The Horse's Head

When I started this blog in January 2017, the National Film Registry totaled 700 movies, and even as that number grew over the last seven years, my goal from the start was to hit that 700 milestone. It has been quite the journey getting to this moment, and it is with immense pride that I present…

The Plot: Joe Buck (Jon Voight) is a young, naïve Texan who moves to New York City with a dream of becoming a sex worker (“hustler” in his parlance) catering to rich older women. After an unsuccessful start with a bored Park Avenue socialite (Sylvia Miles), Joe meets Enrico “Ratso” Rizzo (Dustin Hoffman), an impaired Brooklynite con man who takes him in and agrees to manage his hustling. As the months wear on and the weather gets colder, Joe’s business continues to be hit or miss, while Rizzo’s health worsens. Despite their bleak existence, Joe perseveres in the hopes of helping Rizzo achieve his dream of moving to Miami. It’s a story of survival in the Big Apple’s rotten core, set to the same Harry Nilsson song playing on a seemingly endless loop.

Why It Matters: The NFR calls the film “gritty” and “frequently disturbing”, praising the “electric performances” of Voight and Hoffman.

But Does It Really?: Roger Ebert once said that no great movie can be truly depressing because a great film’s artistry can uplift even the most downer subjects, and that’s how I feel about “Midnight Cowboy”. While not the cultural touchstone it once was, “Midnight Cowboy” still has a compassionate quality that ultimately supersedes its gloomy subject matter to be a captivating experience. I attribute most of that compassion to Schlesinger’s realistic but never melancholy direction, as well as the compelling performances from Hoffman and especially Voight. “Midnight Cowboy” successfully tows the line of being timeless while simultaneously of its time, and the film is a no-brainer for NFR induction.

Shout Out: Among Joe’s possessions is a poster of Paul Newman from “Hud”.

Everybody Gets One: John Schlesinger was part of the British New Wave of filmmaking in the early 1960s, and one of the few openly gay film directors of the era. Following the international success of his 1965 film “Darling”, Schlesinger successfully pitched an adaptation of “Midnight Cowboy” to United Artists, who gave him total creative control and a budget of $1 million (which would ultimately balloon to $3 million). Screenwriter Waldo Salt got his start in the 1940s, but, like so many of his peers, was blacklisted in the 1950s after refusing to testify before HUAC. “Midnight Cowboy” was one of Salt’s first big projects following the dissolution of the blacklist. His daughter Jennifer appears in the movie as Joe’s hometown sweetheart Crazy Annie.

Wow, That’s Dated: Part of the sexual interplay between Joe and Shirley involves a game of Scribbage: the forgotten bastard child of Scrabble and Yahtzee.

Seriously, Oscars?: Although “Midnight Cowboy” didn’t enter the Oscar race with the most nominations of the year (“Anne of the Thousand Days” – 10) or win the most trophies that night (“Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” – 4), it received seven nominations and scored three very important wins: Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Director, and Best Picture, the only X rated film ever to win the top prize (more on that rating later). The film lost its Editing nod to “Z”, Sylvia Miles lost Supporting Actress to Goldie Hawn in “Cactus Flower”, and Dustin Hoffman and Jon Voight lost Lead Actor to a very different cowboy: John Wayne in “True Grit”.

• Oh, and apparently one of the bus passengers on Joe’s trip is M. Emmet Walsh in his film debut? Definitely missed that.
• The film is a straightforward adaptation of the second half of the novel. The book’s first half is Joe’s life in Texas before he goes to New York, and while most of that is excised from the movie, the main points are featured throughout in flashbacks and dream sequences. The one thing I wish they had kept was Joe’s reasons for wanting to be a hustler. In the final film I get that his history with sex is complicated to say the least, but other than wanting to make money, they never clarify his choice. Still, I can’t begrudge a movie that doesn’t spell out everything.
• Shoutout to two of this movie’s behind-the-scenes talents. Editor Hugh A. Robertson’s Oscar nod for his work here was the first for an African American in that category. And as of this writing, the film’s costume designer Ann Roth is still with us, having recently won an Oscar for her work on “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” and even more recently played the older woman on the bench in “Barbie”.
• This film’s depiction of New York City is the epitome of its seedy reputation from the late ’60s onwards. As seen in “Midnight Cowboy”, this is the dingy, cacophonous Manhattan where you will get pickpocketed immediately upon arrival; a city that turns everyone into a hustler of some kind. The film plays it all so realistically you accept that this is what New York must have really been like.
• A staple of Off-Broadway theater, Sylvia Miles makes quite the impression as Joe’s first “client”. As surprised as I am by her Oscar nomination (she’s in the film for about five minutes), I’m always in favor of anyone pulling a Beatrice Straight and getting a nod for a one scene performance. Unrelated, Sylvia Miles once dumped a plate of food on misogynist/critic John Simon’s head at a restaurant, which makes her my personal hero.

