Papillon (1973) -- Frank Schaffner

Convicted of murdering a pimp, in 1931 Frenchman Henri Charrieri is sent to the infamous prison in French Guiana. Amidst the jungle with its disease and dangerous predators, and surrounded by shark-infested ocean, escape is thought impossible, but Henri spends the next fourteen years plotting and executing several attempts at freedom.

Based on a 1969 bestseller, initially marketed as non-fiction but since considered more accurately a novel based on Charrieri's prison experiences, Papillon tells a story of perseverance. Even if events are embellished, it is a remarkable tale. The film joined perhaps the two biggest Hollywood stars of the day. Steve McQueen plays the title role, which in French means "butterfly," a tattoo of which adorns his chest. Dustin Hoffman plays Louis Dega, a fellow convict and notorious counterfeiter who befriends Papillon on the steamer from France. In exchange for protection against other convicts, Dega promises to finance Papillon's escape attempts.

Papillon and Dega witness a prisoner shot by guards.

I remember reading the novel upon its initial release, and its surprising revelation that prisoners hid money, drugs, or other small valuables in small canisters that they shoved up their rectum. Thankfully the film doesn't depict any insertions but the dialog makes its clear that that practice was a routine one. Authenticity was an aim of director Schaffner, who does a marvelous job depicting the miserable conditions under the brutal French penal system of the day. In one memorable moment the convicts get to witness an execution by guillotine, likely the most realistic sequence of its type ever put on screen. Guards lead a frantic prisoner to the mechanism, push him onto an inclined board that positions his head in the device (lunette) directly beneath the blade. He strains to turn his head upward, the blade comes down with a whomp, the head drops, and the camera is splashed with blood.

Losing one's head in French Guiana. 

Some of the best scenes, and McQueen's best acting, occur with Papillon in solitary confinement. It's an awful place, entered with this advice from the warden: "Put all hope out of your mind. And masturbate as little as possible, it drains the strength!" Absolute silence was the rule amongst prisoners, a circumstance that fits perfectly with McQueen's acting style. Throughout his career he favored as scant a script as possible, relying on expressions and body language to do the work of the character.

In Charrieri's book and the film, Papillon serves two such sentences for failed escapes, the first for two years, and the second for five (in the book, the term is shortened). It's a small cell, just five steps across. Food--an exaggerated characterization to be sure--and water are passed through a small door in pails and a bucket, and periodically the prisoners are inspected for head lice and receive a hair cut by sticking their head out a small trap in the wall. The warden explains that they aren't interested in rehabilitation, just punishment. How any man could withstand such isolation is amazing.

When Dega sneaks Papillon some coconuts to supplement his meager food, the warden puts the prisoner on half-rations for six months because he refuses to disclose who sent them. Papillon never breaks, though it is difficult. He resorts to eating vermin that crawls across his floor. One shot shows him dropping three bugs into his weak soup to give it some substance, including a disgusting looking centipede he cuts in half. The film's best moment occurs as McQueen almost rats out Dega. At the last moment he changes his mind, feigning dementia. McQueen then turns to the camera and eats the message with Dega's name on it.

Though they do a wonderful job on the actor's face to convey the deprivations--dark circles under the eyes, greying hair, teeth ravaged by scurvy--McQueen looks too robust and healthy under his ragged uniform.

A fine example of the actor's accomplished use of non-verbal acting comes as Papillon is released the last time from solitary confinement, his debt to France paid. His shuffled stiff walk across the yard seems perfect for a man made old before his time.

Solitary confinement.

There is some terrific camera work in the film, some high crane shots of the execution and earlier as the prisoners stand in the yard, and of the beautiful blue of the ocean (actually either Jamaica or Hawaii). And the action sequences are well done, particularly one escape attempt with McQueen running through the jungle, pursued by natives with blowguns and darts.  He and Hoffman wrestle with a crocodile in another good scene, arguing over which is the head and which the tail in the muddy water. (Look closely and you might notice the reptile's mouth is tied shut).

