Icarus File No. 29: 1776 (dir by Peter R. Hunt)


The year is 1776.  The British have landed in Canada and are now marching towards New York with the intention of putting down a revolultion that has sprung up over issues like unfair taxation.  In Philadelphia, John Adams (William Daniels) is frustrated by the refusal the second Continental Congress to take up debate on whether or not the 13 North American colonies should announce their official independence from Britian.  Every day, Adams steps into the chamber and demands that the Congress take some action.  And, every day, his fellow deletates sing, “Sit down, John!”

Yes, you read that correctly.  They sing it.

Based on a 1969 Broadway musical, 1776 features a lot of singing, a lot talking, and not much else.  This is a film about the debate surrounding the writing of the Declaraiton of Independence that sometimes feels as if it’s telling its story in real time.  It’s no shock when Benjaming Franklin (Howard Da Silva) continually falls asleep at his desk or when Thomas Jefferson (Ken Howard) sings that he’d rather be home.  This is a nearly 3-hour film that feels like 3 months.  Some films about the Revolutionary War emphasize the brilliance of the Founding Fathers.  Some films emphazie the struggle to be free.  Other films emphasize the daily violence of serving in the army.  1776 captures the monotony of being trapped in a room full of cranky middle-aged men who will not stop talking.  The film dutifully captures every debate and controversy.  When John Adams shouts at everyone to get on with it, it’s hard not to sympathize until you realize that Adams himself is a huge reason why nothing ever seems to get done.  There’s only so many hours in the day that can be devoted to singing songs.

Perhaps the most shocking thing about 1776 is that it was realsed in 1972.  Nothing about 1776 suggests that it’s a product of the same era in which Bob Fosse was redefining the musical with Caberet and Francis Ford Coppola was refefining the historial epic with The Godfather and John Boorman was risking the lives of Burt Reynolds and Jon Voight to capture a weekend rafting trip.  There’s nothing about Peter R. Hunt’s direction to suggest that this film was made in the same era that saw Robert Altman playfully reinventing genres ranging from the service comedy to the detective film to the ensemble musical.  At a time when American directors were rebelling against convention and experimenting with new ways to tell stories, 1776 is a lengthy, dramatically inert and stagebound Broadway adaptation.  In style and look, it feels like a cinematic product of the 1950s or the early 60s, a film that was made when Hollywood’s only competition was from television.  Even Thomas Jefferson’s longing for his wife (Blythe Danner) is played discreetly.  When she finally does show up in Philadelphia, Jefferson closes the shudders.  When John Adams and Benjamin Franklin notice that the shudders are still closed hours later, it’s treated as a moment for everyone in the audience to turn red as they try not to giggle.  They’re having sex, the audience is meant to think, Good thing they’re married!  It’s a moment that feels as natural and human as Sandra Dee looking over her shoulder and winking as she goes off with Troy Donahue.

The key to understanding 1776 is to be found in the opening credits.  “Produced by Jack Warner.”  By the time 1776 went into production, Warner had been a Hollywood mogul for 54 years.  He started his career in the silent era and he built Warner Brothers into one of Hollywood’s most successful studios.  When he was younger, he was the one breaking the rules, making gangster movies and turning actor like James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart, and Edward G. Robinson into stars.  However, by the time he made 1776, Warner was the last of a dying breed.  Despite having greenlit Bonnie and Clyde, one of the seminal “Now Hollywood” productions, the older Jack Warner had little use for the Hollywood counterculture.  1776 was reportedly a pet project for Jack Warner, a film that he took a strong hand in producting and which he expected would sweep the box office and the Oscars.  Warner recruited the majority of the show’s Broadway cast to appear in the film.  Warner personally ordered the remove of a musical number that seemed to discreetly critcize the Vietnam War.  Warner even went on TV to promote the film.  During an interview on the Merv Griffin Show, Warner launched into a triade about “pinko commies.”  I imagine Warner had a point about the communists but it still was probably not the right way to promote the film in the 1970s.  While other films invited the counterculture into Hollywood, 1776 was essentially Jack Warner shouting, “Stay off my lawn!” with the voice of William Daniels.

1776 was a last attempt to hold onto the old way of making movies.  It was a film about a revolution that was desgined to thwart another revolution.  The Continental Congress was menaced by the British.  Jack Warner was menaced by the shadows of Coppola, Scorsese, and Friedkin.  It would be Jack Warner’s final film as a producer.  He died in 1974, still one of the towering figures in the history of Hollywood.  Of the old time moguls, only Adolph Zuker and Darryl F. Zanuck outlasted Jack Warner.

When Hamilon first came out in 2025, it was often described as being the antidote to 1776Hamilton was entertaining where 1776 was stodgy.  Well, maybe.  1776 may lack great songs but it doesn’t really have any truly bad ones either.  Instead, it’s just a very middle-of-the-road show, inoffensive and designed to keep the tourits happy.  Hamilton was viewed as being revolutionary when it was released but now it feels a bit gimmicky, with both the show and the almost religious initial enthusiasm for it feeling like somewhat embarassing artifacts from a different era.  (From the coverage during the Hamilton’s heyday, you would think no one but Lin-Manuel Miranda had ever written about Alexander Hamilton or Aaron Burr before.)  There is a great film to be made about the Continental Congress but it probably doesn’t invovle any singing.

