In Cold Blood

Richard Brooks's striking adaptation of Truman Capote's "non-fiction novel" is one of the best true crime films ever made. Aside from a few awkwardly-inserted sermons, it's a gripping, no-nonsense account of a horrifying, useless crime: the quadruple-murder of Holcomb, Kansas's Clutter family by two pathetic misfits.

Two-bit crooks Perry Smith (Robert Blake) and Dick Hickock (Scott Wilson) can't seem to get anything right in life. Perry hears from a friend that Kansas farmer Herbert Clutter (John McLiam) has a huge horde of money on his ranch, and hatch a scheme to rob him. The two show up at Clutter's place, but find only $43 in the house: angry and frustrated, they slaughter Clutter and his whole family. Hard-nosed Kansas Bureau of Investigation Agent Alvin Dewey (John Forsythe) takes off in pursuit, but the trail goes cold until Smith and Hickock wind up back in Kansas.

In Cold Blood pulls a neat trick in humanizing the killers without making them particularly sympathetic. Our protagonists are the anti-Leopold and Loeb: too stupid to know what they're doing, their "perfect crime" goes horribly wrong from the word go, degenerating into senseless killing and immediate regret. These losers don't even have the wit to escape, fleeing to Mexico then drifting back to the scene of the crime. The moments of humanity they get - Perry's warped fantasies and flashbacks, Dewey's interviews with their parents, the amusing scene where Hickock and Smith help a vagrant kid collect soda bottles - only accentuate their crime's nastiness. Individually they'd be cagey but harmless hoods, but together they're the perfect storm of neurotic destruction.

On the other side of the law, we have very believable cops who get their man through hard work, determination and a bit of good luck. KBI Agent Dewey is a model investigator who rivals Michael Lonsdale's Lebel from The Day of the Jackal as one of the all-time great movie cops. Dewey and Co. aren't Sherlock Holmes or the CSI crew, with their intuitive logical leaps and gee-whiz technology, but smart, seasoned professionals doing a job well. Fantasy cops are fun, but these guys are the real deal.

The film's inevitable highlight is the murder sequence. It's a genuinely horrifying scene, shown in excrutiating length and detail, a reckless act that spirals completely out of control as the promised loot proves illusory. Really, this is the quintessential American nightmare: a home invasion by armed killers who can't be reasoned with, sneaking in through the unlocked (!) front door. Wisely, Brooks keeps the gory details offscreen: future takes on the story (especially Capote) were lesser for showing slashed throats and splattered heads. The creepy photography and lighting, and the palpable terror of shotgun-toting thugs menacing a bound-and-gagged family, is horrendous enough on its own.

Keeping the film from perfection are a few none-too-subtle messages. Dewey gives a speech criticizing press coverage of the investigation, a more nuanced version of Dirty Harry's "Let cops do their jobs" argument. Fair enough: it's simply stated, sounds reasonable and is well-integrated into the action. More egregious is the anti-capital punishment pleading in the last fifteen minutes, which really seems out of place. Few viewers will have much sympathy for Smith and Hickock, whose gruesome, pointless crime is beyond the pale. Sorry, Messers Brooks and Capote, but there's no moral equivalence between shotgunning a 16 year old girl in the head and hanging two murderers.

Brooks handles a flawless production, mixing gritty docudrama with Hollywood style. The movie is just on the edge of the Hollywood revolution: there's some nudity and a surprising amount of cussing, but the violence remains mostly off-screen. In Cold Blood gives Citizen Kane and Brief Encounter a run for their money as the most vividly photographed black-and-white film. Conrad Hall's cinematography is beyond brilliant, utilizing striking lighting and camera tricks - notably the iconic shot of a rainy window, reflected on Smith's face - and Peter Zinner's striking hard cuts. Quincy Jones's jazzy score adds a jarring, nervous atmosphere to the film.

Scott Wilson's (Geronimo: An American Legend) Dick Hickock is a cagey piece of work, a superficially-charming psycho who turns out to be all talk. Robert Blake really owns the film: Smith is a pathetic loser with a hard life, shattered dreams and a hair-trigger temper. These two are among the most believably pathetic and hopeless criminals in Hollywood history, a perfect mixture of neuroses, desperation and violence.

The supporting cast is equally solid. John Forsythe (Topaz) is a revelation: often stiff and one-note, he's perfect for the no-nonsense Dewey. Charles McGraw (Spartacus) and Jeff Corey (True Grit) get juicy parts as the killers' hard-luck dads. Will Geer (Winchester '73) gets a showy bit as a prosecutor who effectively demolishes the film's own pleadings re: the death penalty. Paul Stewart (Citizen Kane) handles the thankless task of being Truman Capote's mouthpiece.

In Cold Blood is an "author's message" away from perfection. As it is, it's one of the most disturbing, gripping and powerful crime films ever made, and remains a masterpiece in spite of its minor faults.