The Horse's Head

#750) The Wild Bunch (1969)

#750) The Wild Bunch (1969)

OR “The Dirty Half-Dozen”

Directed by Sam Peckinpah

Written by Peckinpah and Walon Green. Story by Green and Roy N. Sickner.

Class of 1999

The Plot: On the Tex-Mex border in 1913, a group of aging outlaws led by Pike Bishop (William Holden) pull one last job robbing a railroad payroll office. After a violent showdown, Pike and his surviving men (Ernest Borgnine, Warren Oates, Ben Johnson, Jaime Sánchez) return to their hideout, only to learn the robbery was a set-up and that the “silver” they stole are worthless washers. Needing one more job to retire, the bunch, along with the crotchety Freddie Sykes (Edmond O’Brien) head to Mexico and strike a deal with General Mapache (Emilio Fernandez) to rob a train transporting U.S. Army ammunition so the General can continue his fight against Pancho Villa and the Mexican Revolution. All the while, Pike and his men are being pursued by bounty hunters led by Pike’s former partner Deke Thornton (Robert Ryan). Released just as Old Hollywood was dying out, “The Wild Bunch” showcases a Wild West in its final days, mixed with some of the bloodiest action sequences ever filmed.

Why It Matters: The NFR write up for “The Wild Bunch” is brief but flattering, calling it no less than “a true American classic”, praising Peckinpah, the cast, the cinematography, and the editing. An essay by film critic Michael Wilmington is equally effusive.

But Does It Really?: “The Wild Bunch” is one of the last “established classics” on the Registry that I had never seen before, and I enjoyed it. The film succeeds as the next evolutionary step for the western, with a realism and grittiness that would have been unthinkable just a few years earlier. Yes, the violence is intense, but it’s reserved for a handful of sequences, and the rest of the film is filled out with great performances by the entire ensemble and a script with much to say about loyalty and morality at the end of a lawless era. “The Wild Bunch” isn’t the greatest movie ever made, but it should absolutely be considered among the greats, and its NFR inclusion is a no-brainer.

Everybody Gets One: The original story of “The Wild Bunch” came from Roy N. Sickner, a stuntman who had doubled for the likes of Marlon Brando and Richard Harris. Sickner conceived the role of Pike for his friend Lee Marvin, who agreed to play the part, but bowed out for a bigger paycheck in “Paint Your Wagon”. The initial screenplay was written by documentarian Walon Green before being fleshed out by Sam Peckinpah. “The Wild Bunch” was Green’s first produced screenplay and Sickner’s sole writing credit.

Seriously, Oscars?: Despite its controversy, “The Wild Bunch” received two Oscar nominations: Best Original Screenplay and Best Original Score, losing both to “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”. Sam Peckinpah’s screenplay nod was the only Oscar nomination of his entire career.

Other notes

When we last saw Sam Peckinpah, he had parlayed the success of “Ride the High Country” to direct “Major Dundee”, but that film was recut by the studio, and stories of Peckinpah’s difficult on-set behavior got him fired from his next project, “The Cincinnati Kid”. Desperate for work, Peckinpah returned to TV, receiving critical praise for his adaptation of the short novel “Noon Wine”. This got the attention of Kenneth Hyman and Phil Feldman at Warner Bros., who courted Peckinpah to direct the African adventure film “The Diamond Story”. Peckinpah agreed and proposed “The Wild Bunch” as a backup project. Warner Bros. noticed the similarities between “Wild Bunch” and “Butch Cassidy” (in pre-production at 20^th Century Fox) and let Peckinpah go ahead with “Wild Bunch” to have it released before “Butch Cassidy” (“The Diamond Story” was never produced).
With “The Wild Bunch”, Peckinpah wanted to make a western with more realistic gun violence in the wake of the Production Code’s dissolution in favor of the MPA rating system. He was inspired by the brief but unflinching violence in “Bonnie and Clyde”, as well as the gruesome imagery of the ongoing Vietnam War being broadcast on the nightly news. Peckinpah more than succeeds at creating the film’s unforgettable violence, aided by the cinematography of Lucien Ballard, who experimented with various frame rates to draw out the bloodshed for maximum impact. Bonus shoutout to editor Lou Lombardo; at a time when the average movie had less than 1000 cuts, “The Wild Bunch” contains anywhere from 1800 to 3600, including some that last a fraction of a second. These quick cuts enhance the overall chaos of the film’s action.
This movie hooked me in the opening credits as the bunch make their way to the train office posing as Cavalry men. It’s a lovely display of tension, mixed with Jerry Fielding’s excellent score and some interesting freeze-frame negative images over the credits. It’s all capped by Pike’s order of “If they move, kill ‘em”, followed by Peckinpah’s directing credit.

This opening shootout has a lot going for it, and I’m sure in 1969 it was an intense sensory overload. Even amid the bedlam, Peckinpah establishes some key character dynamics and story elements, an incredible feat in and of itself. Also, even though Peckinpah avoided using Warner Bros.’ stock sound effects for this movie, listen closely for a Wilhelm.