As for 1776, William Daniels is amusing when he gets frusrated and Blythe Danner is far prettier than the real Martha Jefferson and the film itself is a forgettable tribute to the great men who foudned a great country.

Previous Icarus Files:

  1. Cloud Atlas
  2. Maximum Overdrive
  3. Glass
  4. Captive State
  5. Mother!
  6. The Man Who Killed Don Quixote
  7. Last Days
  8. Plan 9 From Outer Space
  9. The Last Movie
  10. 88
  11. The Bonfire of the Vanities
  12. Birdemic
  13. Birdemic 2: The Resurrection 
  14. Last Exit To Brooklyn
  15. Glen or Glenda
  16. The Assassination of Trotsky
  17. Che!
  18. Brewster McCloud
  19. American Traitor: The Trial of Axis Sally
  20. Tough Guys Don’t Dance
  21. Reach Me
  22. Revolution
  23. The Last Tycoon
  24. Express to Terror 
  25. 1941
  26. The Teheran Incident
  27. Con Man
  28. Looker

Film Review: Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (dir by Michael Cimino)


1974’s Thunderbolt and Lightfoot opens with two men, one young and one middle-aged, facing a moment of truth.

The younger of the two is Lightfoot (Jeff Bridges), a wild and hyperactive rich kid who is in his 20s and who steals a corvette right off of a used car lot.  The other man is simply known by his nickname, Thunderbolt (Clint Eastwood).  When we first see Thunderbolt, he’s giving a sermon in a small Montana church.  When a gun-wielding man steps into the church and promptly starts firing at Thunderbolt, he takes off running.  Pursued by his attacker, Thunderbolt runs through a field and just happens to jump onto Lightfoot’s speeding corvette.  Lightfoot runs over the Thunderbolt’s pursuer.  Thunderbolt slips into the car and Lightfoot drives on for a bit.  Lightfoot is excited and talkative.  Thunderbolt is more concerned with popping his shoulder back into its socket.  A stop at a gas station leads to the men stealing someone else’s car.

And so it goes for a good deal of the movie.  Thunderbolt and Lightfoot is a road movie, the majority of which is taken up with scenes of the two men just hanging out.  Thunderbolt and Lightfoot take an instant liking to each other.  When Lightfoot picks up a prostitute (Catherine Bach), he makes sure to ask that she bring along a friend for Thunderbolt.  When a criminal punches Lightfoot, Thunderbolt is quick to punch back.  “That’s for the kid,” Thunderbolt says.  That’s the type of friendship that they have.  Jeff Bridges is handsome and full of energy as Lightfoot and Clint Eastwood smiles more in this film than I think I’ve seen him smile in any other film.  For once, Eastwood is not playing a perpetually grumpy stranger or a supercop.  Instead, he’s just a blue collar guy who enjoys having a friend to travel with.

Eventually, Thunderbolt and Lightfoot meet up with two of Thunderbolt’s former associates.  Red (George Kennedy) is a brutal brawler who, it is suggested, served with Thunderbolt in the Korean War.  Goody (Geoffrey Lewis) is a gentle soul who takes orders from Red but still can’t bring himself to shoot anyone, no matter how much Red demands that he pull the trigger.  Red and Goody have always assumed that Thunderbolt stole the loot from a bank robbery that they pulled off.  Thunderbolt explains that he didn’t steal the money.  He just got arrested after hiding it.  Lightfoot suggests that maybe the four of them could pull off another bank heist….

Kennedy and Lewis are perfectly cast as the two criminals who end up working with Thunderbolt and Lightfoot.  In many ways, the relationship between Red and Goody mirrors the relationship between our lead characters.  The main difference is that Red is sadistic and quick to loose his temper, whereas Thunderbolt controls his emotions and tries not to hurt anyone while committing his crimes.  Lightfoot looks up to Thunderbolt and Goody looks up to Red.  Again, the difference is that Thunderbolt actually cares about Lightfoot, whereas Red is incapable of truly caring about anyone but himself.  Eastwood, Bridges, Kennedy, and Lewis make quite a team and it’s hard not to worry about all four of them, especially when the film takes an unexpectedly dramatic turn during its third act.

I really wasn’t expecting Thunderbolt and Lightfoot to make me cry but the final thirty minutes of the film brought tears to my eyes as what started out as a buddy comedy turned into a tragedy.  (I shouldn’t have been surprised.  I’ve seen enough 70s movies that I really should have known better than to have expected a happy ending.)  Thanks to the perceptive script by Michael Cimino (who would go on to make The Deer Hunter and Heaven’s Gate) and the performances of Eastwood and Bridges, the movie’s final moments carry quite a punch and they leave you wondering if Thunderbolt and Lightfoot’s road trip was worth the price that was ultimately paid.  The film works as not only a tribute to friendship but also as a fatalistic portrait of life on the backroads of America.

Thunderbolt and Lightfoot was the first Eastwood film to receive an Oscar nomination, with Jeff Bridges competing for Best Supporting Actor.  (He lost to Robert De Niro’s star turn in The Godfather, Part II.)  Eastwood, reportedly, felt that he deserved a nomination for his performance as Thunderbolt and, considering that that Oscar itself was won by Art Carney for his pleasant but hardly revelatory work in Harry and Tonto, Eastwood was correct.  Instead, Eastwood would have to wait for another 18 years before he finally received Academy recognition for starring in, producing, and directing Unforgiven.