• As Rizzo, Dustin Hoffman is clearly trying to distance himself from Benjamin Braddock and establish himself as an actor with range rather than a clean-cut leading man. To keep Rizzo’s limp consistent, Hoffman allegedly kept stones in one of his shoes. To paraphrase Laurence Olivier, “Have you tried acting, dear boy?”
• Side note: Rizzo is in that co-lead/supporting gray area that confuses the Oscars, and I suspect putting Hoffman in the lead category hurt both his and Voight’s chances of winning.
• If you know two things about this movie, the second thing is Rizzo shouting “I’m walkin’ here! I’m walkin’ here!” as he and Joe are almost hit by a cab while crossing a busy street. Both Hoffman and Voight attest that the cab was not supposed to be there and the whole thing was improvised, while producer Jerome Hellman insisted that the cab was always part of the scene, with Hoffman only improvising that specific line (there is a similar scene without the line in the original screenplay). Whatever the truth is, the actors’ version makes the better story, and as they say in another NFR movie “When the fact becomes legend, print the legend.”

• That’s Bob Balaban as the student who picks up Joe at a movie theater. Not so much a “Before They Were Famous” role as it is “Before They Were That One Guy”.

• The one element that seems to be absent in the novel is the film’s homosexual aura. There’s a lot of talk about Joe’s male clientele (always shown as desperation on Joe’s part), and unfortunately plenty of homophobic slurs. One interesting coincidence is that when Joe and Rizzo start arguing about masculinity they mention John Wayne!

• Also very dated: The Warhol-inspired “happening” that Joe and Rizzo attend. It’s a bit excessive (even Schlesinger admitted later he should have trimmed it down), but you don’t mind it as you get lost in this unfamiliar territory alongside Joe and Rizzo. Speaking of Andy Warhol, party host Gretel is played by Viva, who in real life was one of Warhol’s superstars. According to Schlesinger, when he offered Viva the role, she immediately called Warhol with the news and while they were talking, Warhol was shot by radical feminist Valerie Solanis.

• Although I haven’t seen a lot of her filmography, I always enjoy when Brenda Vaccaro pops up in things, and her performance here as Shirley, the playful partygoer who hires Joe, is a lot of fun. This is also your reminder that Johnny Bravo’s mom is on the NFR.

• Joe’s rate is $20, which in today’s money is about $170. I know nothing about sex worker rates, but I feel like Joe’s lowballing himself. Also, Rizzo’s cut is $1 for cab fare, which is only about $9 today. Wow, that’s dated.
• The ending was spoiled for me years ago, but I still found it devastating after seeing it in the right context. And yet, in keeping with this film’s MO, I also found it surprisingly beautiful, ending my viewing experience on a positive note. And for those of you keeping score, that’s two NFR movies that end with Dustin Hoffman and another actor sitting in the back of a bus contemplating everything that’s happened.

• Both Dustin Hoffman and Jon Voight spent the next few decades being movie stars, and coincidentally won consecutive Best Actor Oscars: Voight in 1978 for “Coming Home” (with the same producer and screenwriter as “Midnight Cowboy”), and Hoffman in 1979 for “Kramer vs. Kramer”. Oh, and they’re both in that new Coppola “Megalopolis” movie, the first time they’ve been in a narrative film together since 1969 (though I don’t know if they have any scenes together).

• Both “Everybody’s Talking” and “I’m walkin’ here!” have entered the pop culture lexicon thanks to this movie, to the point where I imagine most people don’t know what they’re referencing.

• The film has had a few parodies over the years, and I’m partial to this tribute from a “Seinfeld” episode with an appearance by Jon Voight!

• And finally, the Muppet character Rizzo the Rat gets its name from this movie’s “Ratso” Rizzo. So thanks to an X rated drama, you have a rat puppet co-narrating your favorite Christmas movie.