There are also a few awkward moments in the film that feel out of place or disrupt the pace. Schaffner inserts two short dreams or hallucinations in the solitary confinement sequences that are jarring, and a longer piece where Papillon spends an unspecified time with a native tribe during one breakout. Totally tangential to the main story line, it emphasizes McQueen's true physical condition as he appears shirtless. Apparently the studio commissary was well-equipped.

Here he takes a lover and inks a tattoo on the chief (played by Victor Joey of all people, who has nary a line of dialog). This excursion ends with the tribe disappearing during the night with no explanation, Papillon seeking sanctuary with some nuns, who promptly turn him over to the authorities for re-incarceration. One wonders if author Charrieri had something against religion.
   

Prisoners stand naked receiving instruction.

 
In any case, by the end, the film makes a magnificent recovery as Papillon finally is released from jail. But having completed his sentence, he is still not allowed to return to France. Instead, he gets the choice of working at the prison or spending the rest of his days on Devil's Island in a simple cottage. He opts for Devil's Island, where we are re-introduced to Dega, who now tends a garden and looks after his hogs. The old friends have not seen one another for at least five years. By now, each actor looks to have aged considerably more than would be expected under a civilized fourteen-year period. The makeup and physical movements are outstanding.

Papillon has not given up his quest for freedom and builds a small raft of coconuts, which he throws off a cliff into the sea, timing the perfect wave to pull him free of the coast. In an overhead shot from a helicopter, we see McQueen lying on his back, a big grin on his face. He calls out triumphantly in a perfect Hollywood ending: "Hey you bastards. I'm still here!"  

A commercial success, the film made the year's top five in gross receipts, it was largely ignored by the Academy, with only one Oscar nomination coming its way, that for Jerry Goldsmith's score. McQueen at least earned a Golden Globe nomination for Best Actor. It's arguably his second best career performance, after Jake Holman in The Sand Pebbles.  In a baffling move, Academy members thought more highly of Robert Redford's pedestrian work in The Sting  than McQueen's performance. 

Charrieri served as a consultant on the film, but died five months before its release. He was 67.

Bullitt (1968) - Peter Yates

Frank Bullitt (Steve McQueen), a San Francisco police lieutenant, is given a seemingly routine assignment: protect a key witness and mob informer in an upcoming US Senate hearing on organized crime. Bullitt has been picked by Walter Chalmers (Robert Vaughn), an ambitious politician who sees the hearings as his ticket to higher office. When the witness is targeted by professional hitmen, Chalmers holds Bullitt responsible. With his career on the line, Bullitt suspects something else is at play and digs deeper into the case.

McQueen's mustang speeds over the streets of San Francisco.

It may not seem like it today, but Bullitt was a ground-breaking film, widely popular for its exciting chase scene. It was the film that solidified McQueen's status as perhaps Hollywood's biggest superstar. Unfortunately, after this he seemed to lose some interest in acting, turning his attentions to other pursuits. He'd make some fine films later, but there were fewer of them. It may not be his best performance, for that I'd go with The Sand Pebbles. But with Bullitt, he reached the peak of his coolness.

Like its lead actor, a cool title sequence starts the action, backed by a terrific jazz score infused with moody bass, sax, and trumpet. Four men are reflected in a metal light fixture, standing outside the glass windows of an office. Their faces are lit from below, colorless and looking grim. A man is hiding inside; he tosses a smoke grenade and escapes as the men smash through the glass, shooting. We don't know it yet, but this is Johnny Ross, who's stolen $2 million from the Chicago mob and is now on the run. We soon understand that he has agreed to appear before a Senate subcommittee on organized crime.

The film likely seems tame by today's standards for police action films, but that is one of its attractions. Director Yates and McQueen's aim for authenticity included moments of routine police procedures as they conduct the investigation, including a key moment when the main characters wait expectantly for a clunky telecopier to send them important information, ancient technology today. There's not a lot of dialog, characteristic of most McQueen films, but plenty of reactive shots of McQueen and his famous blue eyes, listening and thinking. Like Bullitt, the audience will discover that the story is not as simple as it first appears, another aspect that lifts the film above most cop films of the period and since. It takes a while to understand that there is a case of mistaken identity, orchestrated by Ross to throw the mob and the cops off his trail.

