Garrett Morris | Through the Shattered Lens

In 1971’s The Anderson Tapes, Sean Connery stars as Duke Anderson.

Duke is a career criminal, a safecracker who has just spent ten years in prison. He’s released, alongside Pops (Stan Gottlieb), who spent so much time behind bars that he missed two wars and the Great Depression, and the quirky Kid (Christopher Walken, making his film debut). Duke immediately hooks up with his former girlfriend, Ingrid (Dyan Cannon), and decides to rob the luxury apartment building where Ingrid is now living.

Of course, Duke will have to put together a crew. It’s not a heist film without a quirky crew, is it? Duke recruits the Kid and Pops. (The Kid is happy to be in the game but he’s not a fan of violence. Pops, meanwhile, has none of the skills necessary for living in the “modern” world and would much rather return to prison.) Duke also brings in the flamboyant Tommy Haskins (an overacting Martin Balsam) and driver Edward Spencer (Dick Anthony Williams). Duke goes to the mob for backing and Pat Angelo (Alan King) gives it to him on the condition that he take along a sociopathic racist named Socks (Val Avery) and that Duke kills Socks at some point. Duke reluctantly agrees.

So far, this probably sounds like a conventional heist film. Director Sidney Lumet mixes comedy and drama with uneven results but, overall, he does a good job of ratcheting up the tension and The Anderson Tapes is a good example of one of my favorite mini-genres, the “New Yorkers will be rude to anyone” genre. At first glance, Sean Connery seems to be playing yet another super smooth operator, a confident criminal with a plan that cannot fail. Duke seems like a criminal version of James Bond, However, as the film progresses, we start to suspect that things might be getting away from Duke. When Duke has to go the Mafia for support and is told that killing Socks is now a part of the job, we see that Duke isn’t as in-control of the situation as we originally assumed. This is the rare Sean Connery film where he has someone pushing him around.

(Apparently, Connery took this role as a part of his effort to escape being typecast as Bond. Perhaps that explains why Duke seems like almost a deconstruction of the James Bond archetype.)

Of course, what really lets us know that Duke isn’t as in-charge as he assumes is the fact that four different law enforcement agencies are following his every move. From the minute he gets out of prison, Duke is being watched. The apartment is bugged. Security cameras records his every move. Once the heist begins, we’re treated to flash forwards of breathless news reports. The Anderson Tapes is less a heist film and more a portrait of the early days of the modern Surveillance State. Of course, none of the agencies make any moves to stop Duke because doing so would reveal their own existence. The film really does become a portrait of a government that has gotten so big and intrusive that it’s also lost the ability to actually do anything.

The Anderson Tapes is entertaining, even if it’s not really one of Lumet’s best. Connery is, as always, a fascinating screen presence and it’s always entertaining to see a young Christopher Walken, showing early sings of the quirkiness that would become his signature style. The Anderson Tapes is a portrait of a world where you never know who might be listening.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmw1Llp92PU

For our next entry in Back to School, we take a look at a film that is often referred to as being a “black American Graffiti,” 1975’s Cooley High.

Cooley High follows the adventures of two lifelong friends who are both seniors at Edwin G. Cooley Vocational High School in Chicago, Illinois. The charismatic Cochise (Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs) is a popular and friendly basketball star. Meanwhile, Preach (Glynn Turman) is an aspiring writer who, despite his obvious intelligence, is also one of the worst students at the school. Preach divides his time between skipping school, gambling, and writing poetry. Alone among their friends, Cochise and Preach both seem to have a chance to escape from life in the projects. At the start of the film, Cochise has just received a scholarship to play basketball in college. As for Preach, he’s the eternal optimist. He knows he’s going to make it, even if he doesn’t seem to be quite sure how he’s going to do it.

For the first half of the film, Cooley High is largely a plotless collection of vignettes featuring Cochise, Preach, and their friends skipping school, chasing girls, getting into minor trouble, and trying to avoid major trouble. The emphasis is on comedy but, unlike a lot of high school comedies from the 70s and 80s, the humor grows organically from the characters. Facing a future that’s likely to be dominated by prejudice, poverty, and limited opportunity, what can the students of Cooley High do other than laugh? The second half of the film takes a far more dramatic turn, with Preach and Cochise accused of both stealing a car and snitching on the actual thieves in order to get out of jail. The film’s downbeat conclusion may be predictable but it’s effective all the same.

One reason why I wanted to review Cooley High is because a few months ago, while I was trying to find something to watch on TV, I came across an episode of a show called Unsung Hollywood. The title of the episode was “The Story of Cooley High” and it told the story of how and why this film was made. It was actually pretty interesting to watch, as it featured interviews with screenwriter Eric Monte (who based the character of Preach on himself), director Michael Schultz (who directed a lot of memorable films in the 70s — including Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band — but has never quite gotten the recognition that he deserves), and the film’s two stars. Even more interesting, however, were the interviews with the local Chicago residents who essentially played themselves during the filming of Cooley High. Some of them had fond memories of appearing in the film while others were upset that the film’s box office success didn’t open up any new opportunities for them. Most haunting of all was the fate of an amateur local named Norman Gibson. After giving a genuinely good performance as a petty criminal who comes to a violent end in Cooley High, Gibson was murdered a year after the film was released.

As I mentioned before, Cooley High is often compared to American Graffiti and the two films do have some things in common, like the period setting and a great soundtrack. Ultimately, though, Cooley High can stand on its own.