Bonnie and Clyde

"We rob banks." SFW?

I'm going to back-track a bit to last week, when slow Internet made updating somewhat problematic, and review Arthur Penn's Bonnie and Clyde (1967). If nothing else, it gives me a frame-of-reference from which to address the idea of the remake with Hilary Duff.

Bonnie Parker (Faye Dunaway) is a bored and dirt-poor Oklahoma girl who runs into the handsome petty crook Clyde Barrow (Warren Beatty) one day and decides to tag along on a robbery. This leads to the formation of one of the most successful and violent gang of bank robbers of the Great Depression, as they rob bank after bank throughout the Midwest. Bonnie and Clyde covet their fame, following newspaper coverage eagerly and making themselves into glamorous Robin Hood idols, robbing the greedy banks but leaving the poor farm folks - but their reputation eventually catches up with them, and soon they find themselves staring down the barrels of a well-laid police ambush.

While often lauded as a landmark film for a variety of reasons, from its amoral characters to the extreme slow-motion violence (which isn't nearly as bloody or violent as Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch just two years later) to its establishment of Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway as Hollywood idols (and also giving Gene Hackman's career a nice boost), Bonnie and Clyde is, more than anything else, very much a product of its time. That's not to say it isn't an entertaining film; on the contrary, its action, direction and acting are all top-notch. But besides being a decent waste of two hours, there isn't a great deal there, and the movie is remarkably dated in a number of important ways.

The movie is very much a product of the rebellious late '60s, with its depiction of two of the most violent, pathetic and sleazy criminals in American history as glamorous young folks driven into crime by the Depression and the oppressive System. It's easy to see the film's appeal; coming out just as the '60s were beginning to boil over into radicalism, its beautiful, very fashionable young criminals sticking it to the Man and going out in a blaze of glory - a message that undoubtedly appealed to the disaffected youth of the late '60s and the new generation of critics and film makers who would eagerly tap into the soon-to-form counterculture. Seen today, however, they seem extremely dated; scenes where Bonnie tells a farmer to keep his own money during a robbery, or when Clyde helps a ruined landowner shoot a foreclosure sign, seem forced and just don't work. They may have struck a chord at the time, but today they just seem trite and obvious. Maybe in that time and place, one could have seen these guys as heroes, but with hindsight and knowledge of history it's very difficult. The Model T's and other period details are mere decoration; this isn't a period film, but some sort of social commentary.

As a result, the movie has a curious lack of depth. The cast of characters, even our two leads, have a curiously sketched-in quality, and never rise above the level of ciphers. Bonnie and Clyde have a typical rough-and-tumble relationship, and are portrayed somewhat incredibly as mostly good people who happen to be criminals. Even visits with Bonnie's family, the presence of Clyde's brother (Gene Hackman) and annoying sister-in-law (Estelle Parkins), and the inclusion of C.W. Moss (Michael J. Pollard)'s s dad (the always-welcome Dub Taylor) as a key plot device, don't do a great deal to flesh out their depth. It's hard to see why we should sympathize with these characters, who don't do a great deal to earn our sympathy. Beatty and Dunaway may be glamorous but what exactly makes them compelling protagonists, or even anti-heroes? Again, it's presumably their taking on the establishment with Tommy guns and cool clothes, but that's not much incentive for me - nor is their gloating over being celebrities, which ultimatley gets them killed. Do they rob banks out of any financial need, or just to be cool? Logic dictates the former, but the film seems to push for the second answer.

Still, despite these deficiencies, the film excells on most entertainment levels. Penn's direction in particular is top-notch. He captures the Midwestern countryside in its stark beauty and desolation and handles the action scenes with aplomb. The movie has a number of legendary bits of violence - the murder of a pesky bank clerk, the nighttime ambush of the gang's hideout, and particularly the final ambush of our protagonists - that still hold up today, though their raw power of originality has long since faded. The constant bluegrass score adds immeasuribly to the film's atmosphere; it's the one detail that makes the film seem authentic.

Helping somewhat, too, is the cast. Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway are good-looking, glamorous and have screen presence to burn, and through sheer force of charisma they make their characters worth watching. They're backed up by an able supporting cast, including Gene Hackman, Estelle Parsons, Michael J. Pollard, Denver Pyle, Dub Taylor, and a young Gene Wilder. Even though their characters are rather poorly drawn, the movie is certainly well-cast and the performers do their best to pull it off.

Bonnie and Clyde is in many ways an important film, and it remains reasonably entertaining, but its historical context is extremely obvious. This doesn't take too much away from the film, but it prevents it from being a must-see classic film.

Rating: 7/10 - Recommended