A Retrospective Review By Cesare Augusto Directed by: John Flynn Written by: Paul Schrader Starring: Major Charles “Charley” Rane – WILLIAM DEVANE Sgt. Johnny Vohden – TOMMY LEE JONES Linda Forchet – LINDA HAYNES The Texan – JAMES BEST Automatic Slim – LUKE ASKEW (WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD) Anyone who’s lived through the early 1970s ought to be familiar with how volatile and violent that era was, both in reality, and on the big screen. Having been born in 1983, I can’t say that I can relate from experience. But from what I read in the history books, the beginning and middle of that decade were no picnics. The Vietnam War was on its last legs, yet the body counts continued to climb on both sides. American politics were dealt a heavy blow when the Nixon Administration was accused of dirty tricks after the botched 1972 break-in of the Democratic National Headquarters, leading to “Tricky Dick’s” resignation. And rising crime rates were spiraling out of control in major cities all over the world. In other words, the proverbial shit had hit the fan. Things had gotten so bad, it’s almost as if the negative zeitgeist of the times influenced filmmakers to make movies inspired by the madness all around them. Hence, revenge and vigilante movies became the hottest cinematic trend. “Dirty” Harry Callahan blew holes the size of fists into deranged killers. Paul Kersey (Charles Bronson) launched a one-man civilian crusade against the scum who brutalized his family in Death Wish. Even career criminals like “Gator” McCluskey (Burt Reynolds) and Jack Carter (Michael Caine) dispensed their own personal brands of twisted justice in White Lightning and Get Carter, respectively. Possibly motivated by the actual chaos themselves, mainstream movie audiences flocked in droves to see these action pieces. They couldn’t get enough of these he-man types who wielded the biggest, baddest weapons they could get their hands on, and subsequently laid waste on evil-doers in gratuitous Hollywood fashion. Shakespeare, they weren’t, but at the end of the day, these pictures were pure mindless unrealistic fun escapism, no more, no less. Then there’s Rolling Thunder, a gloriously new take on the revenge picture, a horse of a different, bloody color. The film was the dual creative brainchild of prolific screenwriter Paul Schrader and master genre director John Flynn. Just one year prior in 1976, Schrader released his arguably greatest product, the blood-soaked New York crime odyssey Taxi Driver, and the thriller genre (perhaps even film in general) would never be the same again. While Rolling might not boast the same cinematic legacy celebrated by Taxi, Rolling shares a great certain artistic distinction held by Taxi¸ and that’s the full, prolonged effort that both films make to fully explore its characters. One of Paul Schrader’s creative signature touches from his earlier 70s works was to dedicate great amounts of his screenplays’ running times in getting inside his protagonists’ heads and discovering what kind of internal short-fused powder kegs they have waiting to blow. In Taxi Driver, Travis Bickle ( Robert De Niro in a performance that’s often duplicated, and never replicated) quietly seethes as he bears witness to the ugly grime of New York’s crime-ridden streets, before eventually gearing up for a personal crusade of gorily epic proportions. Schrader himself was quoted as saying he gained firsthand knowledge of the Big Apple’s urban jungle while driving a cab as research for this screenplay. It’s say to guess he witnessed more than his share of New York-bred chaos of its day, thus influencing his writing. In Rolling Thunder, the audience meets Major Charles Rane (William Devane), a broken warrior who embarks on an odyssey of vengeance against the criminals who utterly ruins his life. A United States Air Force Veteran and a former “guest” of the notorious “Hanoi Hilton,” Charley returns to a hero’s welcome at his home town of San Antonio, Texas, following years of brutal captivity and torture at the hands of the Vietcong. His fellow citizens shower him with cheers and lavish gifts like a brand-spanking new red Cadillac and $2,000 worth of silver dollars. His arrival is a damn sight better than other soldiers returning from the war. Accompanying him on his journey home is his friend and comrade-in-arms Sergeant Johnny Vohden (a strikingly-young and sobering Tommy Lee Jones). Both look sharp and powerful in their crisp Air Force officer suits and dark aviator shades. Despite the welcoming committee’s joyful fanfare and their tough military poses, both Charley and Johnny are curiously distant and almost oblivious to the reception before them. You don’t need a psychology degree to sense the obvious PTSD inherent deep within both men. Judging from their cold, detached demeanors, their almost trance-like states, and Charley’s harrowing flashbacks of his regular torture sessions by the VC, the idea of freedom clearly hasn’t registered in either of them. Both Charley and Johnny are still prisoners of war in their own minds. Rolling Thunder’s entire first act reserves itself in venturing into Charley’s attempts at re-assimilating back to his civilian life, and it does so brilliantly. Other movies typically would utilize their protagonist’s Vietnam War experiences as mere backdrops or rapid-fire edited snippets into their character exposition, before quickly escalating the film’s pace to accommodate its plot. Paul Schrader’s thrillers do nothing of the sort. He deliberately wrote Rolling Thunder as a slow-burn so that we closely observe Major Charles Rane’s attempts at getting his life back in order. Charley’s young son Mark slowly warms up to him, even if the boy barely recognizes his father. His wife morosely admits to falling for a new man, a friendly local cop named Cliff who also