The Plot: Near the end of the Civil War, both sides discover that they can win if they obtain a load of gold from a Union mine in Nevada. While the Union entrust Captain Edward Logan (Montague Love) to retrieve it, the Confederate send their own spy Jack (Raymond Griffith) to infiltrate the Union base and get the gold first. A sly, sophisticated criminal, Jack manages to evade capture and stumble onto a stagecoach carrying the mine’s owner Silas Woodstock (Mack Swain) and his two adult daughters Alice and Mae (Virginia Lee Corbin and Marian Nixon). Jack’s covert operation faces many setbacks along the way, but he still finds time to simultaneously woo both Woodstock sisters! And the hilarity just keeps ensuing in this comic output from one of the silent era’s many forgotten stars.

Why It Matters: The NFR write-up is mostly a tribute to Raymond Griffith, whose on-screen comic persona was “worlds away from the frantic, rubber-faced funnymen who stereotypically appeared in silent films.” An essay by silent film comedy expert Steve Massa is comprised of mini biographies for the major players of “Hands Up!”

But Does It Really?: When we think of silent film comedy, we think of Chaplin, Keaton, and Lloyd, as if these were the only three comedians at the time. While these three are the ones whose films have endured (both in a cultural and more literal sense), they are the tip of the iceberg for a plethora of comic filmmakers whose work is mostly lost to time. “Hands Up!” is on this list to represent Raymond Griffith, another popular comedian of the era. While “Hands Up!” is not without its faults, it made me laugh out loud a few times, and it was fun to discover Griffith’s work and talents. A pass for “Hands Up!”; an enjoyable, if not integral, silent comedy from an unsung artist.

Everybody Gets One: Raymond Griffith started out as a child actor in touring melodramas. Griffith would later claim that all the yelling he did in performances caused his unique raspy voice, though others have suggested his malady was caused by a case of diphtheria. Either way, he was a natural for silent film. His early film work with the likes of Mack Sennett was mostly behind-the-scenes as a writer, but by the 1920s he had developed his on-screen character: the unflappable, urbane dandy. “Hands Up!” was one of 10 starring vehicles Griffith made for Paramount from 1925 to 1927, and one of only a handful of his movies to survive.

Wow, That’s Dated: Well obviously the less-than-stellar depiction of a nameless Indigenous tribe in the middle of this movie. It’s a brief episode, but these are the stereotypical “savages” that all but defined Indigenous people in the early days of film (and by “early days”, I mean the first century or so).

• By the time Raymond Griffith died in 1957, his career as a silent comedian was all but forgotten. According to the Massa essay, interest in Griffith’s films was revived by theater critic Walter Kerr and his 1975 book “The Silent Clowns”, which devotes a chapter to Griffith among write-ups of his more impactful contemporaries. Although Griffith’s film legacy hasn’t measurably improved in the last 50 years, his surviving films are readily available online, and there are historians like Steve Massa willing to sing his praises.

The Plot: Lou Diamond Phillips plays Ritchie Valens, the Mexican American teenager who achieved rock and roll fame with such songs as “La Bamba” before his tragic death in 1959 in a plane crash at age 17. When we meet Ritchie in 1957, he is still Richard Valenzuela, a part time farmhand in Northern California who moves to Pacoima, Los Angeles with his mother Connie (Rosanna DeSoto) and half-brother Bob Morales (Esai Morales, no relation). Richard’s rock and roll aspirations are juxtaposed with Bob’s dream of being an artist that are deterred by his alcoholism and volatile temper, often aimed at his wife Rosie (Elizabeth Peña). One of Richard’s first local performances is witnessed by Bob Keane (Joe Pantoliano), the owner of Del-Fi Records who quickly signs Richard and shortens his stage name to Ritchie Valens. Ritchie immediately has several hit songs, including “Donna”, which Valens wrote about his high-school sweetheart (Danielle von Zerneck). But the pressures of fame and the increasing instability of his brother start to weigh on Ritchie, culminating in that fateful performance in Clear Lake, Iowa with Buddy Holly and J. P. Richardson, aka the Big Bopper (Marshall Crenshaw and Stephen Lee) and a fatal flight that would later be dubbed “The Day the Music Died”.

Why It Matters: The NFR gives a rundown of the film and the real Valens, stating that the movie “reinvigorated interest in Valens’ brief but notable musical legacy”. There’s also an interview with Luis Valdez that chronicles all three of his NFR entries.

But Does It Really?: Despite knowing virtually nothing about Ritchie Valens going into this viewing, I enjoyed “La Bamba” a lot. Yes, it’s the kind of musical biopic that has oversaturated our movie landscape in the last two decades, but “La Bamba” is a fresh precursor to all that. Led by director Luis Valdez and an affable Lou Diamond Phillips, the film does an excellent job treating these characters as realistic people rather than historical figures, and none of the important moments are overplayed, but rather spring organically from the story. While I found the ending a bit awkward (more on that later) the rest of the movie is an enjoyable biopic and a fine tribute to a talent gone too soon. “La Bamba” is first-rate representation of Hispanic artists both in front of and behind the camera and is an iconic enough movie that its NFR induction can go undisputed.

