Leonard Barr | Through the Shattered Lens

1977’s Record City opens with a montage of rear-focused close-ups of women wearing short shorts and that pretty much tells you all that you really need to know about the film. It’s crass, shameless, and very much a product of its time.

The film takes place over the course of one day at a California vinyl record shop. It’s tempting to compare the film to something like Empire Records but, unlike Empire Records, Record City suggests that working in a record store is perhaps the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone. The store is dirty and grimy. The customers are rude and played by vaguely familiar comedy actors, all of whom seem to have been bitten by the overacting bug before stepping in front of the camera. The employees all seem to hate each other. Marty (Tim Thomerson) keeps getting slapped and kicked by Vivian (Deborah White). Vivian keeps getting groped by almost every customer and employee who walks by her. The only thing that Vivian hates more than men is other women. The store’s owner (Jack Carter) is in trouble with the mob. The store’s manager (Michael Callan) is lech who wears gold chains, keeps his shirt unbuttoned, and who expects the new cashier, Lorraine (Wendy Schaal), to sleep with him because, after all, he did hire her. Danny (Dennis Bowen) is the shy guy with a crush on Lorraine. Rupert (Stuart Goetz) is the nerdy virgin who goes from wearing a bowtie to dressing like a swinger but he still can’t get laid. Both the customers and the employees are paranoid about “fairies” coming into Record City. Pokey (Ed Begley, Jr.) wants to hold the place up and who can blame him? Really, the only likable employee is a black man known only as The Wiz and that’s just because he’s played by Ted Lange. (Yes, Isaac the Bartender from The Love Boat.) Lange gets to perform a song at the end of the film.

When the film isn’t focused on the antics inside Record City, it’s all about the talent show that’s taking place in a nearby parking lot. The talent show is hosted by radio DJ Gordon Kong (Rick Dees) and it gives the film an excuse to trot out a bunch of cameos, some of whom are more recognizable than others. For instance, Gallagher — the comedian with the sledgehammer — shows up. Kinky Friedman also shows up, playing himself and looking for records at Record City. When he spots a woman with a blonde bowl cut and glasses, he accuses her of being John Denver and then grabs her breasts. And to think — less than 30 years later, Kinky Friedman would run for governor of my homestate.

Anyway, this is a terrible and rather boring movie but I did find it interesting for one reason. It’s the reason why I find so many grindhouse films to be interesting. Shot on location and for no other reason than to make money, Record City is a true product of its time. There’s no attempt to try to make the 70s look nicer than they were. There’s no attempt to try to make the record store look like anything more than a tacky establishment. There’s an honesty to how low-rent the whole thing is. Watching the movie is like stepping into a time machine and getting a chance to experience the past firsthand. I was born long after the 70s but, after watching this film, I now feel like I’ve been there.

Earlier tonight, as a part of their 31 Days of Oscar, TCM aired The Sting, the film that the Academy selected as being the best of 1973. I just finished watching it and what can I say? Based on what I’ve seen of the competition (and there were a lot of great films released in 1973), I would not necessarily have picked The Sting for best picture. However, the movie is still fantastic fun.

The Sting reunited the director (George Roy Hill) and the stars (Robert Redford and Paul Newman) of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and told yet another story of likable criminals living in the past. However, whereas Butch Cassidy largely satirized the conventions of the traditional Hollywood western, The Sting is feels like a loving homage to the films of 1930s, a combination of a gritty, low-budget gangster film and a big budget musical extravaganza. The musical comparison may sound strange at first, especially considering that nobody in The Sting randomly breaks out into song. However, the musical score (which is famously dominated by Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer) is ultimately as much of a character as the roles played by Redford, Newman, and Robert Shaw. And, for that matter, the film’s “let-pull-off-a-con” plot feels like an illegal version of “let’s-put-on-a-show.”

The film takes place in the 1936 of the cultural imagination, a world dominated by flashy criminals and snappy dialogue. When con artists Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford) and Luther Coleman (Robert Earl Jones) inadvertently steal money from a gangster named Lonnegan (Robert Shaw), Lonnegan has Luther murdered. Fleeing for his life, Hooker goes to Chicago where he teams up with Luther’s former partner, veteran con man Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman). Gondorff used to be one of the great con artists but he is now living in self-imposed obscurity, spending most of his time drinking and trying to avoid the FBI. Hooker wants to get revenge on Lonnegan by pulling an elaborate con on him. When Gondorff asks Hooker why, Hooker explains that he can either con Lonnegan or he can kill him and he doesn’t know enough about killing.

The rest of the film deals with Hooker and Gondorff’s plan to con Lonnegan out of a half million dollars. It’s all very elaborate and complicated and a bit confusing if you don’t pay close enough attention and if you’re ADHD like me. But it’s also a lot of fun and terrifically entertaining and that’s the important thing. The Sting is one of those films that shows just how much you can accomplish through the smart use of movie star charisma. Redford and Newman have such great chemistry and are so much fun to watch that it really doesn’t matter whether or not you always understand what they’re actually doing.

It also helps that, in the great 70s tradition, they’re taking down stuffy establishment types. Lonnegan may be a gangster but he’s also a highly respected and very wealthy gangster. When Newman interrupts a poker game, Lonnegan glares at him and tells him that he’ll have to put on a tie before he’s allowed to play. Lonnegan may operate outside the law but, in many ways, he is the establishment and who doesn’t enjoy seeing the establishment taken down a notch?

As entertaining as The Sting may be and as influential as it undoubtedly is (Steven Soderbergh’s Ocean films may be a lot more pretentious — which makes sense considering that Soderbergh is one of the most pretentious directors in film history — but they all owe a clear debt to The Sting), it still feels like an unlikely best picture winner. Consider, for instance, that The Sting not only defeated American Graffiti and The Exorcist but Ingmar Bergman’s Cries and Whispers as well. On top of that, when you consider some of the films that were released in 1973 and not nominated — Mean Streets, Badlands, The Candy Snatchers, Day of the Jackal, Don’t Look Now, Jesus Christ Superstar, and The Long Goodbye — it’s debatable whether The Sting should have been nominated at all. That’s not a criticism of The Sting as much as it’s an acknowledgement that 1973 was a very good year in film.