acts as a surrogate father to Mark. You’d think Charley would go completely batshit crazy at the idea of another man stealing his family away. On the contrary; Charley took the news of his wife’s engagement to Cliff rather well. All he really wants is to be a part of his son’s life again. Thing is, would his sanity be a factor in at least sharing joint custody? Quite likely, and Devane captures that quite effectively in his performance. He portrays Charley’s need for normalcy with quiet desperation that’s borders on dread and sheer rage resulting from his horrible wartime memories. Devane depicts his character’s post-traumatic stress like a caged animal, literally and figuratively. The way Charley isolates himself in his work shed/makeshift bedroom as he subjects himself to his torture flashbacks is an agonizing, yet necessary means of understanding Major Charley Rane the man, the character, and the hero – or anti-hero - of this dark tale. Adding a further human element is a lovely young lady named Linda Forchet, played by the beautiful, wonderful Linda Haynes. Ms. Forchet, a self-professed “military groupie,” explains to Charley that she’s eagerly awaited his return from captivity, even going as far as wearing his ID bracelet to honor his sacrifices. With his impending divorce, Charley could sure use the pleasant feminine distraction, and Lord knows he could use it. Haynes presence provides some much needed light into the film’s darkness, and it’s still only the first act! The chemistry between Devane and Haynes is a much needed “calm before the storm” before the film’s official plot kicks in. And when the plot kicks in, boy, it feels like a damn boot to the jaw! Charley receives the biggest shock of his already messed-up life when a quartet of criminal low-lives invade his home. They got their sights on Charley’s silver dollar POW fortune. Their ringleader is “the Texan” (James Best of The Dukes of Hazard fame), a fat sweaty, greasy good ol’ boy who will do whatever it takes to get his grubby fingers all over the silver dollars, including pounding the living shit out of Charley. I’ve seen my share of vicious movie bad guys from the 70s alone, and while the Texan appears to be your garden-variety greedy criminal, his right hand man, Automatic Slim (terrific vintage character actor Luke Askew), is in a league all his own. Slim has something else in mind other than just a shitload of silver coins. Apparently he too is a Vietnam vet who, in his own words, “was deep in the mud while you flyboys (like Charley) was flyin’ overhead.” This character revelation reveals one of the most unique and utterly devastating hero/villain dynamics that I’ve ever seen. We see one bitter war veteran taking his past frustrations and own PTSD on another vet. It’s safe to assume that Slim was an infantry soldier on the Vietnamese battleground. While he saw carnage up-close, he felt a perceived envy against an Air Force veteran like Charley, who Slim coldly berates as a “flyboy.” Upon witnessing this interchange, it became more than obvious to me that Automatic Slim wasn’t motivated by greed alone, but by a bare-toothed bitter jealousy induced by rivalry between American military branches. But wasn’t Slim aware of Charley’s POW captivity? It’s also apparent he was never tortured by the Cong! What follows is an exercise in savagery not seen in a mainstream film since the male sodomy scene from Deliverance. It’s a truly violent sequence that gives Rolling Thunder the “exploitation” label given by its most cynical critics, and I can’t say I blame them for thinking it. When they couldn’t make Charley talk by beating him, the Texan, Automatic Slim, and their two Mexican henchmen go to extremes by destroying his right hand into a garbage disposal. Rolling Thunder’s filmmakers shot footage of the destruction of Charley’s hand by filming a fake human hand, and a lamb shank, to simulate such a gruesome gnarling. According to movie lore, the film’s home invasion and torture scenes proved so violently graphic that during preview screenings, movie audience reactions ranged from faints to audience members even physically acting theater personnel in anger. Yes, folks, it was THAT graphically vivid and profound a scene for some audiences. Naturally, the film’s studio heads at Twentieth-Century Fox demanded a re-cut of the scene. Instead of showing Charley’s hand getting ground to ribbons, the filmmakers edited more flashbacks of his POW torture instead. Not that the change truly matters: the sheer look of agony on Charley’s face says it all. The depravity of the thugs’ actions begs the question: why the HELL didn’t Charley just give up where he hid the coins to his attackers? Due to two possible reasons: being a former POW, he’s endured worse torture (except, of course, the grinding of his hand) and plumb refuses to be intimidated by these slime-balls. And second: they were likely going to kill him anyway. As it turns out, the final reason rings true: Charley’s wife and son come into the scene and are gunned down before his very eyes before being shot himself. Needless to say, the home invasion scene is the catalyst that finally drives Charley over the edge. As he recuperates in hospital, Charley further isolates himself and disguises his feelings from everyone, including Linda and Cliff. Only his old war buddy Johnny understands Charley’s true inner feelings best (“You can’t just let this slide, Major. They don’t have any right to live…”). It’s during these hospital recovery scenes when we the audience are introduced to one of Cult Cinema’s deadliest and most unique improvised weapons ever brandished: Charley’s steel-covered prosthetic hook which replaced his severed right hand. It takes him a while to adjust to his new makeshift appendage. But when he does, he turns it into a highly effective melee weapon which he