Shout Outs: “Vertigo” is playing at a drive-in movie theater while Ritchie and Donna make out. I wonder why Columbia didn’t save money and use their own Stewart/Novak 1958 vehicle “Bell, Book and Candle” instead.

Title Track: Potentially dating back as far as the late 1500s, “La Bamba” originated as a Mexican folk song in Veracruz. Many different versions of the song have been performed and recorded over the years, with Andrés Huesca making it a hit in America in 1947. As seen in the film, Ritchie Valens recorded “La Bamba” as a tribute to his Mexican heritage and released it as the B-side to “Donna”. Both songs were a hit for Valens, with “La Bamba” peaking at #22 on the Billboard Hot 100. Funnily enough, the Los Lobos cover recorded for this movie did even better than Valens’ original, going all the way to #1.

Seriously, Oscars?: Despite being a critical and financial hit, “La Bamba” was not a major player during the 1987/1988 awards season. The film’s only major nomination was the Golden Globe for Best Drama, losing to “The Last Emperor” (though kudos to “La Bamba” for not going for the easier nomination and potential win in the Musical/Comedy categories). Columbia Pictures was the US distributor for “The Last Emperor”, as well as fellow Best Picture nominee “Hope and Glory”, which may explain why “La Bamba” was left in the dust.

• Right out the gate, this movie is as much about Bob Morales as it is about Ritchie. I sense in his research that Luis Valdez recognized an optimistic teenager wasn’t the most exciting lead for a movie, so the wise decision was made to have it be about both of them: Two brothers with artistic aspirations, one with a positive outlook and good luck, the other with a self-inflicting string of bad luck. It makes for a good dichotomy, though Morales’ intense performance occasionally sidelines Phillips in his own movie.
• As Connie, Rosanna DeSoto puts a fun spin on the aggressively supportive mom. This isn’t a Mama Rose-type stage mom pushing her child into showbusiness; this a woman who will support her son’s dream in any way possible. It’s a shame DeSoto didn’t gain any awards traction for this performance. In fact, it’s a shame no one in this movie got nominated for anything.
• You cannot have someone performing rock and roll in a ’50s gymnasium without me thinking of “Back to the Future“. I kept expecting Ritchie’s cousin Marvin Valens to make a phone call.

• Shoutout to Joe Pantoliano as Ritchie’s manager Bob Keane. In 2017, Pantoliano achieved the rare distinction of having three of his movies inducted into the NFR in the same year: this, “The Goonies”, and “Memento“. And shoutout to Pantoliano’s work advocating for mental health, including his nonprofit No Kidding, Me Too!
• I was ready to call BS on Ritchie having a girlfriend named Donna that inspired him to write the song, but it turns out that is true. The real Donna Ludwig was interviewed by Valdez for the film and even came to the premiere! Side note: The real Bob Keane felt that among the final film’s inaccuracies was the relationship between Ritchie and Donna, which he considered more akin to “a casual acquaintance”.

• Kudos to whoever made the footage of Phillips as Valens on “American Bandstand” look like a ’50s black-and-white TV show. Very authentic looking. And yes, this is one of those movies where everyone is watching the same show at the same time, but to be fair there were only three channels back then. The odds of that happening were much better.
• Alright, another movie for my Die Hard Not X-mas List!
• I knew enough about Ritchie Valens beforehand that I started to squirm once Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper showed up. This infamous night is also dramatized in 1978’s “The Buddy Holly Story” with Gary Busy as Holly and Gilbert Melgar as Valens. I’ve never seen “Holly”, but I’m told the version of these events in “La Bamba” is more historically accurate. This all begs the question: Will the Big Bopper ever get his own biopic? 

• I don’t know if this movie’s ending completely works. Of course, the death of Valens is as sudden and heartbreaking here as it was in real life (DeSoto’s performance made me tear up), but then the movie just ends, followed by a maybe-too-upbeat reprise of Valens performing La Bamba over the end credits. It all feels very abrupt. Allegedly, another ending was shot with the real Bob Morales paying tribute to his brother in the present day, but it was scrapped.

• “La Bamba” producer Taylor Hackford would go on to direct his own biopic about a legendary musician: 2004’s “Ray” starring Jamie Foxx as Ray Charles.