Having arrived in San Francisco, Chalmers sequesters his star witness over the weekend in a seedy hotel, under protective custody of Bullitt and his men. That night, gunmen burst in after the man unlatches the door--a seemingly inexplicable action that raises Bullitt's curiosity. Like Bullitt, the viewer's initial assumption is that the mob's behind the hit, but we can't be certain. In any case, the young cop on duty is wounded before the gunmen turn their attention on the startled witness, who is sent flying through the air from a blast in the chest from a pump-action shotgun. It's bloody and violent. Yates gives the audience a hint that something is amiss when the witness cowers backward and says "Now, wait...he told me..."just before he's shot. Bullitt arrives on the scene as an ambulance rushes both victims to the hospital. One of the hit men will try to finish the job at the hospital, which leads to a breif chase. The scene serves to introduce Bullitt to the killers.

McQueen was a keenly subtle actor. A good example is a confrontation between Bullitt and Chalmers at the hospital. The star witness' life hangs in the balance. He and Bullitt watch the medical staff work feverishly from a nearby room. Chalmers makes it clear that he's holding Bullitt responsible, saying Bullitt "blew it." The detective munches a sandwich, nonchalant and avoiding eye contact until he asks, "Who else knew where he was?" The implication is that Chalmers let someone know where Ross was sequestered because the hit men knew where to look and they used Chalmers' name to get into the room. (We never find out who divulged this information. Yates leaves that to our speculation.)

It's a wonderfully tense moment. It's clear these two characters do not like one another. It also demonstrates that the two men are of different worlds, Bullitt a blue-collar, no-nonsense cop; Chalmers smooth and used to the trappings of wealth and influence. He has friends in high places and knows how to pull strings. Bullitt says, "Look, you work your side of the street, and I'll work mine."

"Who else knew where he was?"

Vaughn, usually a limited actor, oozes slime. He's perfect as a politician lacking integrity. He'll use anyone to get ahead, including the San Francisco police department. Later, he confronts Bullitt's boss, Captain Bennett (Simon Oakland), interrupting the family on their way to church. Oakland fits his role nicely, just who you'd want in an experienced police captain: big, rough, and able to take care of himself. Bullitt has a rebellish streak about him, but Bennett is more used to politics and thus more tolerant of men like Chalmers. Still, he's loyal to his own men, and partially as a result of this confrontation the captain gives Bullitt a long leash to solve the case. When later, the victim dies and Bennett learns that Bullitt has stolen the body to prevent Chalmers from closing down the case, he protects his subordinate.

The seminal chase scene is the film's most memorable sequence. At more than nine minutes, it seems shorter. For shear excitement, it was surpassed just three years later by The French Connection, but at the time, it was as thrilling a chase as had ever been filmed, particularly given the hilly terrain of San Francisco. The editing is magnificent and, more than any other sequence, likely secured Frank Keller the film's only Oscar.

Bullitt, driving a green Ford Mustang, notices he is being tailed by two men in a Dodge Charger. Figuring they are ones who struck at the hotel--they don't know their target is dead and hope that Bullitt leads them to the man--he drives normally into a residential section of the city. Anyone familiar with San Francisco will notice certain landmarks, such as Coit Tower, but the ensuing chase takes place in more than one area. The best moment in the film occurs here: the hit men, having lost sight of Bullitt, drive slowly over a hill, looking up side streets as they head down the other side. When the driver glances to his rear-view mirror, Bullitt's car comes over the hill behind--the hunter has become the hunted. The Charger stops at an intersection and the camera cuts to the driver's waist; he buckles his seat belt and you know he's about to put the pedal to metal.

Squealing and smoking his tires, he takes off with Bullitt in hot pursuit. Suddenly, both cars are soaring over hills, catching air with all four tires, sliding dangerously through intersections, and laying rubber around the turns. Here Yates made a great decision to dispense with any musical score. The sounds of the revving engines and the cars flying at speeds in excess of 100 miles an hour provide more than enough drama. Yates also uses plenty of closeups to show the tension on the face of the drivers. If there are no near misses quite as close as The French Connection and the baby carriage, there is still some fine stunt driving involved where the two cars narrowly dodge around oncoming traffic. The significance of the sequence is that it showed film-makers it was possible to stage such a high-speed race in the middle of a city. McQueen reportedly did most of his own driving.