uses to hack and slash the flesh of his quarry. To me, the Rolling Thunder hook is synonymous with my passion for gritty, lower budgeted revenge thrillers. The weapon’s crude yet brutal simplicity reminds me of how damn cool Cult Cinema can be. In fact, there is a fantastic montage where Charley gears up his personal arsenal consisting of a sawed-off shotgun, a revolver pistol, and of course, his trusty hook, which he grinds for full sharpened ferocity. The film emphasizes the hook so strongly that it’s almost a character in of itself, and it’s just as badass as its wielder! Rolling Thunder’s second act inevitably focuses on Charley’s warpath against the grimy scum who ruined his life. However, again as opposed to more conventional thriller flicks that overdo its action sequences, the film still takes a deliberate slow pace on its characters. The film isn’t a 100% “roaring rampage of revenge” like other 70s thrillers like to declare; the filmmakers prefer to explore our protagonist’s inner machinations. Charley could always just hunt and blast his enemies away like so much Chuck Bronson. Not here, though. Instead, he stalks his prey, and torments his tormentors like Death itself, but with a jagged hook as his weapon of choice instead of a scythe. Backed with Paul Schrader’s signature darkly humorous dialogue, William Devane’s portrayal as Major Charles Rane is as cold, unforgiving and steely like his hook, and yet still vulnerably sympathetic. You feel for his initial need for normaly, and then righteous payback for the murder of his son. Devane’s performance is a solid home run, and it’s probably his greatest headlining act in his resume. Accompanying in Charley’s vendetta ride, both unwillingly and willingly, are poor little Miss Linda Forchet, and Johnny Vohden. We can all see the affection in Linda’s eyes for Charley, but would she really up for tagging along to his private war? Linda Haynes is absolutely terrific as Forchet, who initially is horrified at being forcefully involved in Charley’s private vengeance spree. Happily, she’s no cinematic damsel in distress, thanks to some very handy prowess with guns and her tough Texan spunkiness to boot. Haynes’ performance is powerfully nuanced and subtle as she successfully looks deep within William Devane’s inner self and finds what left of the Major’s heavily-scarred soul. From her engaging performance in this film, you’d think Hollywood would have came knocking and offered Linda Haynes more roles. Unfortunately it didn’t happen, and Linda Haynes only did a handful of pictures after Rolling Thunder before dropping out of the industry altogether. Haynes is still around, and it’s not too late for her to return to pictures should she consider it, because she was this film’s much needed moral-compass for our revenge odyssey, and she was nearly perfect. And what of Tommy Lee Jones as Johnny? The young actor was just getting his feet wet in the industry, with Rolling Thunder being only his second film credit. But even at his neophyte stage in his career, Jones was already exhibiting his quiet yet-menacing vibe that he would later be truly be famous for. Just like Devane’s Charley, Jones portrays his Vietnam Veteran character as a man who looks seemingly normal on the surface, yet deep down, there’s an raging beast waiting to be unleashed. It’s clear that both Charley and Johnny trust each other implicity, ever since their days serving together in the war and as POWs. Their relationship is beyond mere comrades-in-arms, but as brothers bound by horrible memories and the need to back each other up. It’s actually touching to witness how loyal Johnny is to Charley’s plight. The way Johnny does not hesitate to gear up for battle after hearing Charley’s attackers have been located has shades of Peckinpah written all over them. During the bloody climactic shootout in a Mexican whorehouse, the two veterans strike against Charley’s enemies like a two man Wild Bunch; the odds aren’t too stacked in the pair’s favor, but they will make damn sure the other guys will die deserving deaths first! My love for Rolling Thunder is as clear as day. It’s hard to describe why I have such enthusiasm for something that other filmgoers would probably accuse of being a run-of-the-mill exploitation flick, and I ordinarily don’t care for so-called explotation movies. Pictures that seemingly perversely glorify torture scenes and violence for violence’ sake are usually not my bag. But Rolling Thunder’s strong tangent-like emphases on its characters are what help sell this picture for me. You can’t go wrong with protagonists as sympathetic and complex, yet utterly badass as Major Charley Rane, Linda Forchet, and Johnny Vohden to elevate an otherwise typical revenge pic. The only factor prevening it from being a completely perfect film for me is the extremely brief focus on its villains’ motives. I would have KILLED to see a longer scene explaining Automatic Slim’s beef against fellow Vietnam vet Charley Rane, perhaps a deeper look at his own personal insecurities. Other than that, Rolling Thunder just may be the Gone With the Wind of revenge pictures. Oh, did I ever mention I lovingly named my Cinematic Movie Review Blog Rane’s Hook Retrospectives after Major Charley Rane’s deadly secret weapon? If you hadn’t made the connection yet, you weren’t paying attention! See the original movie trailer here! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZLGWRI169k
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About Yours Truly
Unearthing great forgotten and criminally underrated pop culture mediums is my specialty! Whether the topic be about cinema, television, music, or other fun bits of obscure minutiae, I love analyzing and unleashing these lost treasures to the unwitting public! Archives
October 2020
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