• Upon the 2017 induction of “La Bamba” into the National Film Registry, Lou Diamond Phillips stated his pride in its place on the list and that the film “still speaks to the American Dream and to inclusion and representation”. In Luis Valdez’s interview with the Library of Congress, he stated how “very pleased and honored” he is to have three of his films on the NFR, noting that it is an acknowledgment of “the presence of Chicanos in the American scheme. I mean we’re all Americans.”

Listen to This: “La Bamba” was added to the National Recording Registry in 2019, with a write-up mentioning that Valens’ music “brought a new sound to the mainstream, and inspired generations of Chicano musicians”. An essay by Valens expert Larry Lehmer is a succinct history of the song’s origins and Valens’ cover.

NOTE: This post is based on my viewing of the 1998 Reconstructed version.

The Plot: While crossing the Mexican border into the US, special prosecutor Miguel Vargas (Charlton Heston) and his new bride Susan (Janet Leigh) witness a car explode as it travels into Mexico. Vargas immediately postpones his honeymoon and returns to Mexico to investigate. Leading the US side of the investigation is Police Captain Hank Quinlan (Orson Welles), a bigoted recovering alcoholic with an unblemished track record of successful arrests. When Quinlan interrogates his prime suspect – the victim’s son-in-law Manolo Sanchez (Victor Millan) – he discovers sticks of dynamite that match those used for the car bomb. Vargas realizes that the dynamite was planted, and suspects that Quinlan’s entire career has been founded on corruption. As Vargas gets closer to the truth, Quinlan works with crime boss Joe Grandi (Akim Tamiroff) to get Vargas off the case, including having the Grandi gang harass Susan, who is staying in a nearby motel waiting for her husband. There’s a lot going on in this seedy crime thriller, but because it’s Welles it compensates for its lack of cohesion with his trademark cinematic flair.

Why It Matters: The NFR calls it “one of cinema’s most influential and audacious suspense dramas”, praising Russell Metty’s “shadow-drenched cinematography”, particularly during the opening shot. An essay by film critic Michael Sragow is a thorough rundown of the film, its production, and subsequent restorations.

But Does It Really?: Confession: I’ve never seen “Touch of Evil”, and I was worried it wouldn’t live up to its hype. Having now seen it, while I’m not a new convert to the church of this movie, I enjoyed it and understand why it’s a lot of people’s favorite Orson Welles movie. In what was ultimately his last movie for a Hollywood studio, Welles shows that he still has plenty of tricks left up his sleeve, creating a stylish, unsettling, captivating movie. It is not without its faults (once again, Charlton Heston is playing a Mexican), but like so much of Welles’ filmography, “Touch of Evil” is an entertaining movie that becomes more intriguing the more you study it. Orson Welles already had his two most famous films on the Registry at this point, but “Touch of Evil” is just as worthy of being considered a significant American film.

Wow, That’s Dated: We all know what this is going to be: White actor Charlton Heston plays Miguel Vargas in full-on brownface. It’s a very difficult pill to swallow. Heston later said that he regretted not using a Hispanic accent when playing Miguel. Really? That’s the part you regret?

Title Track: The film began production with the novel’s original title “Badge of Evil”. At some point during filming, producer Albert Zugsmith changed it to “Touch of Evil” (Zugsmith had a history of changing his movie titles, reasoning “I pick my titles to get ’em into theatres.”) Welles initially hated the new title, but eventually came around to it.

• Hey another US/Mexican border movie! I told you the NFR loves these things.
• Susan doesn’t have a lot to do in this movie, but Janet Leigh is great in this, making the most out of her first scenes confronting Grandi. Funnily enough, I can see flashes of her daughter, Jamie Lee Curtis, in this performance.
• Of course Welles gives himself the best entrance, as Quinlan steps out of his car and towers both metaphorically and literally over the whole investigation. And shout out to makeup artist and “Citizen Kane” alumni Maurice Seiderman. The prosthetic makeup Welles is wearing is so convincing it took me about half the movie to remember that he would have been 20 years too young to play Quinlan.
• Another big case of ethnic miscasting: Armenian actor Akim Tamiroff plays Mexican Joe Grandi. One look at Tamiroff’s filmography shows he was the Anthony Quinn of his day, playing practically every ethnicity other than his own.
• I love when a movie has a “Guest Stars” credit, in this case Marlene Dietrich and Zsa Zsa Gabor! Dietrich agreed to play the local madam Tana for the opportunity to work with Welles, and shot all her scenes in one day, which explains why she appears almost entirely in close-up shots and rarely shares the screen with her scene partners. Gabor was friends with producer Albert Zugsmith (possibly dating at the time), and her brief appearance as the strip club owner makes one NFR film apiece for both showbiz Gabor sisters (Eva’s in “Gigi“).