Eventually the two cars hit the highway; they careen and swerve into one another at excessive speed; Bullitt dodges a few shotgun blasts; and the bad guys lose control of their vehicle and crash into a roadside gas station to ignite a thoroughly satisfying fireball. The chase caught the attention of the male audience of the day. Chargers and Mustangs were now the car to own.

Jacqueline Bisset has a few scenes as Bullitt's girlfriend to give the detective a human side. She fears his work will desensitize him and strip him of emotion. If her presence isn't necessary for the film, it doesn't detract from it. Besides, she's extremely attractive. There's also an interesting moment when Bullitt stops into a small grocery and grabs six TV dinners. I like these little throw-away scenes, which help give the character depth.

Bullitt consoles his girlfriend after she sees a murder victim.

After some dogged detective work, Bullitt figures out that Ross hired an impostor to pose as himself -- the man killed in the hotel attack. A search of that man's luggage reveals that airline tickets to Rome are missing. Bullitt hurries to the airport to confront the real Ross. There's another confrontation with Chalmers, who still wants Ross to testify. He condescendingly says to Bullitt, "Come on, now. Don't be naive, Lieutenant. We both know how careers are made. Integrity is something you sell the public." Bullitt responds with disgust: "You sell whatever you want, but don't sell it here tonight." Chalmers urges him to compromise. Bullitt, angry that Ross was responsible for getting his man shot, utters the film's signature line: "Bullshit."

Yates and McQueen stage a suspenseful foot chase, where McQueen runs beneath jet liners as they taxi down the runway. It looks dangerous and the camera makes sure that you know it's really McQueen. There's a brief gun battle as Ross tries to escape, and Bullitt finally gets his man.

Far superior to the Dirty Harry franchise, which started just three years later, Bullitt reflects Peter Yates' considerable talent to bring realism to film. Frank Bullitt is a real cop, dedicated but not infallible. Harry Callahan is almost a superman. Yates would direct another realistic crime film, the terrific The Friends of Eddie Coyle, in 1973. Not as well known as Bullitt, it contains Robert Mitchum's finest late career performance. Told from the perspective of Mitchum's character, a man who gets in over his head, it is a gritty and uncompromising portrayal of the desperate life of a small time hood. No complaints, as Mitchum is great, but I would have loved to have seen McQueen in the role.

The Sand Pebbles (1966) - Robert Wise

A seaman looks across the gangplank at a U.S. gunboat, the San Pablo. Commissioned during the Spanish-American war, it has seen better days. The Navy vessel patrols the Yangtze River in China. It is 1926. A machinist mate first class, the man is a transfer, having been seen as a hard case and maverick by his previous skipper. He wants just one thing--to be left alone. When he enters the engine room after boarding he looks around, smiles, and places a hand on the machinery. "Hello, Engine;" he says. "I'm Jake Holman." Holman is played by Steve McQueen, who gives the most sensitive performance of his career, showing considerably more range than he's usually credited for. He is a quiet man, hard to get to know, and someone you immediately sense carries old hurts inside. He is more comfortable with machinery than people.

Jake Holman reports to the San Pablo.

The crew members call themselves sand pebbles. For the most part they are a sorry bunch, often relying on paid help from Chinese coolies to do their work. And the work is pure drudgery, hot and unrewarding. They spend their days in boredom, and their nights drinking and whoring in the saloons, all the while looking with disdain on the local populace. They are like a lot of men who live in close quarters with little to do and with scant prospects for the future; they are just doing their time and growing ever more slack in their duties, long past the time they felt any pride in wearing a uniform. Holman is destined to stir things up, and amidst the volatile political climate of the country, which is rapidly shaking off its feudal heritage and imperialistic chains, he and the crew will find themselves swept up by something they have little control over. Communist forces start to gain power and threaten to oust all foreigners from the country, and the ship is sent to collect a group of missionaries at the China Light Mission from anti-foreign mobs. Naive and blind to the historic revolution brewing, the missionaries believe god and reason will protect them.