If you were a classic Hollywood star in the late 1960s as New Hollywood started taking over, your options were A) embrace the change, B) resist and decry the change, or C) retire. The likes of Holden and Borgnine were about 15 years past their movie star prime by 1969, but they clearly went with option A, relishing the chance to play more nuanced characters and mutter things like “son of a bitch” and “you lazy bastard”. As leader of the bunch, Holden is the glue keeping everything together, and can convey all you need to know about Pike with a simple look or a raise of his eyebrow. Holden’s understated work is nicely balanced by Borgnine’s bigger performance as Dutch. He’s not at a “Poseidon Adventure” level of hamminess, but he’s very explosive and emotive by comparison, crucially never crossing the line into overacting.
The rest of the bunch is…also there. As the Gorch brothers, Ben Johnson and Warren Oates are fine, but thankfully they have more noteworthy performances in their near future. Jaime Sánchez does okay as the hotheaded young buck Angel, and Edmond O’Brien is having fun as the kind of Walter Brennan-type comic relief these movies are required to have.
My viewing of “The Wild Bunch” was of the “Director’s Cut”, which features 10 minutes of sequences cut after the film’s premiere without Peckinpah’s input or approval. Amazingly, it wasn’t the carnage that was initially excised, but rather quieter scenes that served as supplemental character development. Among those cuts: a flashback explaining Pike’s falling out with Deke Thornton. Why would you cut that? We need that!
Robert Ryan is playing a much more internal character than his other NFR work, but he’s always a welcomed sight, speaking volumes with his permanent hangdog look. Among the members of Deke’s posse are Peckinpah go-to L. Q. Jones, and Strother Martin in one of his more grating performances.
“The Wild Bunch” was filmed entirely in Mexico, which means that at long last we have an NFR movie where the Mexican characters are played by actual Mexicans! The one exception is Puerto Rican Jaime Sánchez, who Peckinpah cast after seeing his performance in “The Pawnbroker”.
General Mapache is played by Emilio Fernandez, who longtime readers may remember as the director of “La Perla”. Is it me or does he kinda look like Adolphe Menjou?
Yeah, Peckinpah had issues with women. Every woman in this movie is either a literal whore or is treated as such, and several of them have violent on-screen deaths. Men would rather create a watershed revisionist western than go to therapy.
The next big action sequence – the bunch’s train robbery – isn’t until the movie’s halfway point, and is another compelling sequence, played out with almost no dialogue. The subsequent chase scene is another reminder of how much easier crossing the US/Mexico border used to be.

Thanks to my viewing of “La Venganza de Pancho Villa” for this blog, I had a general idea of where the Mexican Revolution fit into all of this. While Pancho Villa doesn’t make an appearance here, he gets name-dropped a few times, and his troop attacks Aqua Verde in yet another scene cut from the theatrical release.
In addition to all the action this movie has, it contains a healthy dose of juicy dialogue, most of it mumbled in a way that, while appropriate for these characters, doesn’t give you the time to fully appreciate it. My favorite exchange (and one of the film’s main theses) is between Dutch and Pike about Deke: “He gave his word to a railroad.” “It’s his word.” “That ain’t what counts! It’s who you give it to!”
The film’s most iconic non-violent scene is a shot of Pike, Dutch, and the Gorch brothers, weapons in hand, walking down a street en route to rescue Angel from Mapache. It’s a simple moment that does an excellent job of ramping up the tension in anticipation of the inevitable showdown. Most remarkably, the sequence wasn’t in the script, with Peckinpah creating it on the day.

The final shootout is what I assume the ending of “Butch Cassidy” could have been. Most remarkably, it doesn’t last that long. Maybe five minutes? In any other movie it would have been 20 minutes minimum. And no spoilers, but the last line of this movie is Edmond O’Brien’s cackling. Always leave ‘em laughing, I guess.

Legacy

“The Wild Bunch” opened in June 1969, three months before “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”. While “Wild Bunch” ultimately trailed behind “Butch” at the box office, it was still a financial hit, recouping its budget with a profit of about $3 million. Critics at the time were mixed on “Wild Bunch”, with its violence serving as the major dividing line. Since 1969, “The Wild Bunch” has received near-universal acclaim, frequently popping up in lists and polls of the Greatest Movies Ever Made (it is tied at #136 on the 2022 Sight & Sound Greatest Films poll).
Sam Peckinpah followed up “The Wild Bunch” with the significantly less violent “The Ballad of Cable Hogue”. Subsequent Peckinpah films include “Straw Dogs”, “The Getaway”, and “Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia”, most if not all of which generated some form of controversy around the film’s content or Peckinpah’s behavior. Sam Peckinpah died in 1984 at age 59 from heart failure.

