Joe (1970)

Before Death Wish and Straw Dogs there was Joe (1970). John G. Avildsen's vigilante flick aspires to satirize the Generation Gap, pitting the "Silent Majority" against debauched counterculture. Viewed 43 years later, it's more exploitative than thought-provoking.

Ad executive Bill Compton (Dennis Patrick) finds his daughter Melissa (Susan Sarandon) overdosing on drugs. He tracks down Melissa's dope-dealing boyfriend (Patrick McDermott) and kills him in a fit of rage. Shortly afterwards he encounters Joe (Peter Boyle), a working class bigot who openly fantasizes about murdering hippies. Bill lets slip his secret, and Joe ingratiates himself into Bill's life. When Melissa runs away, Joe leads Bill on a bizarre odyssey to find her, leading to a violent confrontation at a hippie commune.

In one sense, Joe perfectly embodies its time period. Joe's introduced ranting in a bar, citing George Wallace in proclaiming that "42 percent of liberals are faggots." He's the American Everyman, frustrated by the Great Society and civil upheavals, dismayed by youth, falling back on self-pity and prejudice. He finds a kindred spirit in the more "respectable" Bill, well-heeled, educated and rich, yet possessing similar prejudices. Just the idea of Melissa consorting with pushers drives him to homicidal rage; what's he done to deserve this? When he and Joe descend into the hippie underworld, their prejudices seem vindicated; two girls seduce them while their boyfriends steal their wallets. Why reason with kids when you can just blow them away?

What's problematic about Joe isn't the message but its presentation. Joe's meant to be a monstrous embodiment of Middle American prejudices rather than a reactionary hero. Yet reports claim that contemporary viewers cheered his actions at film's end. Intentionally or not, it served as a release for '70s Orthogonians, disgusted with the long-haired creeps dragging society into the gutter. Any irony's lost in the final reels; the climactic killing spree is as ill-judged as The Trial of Billy Jack's National Guard massacre, playing less as horrific set piece than cathartic climax.

Joe's certainly provocative but lacks any dramatic credibility. Wexford's story provides little motivation for its characters. That Bill could murder Melissa's creep boyfriend is one thing; that he'd blather about it to a stranger in a bar is merest contrivance. Long scenes of Joe ingratiating himself with Bill and his wife (K Callan) provide some low comedy but really deaden the narrative. Joe and Bill's quest into hippie-dom mainly results in a predictable juxtaposition of sex and violence; the ending's too obviously telegraphed to shock.

Peter Boyle dominates the show. Blunt, violent and vulgar, he embodies the working class stiff disgusted by Boomer excesses and eager to put his bigotry into action. It's quite different from his comic turns in Young Frankenstein and TV's Everybody Loves Raymond. Dennis Patrick can't help seeming colorless in comparison. Doe-eyed Susan Sarandon makes her film debut, but it's not much of a part - Melissa's always frazzled, naked or both.

Joe has its moments, but is mainly a confused mess. A big hit in its day, it's now a curious time capsule, celebrating attitudes it purports to deconstruct.