “ambulance chaser” who gets a shot at redemption when he takes a medical malpractice case to trial (after initially planning to take the path of least resistance by going for a quick and dirty settlement). Jack Warden also shines as his best friend and fellow lawyer who helps him build his case. James Mason is also at the top of his game as the opposing attorney (“That guy’s the Prince of fuckin’ Darkness,” Warden warns Newman, in a wonderfully droll Mamet line reading). Charlotte Rampling is on hand as well, playing her duplicitous character with aplomb. Nice use of the autumnal Boston locales, thanks to DP Andrzej Bartkowiak.

Encore! 10 more: Q&A, Family Business, Running on Empty, Garbo Talks, Deathtrap, Equus, Murder on the Orient Express, The Offence, The Deadly Affair, The Hill.

Update: Digby here. Felt I had to say something considering that Network has practically defined my career as a blogger. Obviously, this film is very important to me. Indeed, I think it may be the most important cultural observation of our time. It was, of course, the brilliant Paddy Chayevsky script that gave it the wry and astute intellectual substance. But it would not have been as successful without Lumet's brooding atmosphere and as Dennis points out above, his ability to get performances of the Gods from actors.

I posted this famous scene the other day for another purpose. (Network, The Godfather and Strangelove have been evoked on this site so often, I probably owe royalties.) But my favorite scene is the one in which William Holden confesses to his wife that he is love with Faye Dunaway. Beatrice Straight deservedly won the Oscar for this scene. It's the punch line at the end that gets me:

Louise: Does she love you, Max?

Max: I’m not sure she’s capable of any real feelings.

She’s televisión generation. She learned life from Bugs Bunny.

The only reality she knows comes to her from over the TV set.

She’s carefully devised a number of scenarios for all of us to play, like the movie of the week.

My God, look at us, Louise. Here we are, going through the obligatory middle of act two, the ‘scorned wife throws peccant husband out" scene.

But don’t worry, I’ll come back to you in the end.

All her plot outlines have me leaving her and coming back to you,because the audience won’t buy a rejection of the happy American family.

She does have one script in which I kill myself. An adapted for television version of Anna Karenina ...

where she’s Count Vronsky and I’m Anna.
(click the link to see the full four minutes of brilliance.)

But Network aside, Lumet was always one of my favorite directors. Coincidentally, I happened to catch The Verdict and The Morning After just in the last week. The first is a masterwork, the second a misfire, but they both feature riveting performances by two of our greatest actors, Paul Newman and Jane Fonda, both playing emotionally broken, alcoholic middle aged wrecks. In lesser hands, these characters would be very hard to watch for two hours. In Lumet's hands these are stories told in the small details of the close-up and the ambient lighting of the environments in which they live. (Interestingly, The Morning After is the rare non-NY locale --- it takes place in LA. And it perfectly captured the sun-bleached, ratty deco architecture of the Hollywood neighborhood in which an aging actress would eventually wind up.) But these were, in the end, stories about human despair and redemption, of people who had lost little pieces of themselves along the way, given up to a system of greed and ambition, and had one chance to put themselves back together. Lumet let the camera linger on their faces forever as their humanity came into focus.

I'm sure there are directors out there doing the consistently excellent adult film fare (not that kind, you filthy perverts) that Lumet was known for, but I can't think of who it would be. They are very rare. RIP.