Walon Green has a handful of post-“Wild Bunch” screenplays to his name, including “Sorcerer” and “Eraser”, but his primary writing has been for such TV shows as “NYPD Blue” and “Law & Order”. Green also directed the documentary “The Hellstrom Chronicle”, for which he won an Academy Award. And because I have nowhere else to put this: Walon Green is the man with a millipede crawling over his face during the weird tunnel scene in “Willy Wonka”.

“The Wild Bunch” continues to get referenced, or at least alluded to, in practically any movie with a violent standoff. More overt references popped up on “Buffy, the Vampire Slayer”, which featured characters named Angel and Lyle & Tector Gorch. As for direct parodies, it begins and ends with Jim Reardon’s “Bring Me the Head of Charlie Brown”.

Hollywood has been threatening us with a remake on-and-off for the last 20 years, at times attaching such names as Tony Scott, Will Smith, and Mel Gibson (!), but thankfully it has stayed in development hell where it belongs.
And finally, Peckinpah’s goal with the excessive violence of “The Wild Bunch” was to so overwhelm the audience that they never wanted to see on-screen violence again. Unfortunately, moviegoers loved the violence, and the movies have spent the last 50-plus years out-goring themselves. Not every great movie’s legacy is what the filmmakers intended.

Further Viewing: Even this film’s making-of documentary is good! Consisting of 16 mm footage of the film’s production in Mexico, Paul Seydor’s “The Wild Bunch: An Album in Montage” was released in 1996 and nominated for the Best Documentary Short Oscar.

Wow, 750 movies. How the time flies. Thanks as always to you for reading this. Onward!

The NFR Class of 1998: Gettin’ Jiggy wit It

November 16^th, 1998: The National Film Registry celebrates 10 years of adding movies to a list by adding 25 movies to their list, making it an even 250 for the Registry. Here’s the Class of 1998, along with snippets from my write-ups on these films:

Westinghouse Works 1904 (1904): “another figure in the carpet of early filmmaking”
From the Manger to the Cross (1912): “preservation-worthy, but not on the top of anyone’s list”, “I assume the book is better.”
The Immigrant (1917): “an important stepping stone, if not essential Chaplin.”
Sky High (1922): “It represents Tom Mix, and it features impressive footage of the Grand Canyon. That’s about it.”
The Lost World (1925): “by no means a revered classic…but the effects by Willis H. O’Brien are worth the trip out.”
The Phantom of the Opera (1925): “There are other Phantoms out there, but there’s only one Lon Chaney.”
Pass the Gravy (1928): “[Max Davidson] has just as much a right to be in the NFR as any other lesser-known silent star”.
Steamboat Willie (1928): “a pivotal moment in film history. Plus the songs are really catchy.”
The Public Enemy (1931): “holds its own alongside the other gangster movies of the time”
42^nd Street (1933): “So much talking. More musical numbers, please!”
Little Miss Marker (1934): “compared to the other films that could represent [Shirley] Temple on the list, it is found wanting.”
The Bride of Frankenstein (1935): “stands next to the first [“Frankenstein”] as the horror film all others strive to be.”
The City (1939): “a bit heavy-handed”, “an emotional tone poem for change.”
Tacoma Narrows Bridge Collapse (1940): “a good lesson to all you aspiring architects out there.”
The Ox-Bow Incident (1943): “never goes to that next level you want from a classic film.”
Twelve O’Clock High (1949): “man do you have to slog through a long movie to get to all of the good stuff.”
Gun Crazy (1950): “proof that some B-movies are better than the main feature.”
The Hitch-Hiker (1953): “a wonderful example of how you can create a very suspenseful film on a shoe-string budget.”
Modesta (1956): “achieves a unique status on the NFR thanks to its Puerto Rican production”
Dead Birds (1963): “never take a documentary at face value.”
Dont Look Back (1967): “If you’re a [Bob] Dylan fan, you’ll get a lot more out of this than I did.”
Easy Rider (1969): “very much of its time, but still accessible”, “the road trip movie on LSD, perhaps literally.”
The Last Picture Show (1971): “great performances…mixed with two hours of bleak existence for everyone.”
Powers of Ten (1977): “in a word, trippy.”
Tootsie (1982): “one of the finest comedies ever made.”