There is a lot in this film to admire: McQueen's acting; the stunning cinematography of Joseph MacDonald, which captures both the exquisite beauty of China and the squalor of its cities; Jerry Goldsmith's lush score; and several fine action sequences. Director Wise was fresh off two enormous successes: West Side Story and The Sound of Music. This was a big departure from those. That he managed to distill a complex story as well as he did is quite an achievement. The source novel by Richard McKenna, his only novel, appeared in 1962. At nearly 600 pages it goes into greater detail about the turmoil affecting the country as nationalism grows. Still, the film is a good half-hour too long. One wonders if Wise was trying to produce an "epic" along the lines of David Lean with Lawrence of Arabia and Doctor Zhivago.

Wise retained the most important parts of the novel, including the budding love affair between Jake and Shirley Eckert (pretty Candice Bergen, just twenty years old at the time). Shirley is a young missionary who manages to touch Jake's heart, cracking his tough exterior. There are a couple of nice scenes between the two as they get to know one another, floating on a serene inlet in a row boat, and Jake trying to toss a stone onto a statue of an elephant. Good luck is said to follow those who succeed. He does, but happiness will prove to be elusive. Both actors convey innocence. McQueen is particularly unassuming here and likable, far different than his typical macho persona.

Holman is an immensely likable character, one that most male viewers could relate to. At the core, he is a traditional American--a loner you can trust to do his job, unobtrusive up to a point; but when incited will give you his all, even if it means sacrificing his own safety for a bigger cause. That he will do this without fully understanding why, makes him that much more attractive and admirable. Wise and McQueen capture these traits beautifully in the last scene, with Holman wounded and under attack. "What happened? he asks himself.
    

Another love affair drags the movie down, that between Jake's friend Frenchie (Richard Attenbourgh) and Maily, a girl forced into prostitution. Although sensitively done, Wise would have been better off to jettison it.

The action sequences include a thrilling attack on a Chinese river blockade by the San Pablo, its crew finally showing some pride, and the chase and murder of Jake's other friend, Po-han (Mako). Po-han is a lovable character, who Jake takes under his wing as his assistant. Po-han struggles with the English language but wants to learn. His lessons are quite funny. His death, at the hands of Chinese rebels, is the most shocking scene in the film, savage and bloody. Jake watches from the deck of the San Pablo as the insurgents capture his friend and string him up on a pole, where the leader commences to slice his chest and stomach with a large knife. The captain, unwilling to incite an international  incident over a coolie, refuses to interfere. McQueen plays the scene perfectly, furious and full of anguish.

The river blockade battle.

There is another tense scene, a violent boxing match involving Po-han and a racist crew mate of Jake's that looks all too real. The sailor is played by Simon Oakland, who towers over the smaller man and out-weights him by a hundred pounds. Wise stages it expertly. The cigarette smoke hangs in the air, the audience drinks and noisily exhorts their betting favorite on, and the fighters exhaust themselves in blood and sweat.

McQueen earned his only Oscar nomination for the film (losing to Paul Scofield in A Man for All Seasons), and the film eight nominations in all. It won none, perhaps indicating that the day of big road-show movies had passed. Both the film and the director were nominated, Wise for the third time. He'd already won two.

Richard Crenna plays the gunboat's captain, a man trying hard to maintain his dignity and the ship's discipline. His confidence is low and at one point he contemplates suicide. He is excellent. His character is the real dramatic center of the film as far as history goes--he represents the tradition of the U.S. Navy, far from home and trying to maintain a foothold in a rapidly changing nation, one that violently resents the Navy's presence. Internal forces are about to explode as the march of history brings American imperialism in China to an end.

Richard Crenna as Captain Collins.

Other Films by Robert Wise:

• Born to Kill 1947
• Run Silent Run Deep 1958
• West Side Story 1961
• The Haunting 1963
• The Sound of Music 1965

Other Films by Steve McQueen:   

• The Great Escape 1963
• Love and the Proper Stranger 1963
• The Cincinnati Kid 1965
• Bullitt 1968
• Papillon 1973