• Among the other established actors who agreed to appear in “Touch of Evil” in small roles are Keenan Wynn, Oscar winner Mercedes McCambridge, and another longtime Welles collaborator, Joseph Cotten (though Cotten’s one line as the town coroner is dubbed by Welles).
• I had a good time watching “Touch of Evil”. It has a very tense quality throughout that keeps you on alert and compels you to watch. This movie has also helped me form a theory on how to become a classic: Break all the rules, then wait 20 years. Most groundbreaking movies aren’t recognized as groundbreaking at the time, but over the years other filmmakers start emulating the movie and before you know it, those broken rules become the norm and a movie like “Touch of Evil” is reevaluated as “ahead of its time”. The reconstructed version is great, but I also understand why Universal opted for a more conventional cut. Welles’ original version would have been too out there for your average 1958 moviegoer. Remember, these are the same people who hated “Vertigo“.
• The second Janet Leigh said she’s checking into a motel I knew things weren’t going to turn out great for her.
• Speaking of that motel: What in the actual fuck is going on with Dennis Weaver’s performance? It’s so out of whack with the rest of the movie it’s distracting to the point of irritating. Welles cast Weaver based on his work on the TV show “Gunsmoke”, and the two collaborated on making the motel night manager, in Welles words, “a Shakespearean loony”. I’m glad Welles enjoyed it because I sure didn’t.

• Kudos to everyone who worked on the 1998 reconstruction. It’s typically easy to spot reinstated film footage by an obvious dip in sound and picture quality, but this reconstruction is so seamless I genuinely didn’t know what changes were made until I researched it after my viewing.
• That ending with Miguel monitoring Quinlan and Sgt. Menzies packs in a lot. The surveillance sequence is an interesting precursor to “The Conversation“, and it’s nice of Quinlan to have zero peripheral vision while Miguel is trailing him with the recorder. After that, the last moments on the bridge focus on the decades-long work relationship between Quinlan and Menzies, which I guess we were supposed to care about this whole time? Seems like an odd choice that sidelines our supposed protagonist. And no spoilers, but what a twist!

• “Touch of Evil” is one of those movies that gets referenced for its overall style rather than any specific line or moment. The film’s one-take opening sequence has been alluded to, emulated, and even topped by later movies. Most notable of these disciples is the eight-minute opening shot of Robert Altman’s “The Player”, which at least has the courtesy to mention “Touch of Evil” by name during the scene.

• I love the sequence in Tim Burton’s “Ed Wood” where the titular director, dismayed by the production setbacks of his “Plan 9 from Outer Space”, meets and is encouraged by Orson Welles. “Touch of Evil” is never referred to by name, but Welles (as played by Vincent D’Onofrio dubbed by Maurice LaMarche) mentions he’s doing “a thriller at Universal” where the studio heads “want Charlton Heston to play a Mexican”. Hey, that was your idea!

• After filming “Touch of Evil”, Orson Welles went to Mexico to film “Don Quixote”, a project he would continue on-and-off over the next decade but ultimately scrap. Welles completed five more feature films after “Touch of Evil” (including “Chimes at Midnight” and “F for Fake”), all of them independently financed productions. Welles returned to Hollywood in the 1970s, acting in any movie, TV show, or wine commercial that would have him to raise fundings for his projects. Orson Welles died in 1985 at age 70, leaving behind his undisputed classics and a seemingly endless collection of abandoned projects his devotees have spent the last 40 years trying to complete.

The Plot: In 1901 near Kenedy, Texas, a group of Texas Rangers are on the hunt for Gregorio Cortez (Edward James Olmos), a Mexican wanted for the murder of a local sheriff. Over the course of eight days, Cortez evades the Rangers as he rides across South and Central Texas on stolen horses. Through a series of flashbacks recounted from a variety of perspectives, we piece together the events that led to Cortez being on the run, learning that the circumstances surrounding his crimes may not be all that they initially seem. When Cortez is finally captured and put on trial, the local Mexican community rejects the White narrative being printed in newspapers and turn Cortez into a hero via his own song: “The Ballad of Gregorio Cortez”.