Other notes

We don’t have any footage of the official NFR announcement (perhaps they learned their lesson from the previous year), but we do have an article from the Library of Congress newsletter telling us that Librarian of Congress Dr. James Billington headed west and made the 1998 announcement at the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences library in Los Angeles. Among those in attendance were several National Film Preservation Board members including Alan Bergman, Fay Kanin, and Leonard Maltin, as well as “Twelve O’Clock High” star Gregory Peck. It’s interesting to see the NFR trying to figure out what exactly the announcement is, dipping their toe into a bigger event a la the Oscar nominations. Ultimately, their current practice of a press release and a corresponding video works best.
While the Class of 1997 featured plenty of big, iconic movies, the Class of 1998 primarily consists of films that live in the shadow of movies already on the Registry. We have the stepping stone films of directors already on the list, films that represent stars that are important but not essential figures in movie history, plus one that is the sequel to another NFR movie (iconic in its own right, but still a sequel). What this list lacks in heavy hitters, however, it makes up for with its eclecticism: actuality footage, a comedy short, an animated short, amateur disaster footage, New Deal propaganda, several independent productions, an ethnographic film, a concert documentary, and whatever the hell “Powers of Ten” is. We even get one entry produced by and filmed in a U.S. territory, which is still a rarity on the list.
There seem to be a disproportionate number of my write-ups on this year’s movies that I tackled in the first year of the blog, before I had settled on the blog’s more informative than irreverent tone. I have dogeared most of these for a re-write in the future. Stay tuned.
When the Class of 1998 was announced, the number one movie at the US box office was the Adam Sandler comedy “The Waterboy”. Also in theaters that week was future NFR entry “Saving Private Ryan”, and a re-release of “The Wizard of Oz”. Other notable films in release include “Rush Hour”, “Pleasantville”, and “Practical Magic”; all of which, and I can’t stress this enough, were outgrossed that weekend by “The Waterboy”.
Also worth noting that five months earlier “Easy Rider” and “Tootsie” were included on the AFI’s list of 100 greatest American films, along with 66 other NFR entries (with another 29 to come).
This year’s creative double dippers: Producers Carl Laemmle Jr. and Darryl F. Zanuck, actors Morris Carnovsky and Frank Conroy, songwriter Bob Dylan, director William A. Wellman, and editor Donn Cambern (though it is debated how much Cambern contributed to the editing of “The Last Picture Show”). This list also gives us three generations of Fondas: Henry, Peter, and a brief appearance by Bridget. Still no Jane anywhere on this list, but that’s another story.
Thematic double dippers: Universal monsters, animal abuse (most of it directed at chickens), angry mobs, films shot outside the United States, extra-marital affairs, border crossings, westerns with ineffectual threats, overall disregard for a film’s leading lady, cars/motor vehicles as a primary setting, films that premiered at a World’s Fair, and disputed screenplay credits.
Favorites of my own subtitles: Steel This Movie, Savior the Moment, The Land During Time, Why the Lon Face?, Word of Mouse, The Very Model of a Modern Major Capital, and The Robber Bride and Groom.
I can admit now that I was high while watching “Easy Rider” for this blog. Nothing crazy, just a brownie. I thought it would help!
And of course, it bares repeating that “Steamboat Willie” was inducted into the NFR just a few weeks after Congress had passed the Copyright Term Extension Act, which pushed the film’s copyright expiration from 2003 to 2024. Disney strongly pushed for this extension and similar proposals in the past, to the point that the ’98 act was called the Mickey Mouse Protection Act by critics. Since my initial write-up in 2017, “Steamboat Willie” finally lapsed into the public domain, though it has unfortunately joined the growing list of public domain titles that immediately receive a cheap horror movie.
That’s too depressing to end this post on, so let’s revisit a favorite of mine from the “Dont Look Back” post: “Sebastian Cabot, Actor. Bob Dylan, Poet.” Let’s see you pursue that kind of greatness, Timothée Chalamet!

The Class of 1999 recap is coming very soon, as is this blog’s 750^th movie! And if you’re following along, you should be able to guess what it is…

Happy Viewing,

Tony

#749) Modesta (1956)

#749) Modesta (1956)

OR “Speak Spanish and Carry a Big Stick”

Directed by Benjamin Doniger

Written by Doniger, Luis A. Maisonet, and René Marqués. Story by Domingo Silas Ortiz.

Class of 1998

The Plot: Modesta (Antonia Hidalgo) is a housewife in a Puerto Rican barrio looking after her husband (Juan Ortiz Jiménez) and their three children with a fourth along the way. One day Modesta’s husband orders her to kill one of their chickens and cook it for dinner while he’s at work. Modesta fails to capture the chicken, and when her husband comes home and berates her for it, Modesta picks up a nearby large stick and hits him over the head with it. News of this spreads quickly in the barrio, and Modesta is soon joined by the neighboring housewives to form the League of Liberated Women, demanding equal status in their marriages, and equal responsibilities from their husbands regarding housekeeping and childcare. Brought to you by Puerto Rico’s División de Educación de la Comunidad, aka the Division of Community Education.

Why It Matters: The NFR write-up is primarily historical background on Puerto Rico’s Division of Community Education and the films they produced throughout the 1950s and 1960s. “Modesta” is singled out for being “[f]eminist at its heart”, and director Doniger gets a shout out. An essay by NFR aficionado Daniel Egan is pretty much all the information we have about “Modesta” and its production.

But Does It Really?: There aren’t a lot of NFR movies filmed in U.S. territories (the only one I can think of is “The Chechahcos” in the then-territory of Alaska), so “Modesta” automatically achieves a unique status on the NFR thanks to its Puerto Rican production. The film itself is a simple fable handled decently if not remarkably, but it goes by quickly enough that it’s hardly worth griping about the film’s shortcomings. Of the dozens of films produced by the Division of Community Education, I don’t know why “Modesta” was the one chosen to represent them on the NFR, but I’m glad it was.

