The Chase

After the monumental success of Lawrence of Arabia, Sam Spiegel could never quite recapture his old magic, releasing films that were both box-office thuds and critical bombs. While The Night of the Generals and Nicholas and Alexandra are interesting if flawed films, The Chase (1966) is a complete misfire, an obnoxious, one-note social message film playing with a stacked-deck and an inflated sense of self-importance. It really has no message beyond saying that America is a violent, nasty place, an idea conveyed in many films better and more subtle than this.

A small Texas town turns upside down when Bubber Reeves (Robert Redford), a good-hearted local convict, escapes from jail. Various townspeople go ape, from oil tycoon Val Rodgers (E.G. Marshall) and a trio of bigoted thugs (Richard Bradford, Clifton James, Steve Ihnat) to a meek banker (Robert Duvall) who shares a past with Bubber, to Reeves' ex-wife (Jane Fonda) and former pal (James Fox), also Rodgers' son. In the middle of all this is Sheriff Calder (Marlon Brando), disliked by pretty much everyone; he tries to keep his head and prevent bloodshed as Bubber arrives in town, but finds his position increasingly difficult.

With Arthur Penn (Bonnie and Clyde) directing, a script by Lillian Hellman (The Children's Hour), and a cast of hot '60s talent and fine character actors, The Chase has all the trappings of a great film. But all this talent essentially goes to waste in a dull, overlong film that makes its point early and then beats us over the head with it. Early on we get that our characters are unlikeable, sleazy racist slugs waiting for an excuse to kill someone, but to pad out the run-time, we get interminable party and conversation scenes. The plot proper doesn't start for about an hour, and for at least half the film, we've nothing to do but hang out with redneck scum. Once the story gets underway, as the film seems satisfied with condescending hatred rather than a thoughtful examination of violence and bigotry.

The way Hellman and Penn sell the message and characters is beyond obnoxious. The film takes place in a typical Small Town as Envisioned By Guilty Hollywood Liberals, populated by completely one-dimensional vermin. The trio of thugs goes around leering at teenaged girls, brandishing guns, beating up the Sheriff, and just we know they're really bad, harass a pair of random black men. Few of the others are better, from the slutty, drunken women to the eccentric old loonies to the henpecked bank VP. Calder is passive and uninteresting, lacking motivation or depth, and is never a satisfactory protagonist. Bubber, in keeping with Penn's The Left-Handed Gun and Bonnie and Clyde, is a good-hearted, misunderstood crook, who has improbably spent his whole life taking the fall for others.

Perhaps the biggest problem is that we never understand why Bubber is so feared. The movie leans towards individual hatred mixing with mass hysteria, but this doesn't jive. Bubber is so virtuous and non-threatening that the film's conceit is ludicrous, and marks the characters as pawns of the ridiculous plot. The rigged drama is completely unsatisfactory, sacrificing logic or drama for the sake of demonizing its characters. The climactic lynch mob scene is well-staged but ridiculous, and the crude restaging of Jack Ruby's slaying of Lee Harvey Oswald at the climax adds insult to injury. The ultimate message of The Chase is that people are no damned good, an unhelpful, intellectually bankrupt message reeking of smugness.

Penn's direction is fine, handling his large cast and location shooting well. The set-pieces are generally well-staged, but Penn can do little to alleviate Hellman's stinker script. John Barry contributes a fine score, his first for a Hollywood film. No one can complain about Spiegel's lavish production values, but his attempts to recreate the biting social commentary of On the Waterfront fall dramatically flat.

Marlon Brando, in the middle of his mid '60s slump, plays Calder as a passive, boring lead. His mumbly Texas accent put this viewer in mind of Boomhauer from King of the Hill, not a good thing in a "serious" social drama. Jane Fonda successfully transitions from comedy star (Cat Ballou) to serious actress, but a pre-superstar Robert Redford is an inert martyr. James Fox (A Passage to India) gives a fine turn with a remarkable Texas accent. The rest of the cast does well: Robert Duvall (The Godfather Part II), E.G. Marshall (Twelve Angry Men), Angela Lansbury (The Manchurian Candidate), Janice Rule (Invitation to a Gunfighter), Richard Bradford (The Untouchables), Clifton James (Live and Let Die), Miriam Hopkins (The Children's Hour), Bruce Cabot (King Kong).

The Chase is a top-notch production, well-made by a fine array of Hollywood talent. All the fine acting and technical skills, however, are at the service of a lame, skewed and mean story. When you stack the dramatic deck this much, you can advocate pretty much anything imaginable, and everything about it rings false. Far from being an overlooked classic, as some have suggested, The Chase is a dated film that's best left forgotten.