Why It Matters: The NFR gives the film a three-paragraph write-up, detailing the plot, hailing it as “one of the key feature films of the 1980s Chicano film movement”, and praising its “acclaimed cinematography”. There’s also an extended interview with Edward James Olmos in which he discusses all six (!) of his NFR films, declaring “Gregorio Cortez” to be “the finest film I’ve ever made.”

But Does It Really?: I went into this viewing knowing nothing about the movie or the real-life events behind it, and while the film itself is unconventional and the non-linear structure a tad confusing at times, overall I found it an enjoyable, compelling watch that holds up very well 40 years on. It’s clear that Robert Young and his fellow creatives want to forgo the legend and tell Cortez’s story as authentically as possible, with Young’s trademark documentary-style filmmaking giving everything a very grounded aesthetic. “The Ballad of Gregorio Cortez” is not a landmark in film history, but it is an important stepping stone in the evolution of Latino filmmaking and Mexican American representation. I hope this NFR induction means more people will discover this movie.

Everybody Gets One: Born and raised in Los Angeles, Moctesuma Esparza grew up in a socially conscious household (his father left Mexico during its 1918 revolution) and became a social activist himself during the Chicano movement of the late 1960s. Esparza produced his first documentary “Requiem 29” (another NFR entry) in 1970, and received an Oscar nomination for his documentary short “Agueda Martinez: Our People, Our Country” in 1977. In the late ’70s Esparza wanted to produce a film adaptation of “With His Pistol in His Hand”, Américo Paredes’ 1958 dissertation on Gregorio Cortez and the songs he inspired. Esparza received funding to make the film from both the National Council of La Raza and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the latter which would eventually air the film on their “American Playhouse” anthology series. While at the Sundance Film Festival in 1979, Esparza met Edward James Olmos, who agreed to play Gregorio Cortez and recommended his “¡Alambrista!” collaborator Robert M. Young to direct the film. Olmos was also assigned to produce the film as Esparza was busy getting another project – “The Milagro Beanfield War” – off the ground with Sundance founder Robert Redford.

Wow, That’s Dated: My one problem with this movie (and pretty much every other movie in the ’80s) is the synthesizer score. Obviously, a movie like “Cortez” with a limited budget doesn’t have the money for a full orchestra, but synthesizer scores always stick out to me as an instant sign of their time.

Title Track: “El Corrido de Gregorio Cortez” was sung in various settlements along the US/Mexico border during Cortez’s trial. There were multiple variations on the song, 11 of which are transcribed and discussed in “With His Pistol in His Hand”. Each version embellishes the story to make Cortez a modern-day folk hero, something this movie attempts to course-correct.

Seriously, Oscars?: No Oscar attention for “Gregorio Cortez”, but several internet sources say that Rosanna DeSoto won a Golden Eagle award for her performance. I couldn’t find anything official to back this up, but the former DC based organization CINE (Council on International Nontheatrical Events) did have a Golden Eagle award, and among their winners were other productions that, like “Cortez”, aired within “American Playhouse”, so it is possible that DeSoto is one of their winners. Heck, she’s still around, can someone ask her?

Other notes

• One of the film’s most important creative decisions is that none of the Spanish in the movie is translated with English subtitles. This was done to keep audiences in the moment with the characters, as well as to make any non-Spanish speakers in the audience as confused by everything as the Texas Rangers were. Thankfully for those of us with sub-rudimentary Spanish comprehension, almost every scene has a character translating the Spanish, and everything else is effectively conveyed by the actors.
• I liked this movie a lot more than I have most westerns on this list (though this movie does so much genre-bending I question if “western” is even an accurate description). Part of that is Young’s trademark documentary approach, as well as the efforts made for historical accuracy. These aren’t historical figures carved in marble, these are regular people caught up in unusual circumstances. It helps that the story of Gregorio Cortez isn’t well-known by the public, so we don’t necessarily identify these people as historical figures from the start.
• As noted in the film’s Criterion essay by Professor Carlos Ramirez Berg, this is one of the few westerns in which our lead cares about the horses. Gregorio is attentive and empathetic to each of his horses, especially the one that injures its leg that Cortez must abandon. I’ve never given horses much thought over the years (although I rode one once when I seven), but all this time writing “The Horse’s Head” has made me more conscious of their treatment both on and off-screen.
• Between this and my recent viewings of “¡Alambrista!” and “Fuentes Family Home Movies Collection“, the NFR loves any movie that takes place on the US/Mexico border. This also makes a nice bit of foreshadowing for next week’s post. Stay tuned…
• Yes, you read that correctly: Edward James Olmos has six movies on the National Film Registry. “Cortez” was released the same year as his first film to make the Registry: “Blade Runner“.
• For whatever reason, it took me a while to get used to this film’s “Rashomon”-style flashbacks. I guess I wasn’t expecting that from this movie. Still, I appreciate that the flashbacks begin the classic movie way, with a character saying “I remember when that happened…” followed by a dissolve. You can practically hear the harp glissandos.
• Another point in favor of authenticity: the gun violence in this movie is limited, but quick and sudden when it does occur. There’s no attempt to dramatize or glorify the violence, it essentially happens as it would in real life.
• Speaking of gun violence, shout out to Timothy Scott as Sheriff Morris, aka “the vic”. Scott spent 30 years and 40 movies playing Southerners/authority figures, with “Gregorio Cortez” being in the middle of his Venn diagram.
• The other thing I enjoyed about this movie is that Gregorio Cortez isn’t a straight-forward protagonist, and certainly not the mythic figure the ballad makes him out to be. This isn’t some anti-hero standing for justice against a corrupt system, but rather a normal guy who has gotten in over his head. He doesn’t outsmart the Texas Rangers to avoid them in their pursuit, but rather is constantly (and barely) staying one step ahead of them, which thanks to Olmos’ performance you can see take its toll on Gregorio as he goes on. We don’t even get to spend much time with Gregorio until the film’s second half, but Olmos makes the man compelling enough that we keep watching to see what happens to him.