Everybody Gets One: Not a lot of information about Benjamin Doniger or why and how this native New Yorker ended up making movies in Puerto Rico. Prior to his work in Puerto Rico, Doniger served as cinematographer and/or camera operator on a few shorts including “The Cummington Story” and “Journey Into Medicine”. Some sources (including the NFR write-up) state that Doniger was the cinematographer on fellow NFR film “Louisiana Story”, though his only on-screen credit on that film is for sound (the credited cinematographer for “Louisiana” is Richard Leacock). Doniger’s entire directorial filmography consists of films made in Puerto Rico from 1953 to 1959, with “Modesta” being his second film as director.

Title Track: Modesta roughly translates to “humble woman”, which as we see is a very ironic title. “Modesta” should not be confused with Modesto, the California city near my hometown of Stockton. Modesto is the city Stocktonians make fun of to feel better about ourselves.

Seriously, Oscars?: No Oscar nod for “Modesta”. For the record, the 1956 Oscar for Best Live Action Short Subject, Two-Reel went to “The Bespoke Overcoat”, which is one of the most British titles I’ve ever come across. Some sources claim that “Modesta” won a prize at the 1956 Venice Film Festival, but I can’t find anything official to back that up.

Other notes

I can’t get into the rich and complex history of Puerto Rico in this write-up, but for our purposes here we’ll begin in 1898 when Puerto Rico became a U.S. territory following the Spanish-American War (Puerto Rico had been part of the Spanish Empire up to that point). Recognition of Puerto Rico as part of America has been slow-going; Puerto Ricans weren’t recognized as U.S. citizens until 1917 and didn’t officially become a self-governed territory until the early 1950s. Although Puerto Rico has a Governor and other elected officials, it does not have statehood or representatives in the House or Senate, and Puerto Ricans cannot vote in federal elections (such as the U.S. Presidential elections). On the plus side, very few Puerto Ricans are subject to federal taxes. Anything else I know about Puerto Rico comes from “Progress Island, U.S.A.” Progress!
Although Puerto Rico had been producing films since the 1910s, almost all their early efforts have been lost to time. Following the election of Luis Muñoz Marín in 1949 (Puerto Rico’s first elected governor), the Division of Community Education was established to promote social reform through radio, books, and yes, film. Between 1950 and 1975, 65 shorts and two features were produced by the Division of Community Education, all filmed in Puerto Rico using locals as actors.
“Modesta” was filmed in Sonadora, a barrio in Guaynabo. To the best of my knowledge, both Antonia Hidalgo and Juan Ortiz Jiménez were locals, and while this is Hidalgo’s only film credit, Jiménez had a few others over the years. Outside of our two leads, the only other acting credit goes to the catch-all credit for the “los vecinos del barrio Sonadora de Guaynado” (roughly translated to “the Barrio Sonadora community”). I could not find any credit for the narrator, who does a good job of establishing the film’s fable sensibility; he even says “habia una vez” (“Once upon a time”).
Obviously, “Modesta” is entirely in Spanish, so once again I resorted to an auto-translate of YouTube’s Spanish subtitles. It wasn’t perfect, but it did the job. It helped that everyone in this movie speaks deliberately and a little stilted, which makes the dialogue clearer and therefore gives me a better chance at an accurate translation.
As pointed out in the NFR write-up, the cinematography highlights the natural beauty of Puerto Rico, while simultaneously glossing over its poverty. Of course, the film isn’t here to address the territory’s poverty issues, but its optimistic message gives you hope that conditions will improve (and they have). Incidentally, the cinematographer for “Modesta” was the film’s co-writer Luis A. Maisonet, a native Puerto Rican.
Something I never expected to see in an NFR short: cockfighting! Nothing too graphic, thank goodness, but it still feels illegal to be watching this footage.
The husband is pretty dickish from the start, so I very much enjoyed watching Modesta finally hit him with that stick. Right on, woman!
This is followed by what I call the “Pick-a-little talk-a-little” section, where all the local housewives spread the word of Modesta’s defiant act against her husband. It’s a fun sequence, but please movie, no more close-ups of people’s mouths as they’re talking.
The film’s second half is mostly the newly formed League of Liberated Women meeting and discussing their agenda with the men of the neighborhood. It’s a lot like the local access broadcast of your city council meeting; a whole lot of talking about taking action without actually taking action. It’s a bit of a chore to get through, but the point of the movie is an emphasis on these ideals and not necessarily the entertainment factor.

