Three Days of the Condor

I first saw Three Days of the Condor (1975) freshman year of college on a Friday night TCM triple-bill with The Day of the Jackal and Marathon Man. Watching so many thrillers so late probably turned my brain to mush, as I found Condor murky and hard to follow.

On a second go-around, I enjoyed Condor a lot more. Sydney Pollack's spy extravaganza is one of the smarter '70s thrillers, mixing its anti-government paranoia with a coherent plot, great cast and ace direction.

CIA analyst John Turner (Robert Redford) takes an early lunch break and returns to find his co-workers murdered. After getting ambushed during an agency "pick-up," Turner goes on the lam, enlisting the reluctant help of Kathy (Faye Dunaway) to evade his superiors. Spymaster Higgins (Cliff Robertson) initially thinks Turner killed his colleagues, but discovers the hit team came from inside the Company. The key to the mystery is Joubert (Max Von Sydow), a French contract killer with inscrutable allegiances.

Three Days of the Condor shrewdly tapped into then-contemporary angst. In 1975 Congress convened the Church Committee, which showed that CIA skullduggery extended far beyond Watergate. Testimony confirmed long-standing rumors about agency involvement in overseas coups and assassinations, domestic surveillance and infiltration of media and student groups. Suddenly no government conspiracy seemed too outlandish or paranoid. Condor's depiction of an Everyman taking on the CIA served as powerful wish fulfillment for disillusioned Americans.

Condor is certainly a fantasy. Pollack takes the Oliver Stone view that the CIA generates its own policy, an awkward dodge that shields policymakers from criticism or responsibility. I'd also think it easier (and less risky) to quietly destroy an intelligence memo than to kill everyone who might have seen it. But the portrayal of a CIA whose leaders lie to and deceive each other is more interesting and believable than the monolithic fever dreams of The Parallax View. Nor has the film especially dated: the covert cornering of natural resources, even at the risk of war, certainly tacks with post-9/11 concerns.

Pollack and writers Lorenzo Semple Jr. and David Rayfield craft a thriller that flows smoothly, even if its plot threads get a bit tangled. Pollack makes great use of silence and ambient noise in his set pieces: the opening hit, Turner's slugfest with a Company goon and a tense elevator ride with Joubert. The biggest detriment is Kathy, a useless character clearly shoehorned in as a token love interest. On the other hand, Pollack and Co. can't be blamed for covering all their bases.

Robert Redford is perfect: handsome, a brainy whiz kid and a scrappy fighter, he's more than a match for his perfidious bosses. Faye Dunaway gets a lousy character, developing an acute case of Stockholm Syndrome that makes her jump into bed with Turner within hours of her kidnapping! Cliff Robertson (The Best Man) gets one of his best roles as the reptilian spymaster, and Max Von Sydow's (Shutter Island) amusingly detached hit man makes a delicious villain. John Houseman (Seven Days in May) turns up briefly as a CIA bigwig.

Three Days of the Condor is among the best of the '70s spy thrillers. It maintains the government skepticism of its peers while remaining at least internally plausible, and is plenty entertaining to boot.

Stay tuned for a special Valentine's Day post!

Jeremiah Johnson

In lieu of reviewing yet another mediocre musical I stupidly decided to watch (hello, Dreamgirls!), here's a review of Sydney Pollack's 1972 Western Jeremiah Johnson - a decidedly unique and different Western of a sort rarely made by Hollywood, or anyone else really. It has a lot more going for it than mere novelty, however.

The title character (Robert Redford) is a drifter and presumed Army deserter who, in around 1850, decides to strike out for the wide-open frontier of the Old West and live as a self-sufficient mountaineer. Jeremiah struggles to adapt to his new life, until he's helped by grizzled fur trapper Bear Claw (Will Geer) and eccentric ne'er-do-well Del Gue (Stefan Gierasch). Jeremiah befriends a tribe of Flathead Indians and marries Swan (Delle Bolton), the daughter of their chief (Richard Angarola); he also adopts an orphaned boy (Josh Albee) who has survived a Blackfeet massacre, and the trio set up shop in the mountains. When Jeremiah helps a troop of cavalry cross a mountain pass on sacred Crow land, however, his makeshift family is slain by vengeful Indians - leading Jeremiah on a long and bloody vendetta against their killers.

Jeremiah Johnson scores some points for its premise alone. The story of trappers and mountain-men is only rarely told in Hollywood; while pop culture of the 19th and early 20th Centuries celebrated "squaw men" like Davy Crocket and Daniel Boone, who forsook white society for solitary existence in the Wilderness, few movies have actually been made on the subject. Certainly it's refreshing to see a film mostly bereft of the usual gunslinger/pioneer/bandit/cowboys-and-Indians trappings. But it's more than just the idea and story that sells the film. From the dialogue to the music to the gorgeous scenery to the pitch-perfect cast, the film has a complete sense of authenticity.

The film's wonderful moral ambiguity is perhaps its best feature. It lacks the politicking of many contemporary Westerns (The Wild Bunch, Ulzana's Raid, Duck You Sucker!), and mostly lacks the conventional heroics one might expect from the genre; it simply tells a story well. The film is mostly careful to avoid painting either Indians or settlers as "bad", which is welcome; along with Black Robe and Broken Arrow, it's one of the few films to give a nuanced and fairly accurate depiction of Native Americans without resorting to the Noble Savage stereotype of, say, Dances With Wolves or Little Big Man. The cavalry troop violates Crow land but only to deliver food and supplies to starving settlers (shades of the Donner Party?); the Crow's raid on the Johnson homestead is merely a retaliation against that. Jeremiah's vendetta against the Crow is the only part of the film that approaches cliche or convention, but the film redeems the blood-soaked heroics with a wonderfully unexpected conclusion. Commendably, the film doesn't make any broad statements about imperialism or settlement of the West; it's simply the story of a man trying to survive in a rough and cruel wilderness. And for that, the film deserves a lot of commendation.

Sydney Pollack provides wonderful direction; he uses his cast economically and well, and makes the most of a truly awe-inspiring set of locations. The film has an endless variety of beautiful scenery, from frozen, snowbound mountain-tops to sandy desert to pristine woodland; the movie certainly has a lot of variety in its locations, all captured beautifully by Duke Callaghan's cinematography. The art direction and costume design are rough-hewn and period-perfect, creating a wonderful sense of authenticity. The music is also worthy of praise: Tim McIntire and John Rubinstein contribute a wonderfully authentic, rustic and evocative score that adds immeasurably to the film.

Special praise, I think, goes out for the script: if there's a better duo of collaborating screenwriters than John Milius (The Wind and the Lion) and Edward Anhalt (Becket) out there (maybe Robert Bolt and Michael Wilson), I'd like to know about it; their script is wonderfully economical and sparse, with long passages without speech; the scant dialogue that is provided is appropriately rustic and colorful without overdoing it. This is one of the few Westerns that actually sounds period-authentic in its dialogue.

Robert Redford carries most of the film admirably; his tough, misanthropic mountain man is a departure from his usual breezy persona, and Redford gives very near a career-best turn. The film is very frequently stolen, however, by a colorful supporting cast, particularly Will Geer as the wily trapper who teaches Jeremiah the tricks of the trade, and Stefan Gierasch as an eccentric drifter with a grudge against Indians. The Indian cast acquits themselves well; Joaquin Martinez, Richard Angalora and the beautiful Del Bolton all give brief but fine performances.

Jeremiah Johnson is a great film and a wonderfully unique and original entry in the Western genre. Many other Westerns are better as entertainment and art, but few match the film's stark, unforgiving sense of realism.

Rating: 8/10 - Highly Recommended