• The second half of the movie deals primarily with Gregorio’s capture and its aftermath. Here we learn the pivotal moment lost in translation, in which the sheriff’s translator didn’t know the Spanish word for “mare”, and just repeated the word for “horse”, making it seem that Gregorio was lying about his horse trade and leading to the death of his brother and the sheriff. For the record, horse in Spanish is “caballo”, and mare is “yegua”.
• This is where we meet Rosanna DeSoto as Carlotta Munoz, the court-appointed translator who is so moved by Gregorio’s story she is compelled to advocate for him outside the jail with a performance of the ballad. It’s a lovely performance, and it’s always nice to see Rosanna DeSoto on this list, but a Best Actress award? She’s barely in this thing. Who did she beat out?
• The courtroom scenes were filmed in the actual courtroom in Gonzales, Texas where Gregorio Cortez was tried in, with the judge being played by a real-life Gonzales County judge, the honorable E.W. Patteson. There’s also a great turn by Barry Corbin (later of “Northern Exposure” fame) as Gregorio’s court-appointed defense attorney.
• It’s not a movie about racial tensions until a White male lynch mob shows up, a sight that has become way too common in recent years. Also, the mob leader is played here by Ned Beatty in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it performance not unlike his work in “¡Alambrista!” Man, that guy never turned down work.
• It wasn’t until the obligatory epilogue text saying what happened to Gregorio Cortez after these events that I realized this was all based on a true story. Turns out by not doing my homework, this movie has a surprise twist ending the filmmakers never intended.

Legacy

• “The Ballad of Gregorio Cortez” premiered in a single theater in San Antonio, Texas in early June 1982 before airing on PBS’ “American Playhouse” later that month. The film received a wider release in the summer of 1983, with Edward James Olmos personally traveling with the film across the country to promote it.

• Critical reception for “Cortez” was mostly positive, although allegedly “With His Pistol” author Américo Paredes hated it. I’m not sure what exactly Paredes didn’t like about the film (perhaps it wasn’t as scholarly as his original book), but apparently he would get so mad when people mentioned the film he couldn’t speak.
• Like “¡Alambrista!” before it, “Gregorio Cortez” was part of a wave of Mexican narrative filmmaking that would peak in the 1980s, as well as the burgeoning independent film scene that was gaining traction throughout the decade.
• “Gregorio Cortez” continued Robert Young’s pivot from documentaries to narrative features with such films as “Extremities”, “Dominick and Eugene”, and “Triumph of the Spirit”. Young continued to make documentaries as well, including his final film in 2011: “William Kurelek’s The Maze”.

• Moctesuma Esparza continues to produce film and television, most notably another NFR movie – “Selena”. Esparza is also a founder and director of Maya Cinemas, a California theater chain that caters to a Latinx audience.

• Although “The Ballad of Gregorio Cortez” more or less disappeared after its initial run, it has maintained an important place in Mexican American filmmaking. In 2021 and 2022, the film made Representative Joaquin Castro’s annual list of Latino films submitted for National Film Registry inclusion, making the cut in December 2022.