Legacy

While their film production slowed down in the 1970s, the Division of Community Education continued commissioning other forms of art until its closure in 1989.
In recent years, more efforts have been made to grant Puerto Rico statehood. A majority of Puerto Rican citizens support statehood, as does their recently elected Governor Jenniffer González-Colón. Unfortunately, statehood is granted by the U.S. Congress, which, as previously mentioned, has no representatives from Puerto Rico and therefore no urgent reason to consider statehood.
Outside of its initial release in 1956 and its NFR designation in 1998, “Modesta” has more or less disappeared from the public film forum, though thankfully its spot on the Registry guarantees the film a write-up from dweebs like me every couple of years. Puerto Rico wouldn’t get a visible spot in pop culture until a certain Broadway musical made by very White creatives came into being.

#748) Bush Mama (1979)

#748) Bush Mama (1979)

OR “Didn’t Need No Welfare State”

Directed & Written by Haile Gerima

Class of 2022

As of this writing, “Bush Mama” can be viewed on Internet Archive.

The Plot: Dorothy (Barbara O. Jones) is a Black woman living in L.A’s Watts neighborhood with her husband TC and their daughter Luann (Johnny Weathers and Susan Williams). TC is a Vietnam vet that has had difficulty finding work, and when a promising new job finally appears, TC is arrested before his first day for a crime he didn’t commit. Now an unemployed single mother with a second child on the way, Dorothy navigates the complicated world of welfare living, while simultaneously being radicalized by her husband’s prison letters and the ongoing political unrest in her neighborhood.

Why It Matters: The NFR gives a rundown of the film and Haile Gerima, stating that the film “resonates as a haunting look at inner city poverty”. The write-up also erroneously lists the film’s release date as 1967.

But Does It Really?: Oh I am very out of my element with this movie. Admittedly, “Bush Mama” is operating on a number of levels I can’t fully comprehend on a first viewing, and tackling such massive issues as race, welfare, and police violence that are far beyond the scope of this little film blog. Still, I appreciated the opportunity to watch a movie so drastically different from almost anything else on this list: marrying a realistic depiction of a struggling woman with some artistic flourishes throughout. I’ll add “Bush Mama” to the list of NFR movies I respected more than I enjoyed, though obviously this film isn’t aiming to be a piece of entertainment but rather something more contemplative. In addition to its inherent uniqueness, “Bush Mama” makes the NFR cut as representation of truly independent filmmaker Haile Gerima, an unsung figure of the L.A. Rebellion.

Everybody Gets One: Born and raised in Ethiopia, Haile Gerima grew up watching Hollywood movies, but had no idea that filmmaking was a career option. As a young adult, Gerima moved to Chicago to study theater, though after a few years moved to California and studied film at UCLA. Gerima quickly became part of the L.A. Rebellion, a group of Black filmmakers focusing on a more realistic and political depiction of Black life as counterpoint to the rise of Blaxploitation movies. The idea for “Bush Mama” came to Gerima a few years earlier in Chicago, when he witnessed a Black woman getting evicted from her house in the middle of winter. Gerima filmed “Bush Mama” in 1975 as his thesis project, though it would not get an official release until 1979.

Other notes

We’re off to a promising start with a cacophony of social workers asking the same standard questions over and over, mixed with Dorothy walking through Watts, culminating with footage of a Black man receiving a “stop and search” from the LAPD. This opening is even more interesting when you learn that the man being searched is director Haile Gerima, who was actually stopped by the LAPD when they declared the film shoot “suspicious”. Not exactly a Hitchcock cameo.

As with many other NFR films by the L.A. Rebellion, different members supported each other’s productions. In this case, the legendary Charles Burnett served as cinematographer for “Bush Mama”.
Longtime readers may remember Barbara O. Jones (later known professionally as Barbara-O) as part of the “Daughters of the Dust” ensemble. As Dorothy, Jones grounds the film, and does a great job of looking forlornly off into the distance, something her character seems to do every five minutes. Fellow “Daughters” cast member Cora Lee Day also makes a strong impression in this film as Molly the social worker.
There were a lot of things I enjoyed visually about “Bush Mama”, from its semi-improvised one take scenes (a hallmark of any low-budget production), to its photo negative transitions. In a film that could easily have been people sitting around and talking, Gerima (and cinematographers Charles Burnett and Roderick Young) keeps things visually engaging. Also keeping things interesting is the film’s non-linear (or is it?) story structure.
The film features a very ‘70s score from Onaje Kareem Kenyatta, their only credited film as a composer (and their only credited film, period.) My one gripe is the very on-the-nose lyrics to a sequence of Dorothy walking the streets alone: “woman walking the streets alone”, etc. They even sing the name of the movie! “Welfare sister, hey Bush Mama”. It reminded me of the Randy Newman bit on “Family Guy” (“Left foot, right foot…”).
The second half of “Bush Mama” definitely takes a turn. As the film starts to focus more on Dorothy’s pregnancy and whether or not she should have the baby, its visual language shifts from its established neorealism to something more experimental and theatrical (I guess that was inevitable from a former theater major and the son of a famous Ethiopian playwright). Side note: The close-up shots of Dorothy’s pregnant belly gave me “All My Babies” flashbacks, and I was convinced I was going to see another live birth.
Technically this movie has an uplifting ending, but it’s presented in the bleakest way possible. No spoilers, but Dorothy is ultimately broken by the system, which completes her radicalization and motivates her to fight back. While I got the gist of it, a lot of the details went over my head and the ending didn’t deliver the way I think Gerima intended. Still, the last few minutes of this movie have stuck with me in a way not a lot of other NFR movie endings have, so “Bush Mama” is doing something right.

Legacy

Fully aware that his options in Hollywood were practically nonexistent, Haile Gerima and his wife Shirikiana Aina focused on financing their own films outside of the studio system with money from teaching jobs (Gerima taught film at Howard University for many years). Gerima’s filmography is limited, but in 1993 he made what is widely considered his masterpiece, “Sankofa”, about a Black model who travels back in time and experiences the horrors of the African Slave Trade. Sankofa is also the name of the bookstore and café the Gerima’s own in Washington D.C., which is still around, by the way.

Upon its initial release, “Bush Mama” received some critical praise, but quickly disappeared. Even within the niche filmography of the L.A. Rebellion, “Bush Mama” has been underrepresented; not receiving any major physical media release and often being excluded from lists of noteworthy L.A. Rebellion films. It has only been in very recent years that “Bush Mama” has started getting its due acclaim, thanks not only to its NFR induction, but also to its 2021 screening at the Academy Museum after being championed by Ava DuVernay, a longtime admirer of Haile Gerima.

#747) The City (1939)

#747) The City (1939)

OR “The Very Model of a Modern Major Capital”

Directed by Ralph Steiner and Willard Van Dyke

Written by Pare Lorentz (outline), Henwar Rodakiewicz (scenario), and Lewis Mumford (commentary)

Class of 1998

The Plot: While at the 1939 New York World’s Fair, be sure to visit the Science and Education building and catch a screening of “The City”; a look at the idyllic past, chaotic present, and potential return to idyllic future of city living. We begin with our simple, peaceful life in the country before the dawn of the industrial age. Suddenly our small towns and communities are invaded by steel mills and factories, and we move to the congested, hectic big cities for work, isolating ourselves through new technology and navigating the perils of the city streets. But there is hope for the future, a future with new cities out in the country, where modern conveniences like mass transit are built into the communities, and all neighborhoods are constructed with the comfort and well-being of its citizens in mind. A suburb, if you will. Brought to you by your friends at the American Institute of Planners.

Why It Matters: No superlatives for “The City” on its NFR write-up, but plenty of historical context because believe me this clip needs some set-up. An essay by Kyle Westphal is a more detailed, and at times critical, appraisal of the film’s creative tactics.

But Does It Really?: I seem to be in the “left leaning ‘30s propaganda” phase of the blog. “The City” is cast from a similar mold to “The River” and “The Plow That Broke the Plains”, but where those shorts were about preserving our nature, “The City” is about preserving ourselves. While the film is a bit heavy-handed and goes on too long for its own good, I enjoyed “The City” as a sort of alternate reality where America’s attempts to rebuild after the Depression weren’t hijacked by another world war. Thanks to the creativity of the film’s directors and writers; what could be a very dry subject for a movie becomes an emotional tone poem for change. While far from essential NFR viewing, I support “The City” being on this list, even if watching it skews closer to homework than entertainment.

Everybody Gets One: Like so many experimental filmmakers on this list, Ralph Steiner started off as a photographer. After joining the Film and Photo League in the late 1920s, Steiner made his first experimental film, 1929’s “H2O”. Throughout the 1930s, Steiner served as cinematographer on several liberal shorts and documentaries, including “The Plow That Broke the Plains” and “The River” for Pare Lorentz. It was around this time Steiner met Willard Van Dyke; another photographer turned filmmaker. The two were commissioned by Catherine Bauer of the American Institute of Planners (now the American Planning Association) to make a film for their “City of Tomorrow” exhibit at the 1939 New York World’s Fair.

Wow, That’s Dated: The model city at the end of the movie is Greenbelt, Maryland, one of three cooperative communities created by the Federal Government as part of the New Deal of the 1930s. Conceived by the expertly named Rexford Tugwell and settled in 1937, Greenbelt was built not only as a trial run of a new city model, but also to alleviate the housing shortage in nearby Washington D.C. and help create jobs for the area. It’s all well and good until you learn that Greenbelt was planned and designed as a White-only community. Why can’t we have nice things?

Seriously, Oscars?: No Oscar nomination for “The City”, but Willard Van Dyke would go on to receive a nod for the 1959 documentary short “Skyscraper” along with fellow NFR filmmaker Shirley Clarke.

Other notes

“The City” was funded largely by a $50,000 grant from the Carnegie Corporation of New York (about $1.1 million today). How do you get to the Carnegie Corporation? Practice.
The opening credits are a murderer’s row of liberal ‘30s filmmakers. Steiner, Van Dyke, Pare Lorentz; if you’ve been following the NFR you know exactly what kind of film “The City” will be before it even starts. Side note: Willard Van Dyke should not be confused with Woodbridge “W. S.” Van Dyke, the Hollywood director known for “The Thin Man” and “San Francisco”. To the best of my knowledge, Willard was of no relation to “One-Take Woody”.
Another big name in the credits: composer Aaron Copland. “The City” was Copland’s first film score, and it’s very…Aaron Copland, I give it that. It has Copland’s trademark Americana sound; you just accept the music for what it represents: quiet farm life, noisy city life, etc. Later in the same year, Copland would compose his first score for a feature-length film: “Of Mice and Men”.
Our narrator is Morris Carnovsky, a stage actor known for his work with the Group Theater, a New York based theater company that produced many of Clifford Odets’ original plays. Carnovsky perfectly matches the varying tones of each section: calm and reassuring during the farm segments, faster and more intense during the city section, patriotic and persuasive during the Greenbelt finale. Carnovsky can be seen on-camera in three NFR entries: “The Life of Emile Zola”, “Cyrano de Bergerac”, and “Gun Crazy”.
Part of what elevates this film is its poetic writing. There’s a version of this film that’s a little more matter-of-factly, another run of the mill piece of propaganda, but this script keeps things interesting and engaging, if at times preachy and biased. The script of “The City” was written by Lewis Mumford, who wrote several books about urban planning and the effect of the Industrial age on humanity.
I keep using words like peaceful and idyllic to describe the film’s first act on the farm because that’s what they’re going for; they really hit you over the head with it. Side Note: I don’t know if I agree with this film’s belief that crafting things by hand wasn’t work but rather art. That just sounds like more work to me.
I enjoyed the brief town hall meeting scene because it reminded me of the similar scene in “Blazing Saddles”. “Howard Johnson is right!”
There is nothing subtle about “The City”. Everything increases as we reach the Industrial age, with factories popping up seemingly overnight, and residential neighborhoods becoming dilapidated shanties covered in smoke. There’s no two ways about it according to this movie: this kind of progress is bad for humanity.
I’m enjoying the cinematography, also credited to directors Steiner and Van Dyke. Not surprising at all that two acclaimed photographers know how to frame a movie for impactful storytelling.
Add “The City” to the list of NFR movies that feature kids playing in the streets of New York, this time in Queens, I believe. Ralph Steiner is currently the only NFR director with both a “Kids in New York Streets” movie and a “Staring at Water” movie. The man had range.
I don’t know why, but I was amused by the “Danger Congested Area” sign on the streets of New York. As if you need to warn people that New York is crowded. Coincidentally, “Danger Congested Area” is also how I describe my nose during allergy season.
As the film begins its extended commercial for cities like Greenbelt, I kept thinking, “Did they invent the suburbs?” Turns out yes and no. While the idea of residential suburbs outside a big city had been around for centuries in Europe, this was the first major attempt at one by the US government. As for our nation’s eventual move to suburbia, see “Legacy”.
There are a few different versions of “The City” available to view online. Everything I’ve read about the film states the runtime as about 40 minutes, but most online uploads of “The City” run about 30. It seems that most of the cuts between the 30- and 40-minute version are in the back half; You aren’t missing too much, just more examples of how great Greenbelt’s model community is. As always, I recommend the full, uncut version of “The City”, but be warned that the longest version I could find online is missing the opening credits.
Even the 30-minute version finds time for a little sexism, as this new way of living gives your wife more time away from the laundry room to focus on social activities with the other housewives. “A little gossip or a friendly hand [of cards] is good for the complexion.” Yeesh.
The final moments of “The City” include the hard sell, where we are told that the choice between our current, awful state of city living and a new, superior life in the country is ours. Unfortunately, history showed that this choice would be made for us by international factions, and the answer was “None of the above”.
If anyone needs me, I’ll be checking out the smoking robot at the Westinghouse exhibit.

Legacy

“The City” played at the New York World’s Fair in 1939 and 1940. After the fair, an edited version was released theatrically by MGM under the title “This Is Tomorrow”, followed by a decade of playing various local schools, churches, and film clubs across America.
Ralph Steiner took a break from filmmaking in the early 1940s but continued his photography career for the rest of his life, returning to filmmaking in the 1960s. Willard Van Dyke continued working in film and television, and in 1965 became the director of the Department of Film at New York’s Museum of Modern Art. Coincidentally, both Steiner and Van Dyke died within six months of each other in 1986.
While the kind of cooperative communities depicted in “The City” never came to fruition on a nation-wide scale, this film did predict the unrelated suburban boom of the late 1940s/early 1950s, when WWII veterans got great deals on home ownership thanks to the G.I. Bill.
Greenbelt, Maryland still exists and has expanded beyond its original scope with a current population of about 24,000. The original 1937 section of town is now known as the Greenbelt Historic District and was named a historic landmark in 1997. Thankfully, modern Greenbelt is much more diverse than it was in the 1930s; according to the 2020 census, roughly 80% of Greenbelt’s population identify as an ethnicity or race other than White.