Reflections on characters and themes in Callan (TV series 1967 - 1972)

 

Reflections on “Callan” (TV series 1967-1972)

Created by James Mitchell

Starring Edward Woodward, Russell Hunter,

Anthony Valentine and Patrick Mower

“Callan” takes place in the Cold War era and this series portrays with quite overwhelming realism the grimy, dirty and often painful business of undercover operations intended to ensure national security.

According to the premise of this show, assuring the safety of the nation when normal legal and diplomatic channels have failed, can involve underhand and amoral activities such as fraud, theft, blackmail and murder. Authorities working in a group referred to as The Section, under the command of a man whose title is Hunter, have to be cold, calculating and somewhat amoral themselves as they make frequent use of unprincipled and unscrupulous means toward the pragmatic end of protecting the nation’s security, and of course it is implied that every developed nation will have such a service.

To help achieve their end, these authorities are willing to turn to less respectable or honourable members of society who may have developed skills and talents The Section might find useful. Of course, they also recruit “professional” agents such as Meres and Cross but they appear to be chosen on the basis of their devotion and ambition, and perhaps their traits of psychopathy. They will tend to follow orders unquestioningly and kill with little reflection or consideration.

David Callan, as we know him - this is not his original name - is quite different though at first glance he may appear to fit the authorities’ criteria. He has developed skills and cunning that allow him to survive in an unpleasant and dangerous world.

Having lost both parents in the London Blitz, Callan displayed the intelligence, determination and spirit required to survive and become self-reliant, but he has retained humanity, curiosity and a sense of fairness. Doubtless lacking direction and purpose, Callan joined the army, serving in Malaysia, and his energy, spirit and survival instincts were channelled to help him become a highly effective soldier both in terms of tactics and his ability to kill, if required. He has problems with authority and, though he saved an officer’s life, he also argued and fought with others of higher rank, perhaps reflecting independent thought, humanity and intelligence.

After leaving the army, undoubtedly unable to settle for a prosaic and mundane career in book-keeping, and perhaps missing the visceral excitement of military sorties and combat, Callan resorts to a life of crime, though he is rather unsuccessful and spends two years in prison.

It is on his release that The Section approaches him, clearly wishing to take advantage of his skills and character flaws for their own ends.

However, Callan brings not just military fighting and survival skills, but also his fundamental humanity, independence and questioning intelligence. He asks questions and seeks to understand when he is expected to obey orders. He may even doubt the wisdom of his instructions and follow his own instincts and common sense, though generally he achieves the mission set to him, but on his own terms and having satisfied his own desire to understand, even if he doesn’t always like or approve of the result, reflecting a moral dilemma.

Rather like many who fulfil roles they don’t particularly like in society, he grudgingly recognises the need for what he does and his own talents and abilities within that context, but he can rue certain decisions and actions that have led to this juncture in his life and the fact he feels trapped as he cannot simply change direction since his departure would have security implications, possibly threatening his own survival.

What makes “Callan” such gripping viewing is the existential nature of the world in which these agents work, with little consideration of moral niceties, and the conflict, inner and outer, Callan brings to the piece as he wrestles with his sense of duty and purpose, and the nagging and questioning humanity he demonstrates as he carries out his duties.

Callan’s one good friend is Lonely, a skilled small-time thief, forger and informer, who regularly helps Callan in the course of his work without fully knowing Callan’s background or situation. In circumstances that rather mirror his own relationship with his superiors, Callan regularly applies bullying tactics in his relationship with Lonely, though he often shows regret at having to resort to such methods which he uses to ensure control of Lonely and to maintain his compliance, but also to protect his friend by keeping him out of the loop and open to pressure and threat.

Another reason for the show’s success is the realism of the stories and characters themselves. Made at the height of the Cold War, many of the storylines and settings were vaguely familiar to audiences and it was intriguing to see headlines brought to life in believable, if sometimes grimy and painful, plots. Characters were always well fleshed out and drawn and it was rarely a simple case of “goodies versus baddies” as all had reasons, valid or otherwise, for their actions and we as an audience were invited to share in the complexity, pain and consequences of the situation, and sympathised with Callan as he had to act as judge and occasionally executioner, often contradicting his orders, and as he paid a heavy personal price in terms of relationships and personal life for his efforts.

 

This was not the first time in cinema and TV history that those of dubious background or character were used for the purpose of national security. “The Dirty Dozen” was released in 1967 and there had been numerous Cold War spy films with characters whose motives and backgrounds were a little murky, but I think that “Callan” was the first to properly delve into the murky existential waters of the Cold War on TV and fully explore characters, motives and especially consequences for all those involved. In so doing, a unique and almost melancholic atmosphere and mood were created, summed up beautifully by the opening titles and the haunting theme tune, and I think the creation of that atmosphere and indeed the premise itself played a huge part in the success of the series.

Of course, this premise has been used many times since, in a number of variations of the theme, notably in Luc Besson’s “Nikita” which itself spawned a TV series and a Hollywood remake.

All who wrote, directed, produced and acted in the four series, film and TV film deserve much praise, but special credit must go to Edward Woodward and Russell Hunter who created indelible characters still worth seeking out and watching more than fifty years after they first played them.

 

My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

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Reflections on themes and characters in The Hill (1965)

 

Reflections on “The Hill”

Directed by Sidney Lumet

Script by Ray Rigby

Starring Sean Connery, Harry Andrews,

Ian Hendry, Ian Bannen et al.

 

Within a military context, but equally applicable to a variety of social contexts, discipline and rules promote order and are tools toward the end of achieving desired outcomes.

However, while seeking compliance with rules, perspective and proportion in terms of seeing the bigger picture and recalling their primary purpose may be lost, and insistence on adherence to regulations may become an end in itself, with the result that some rules may take on a greater weight and significance than they merit or, indeed, a vital consideration or purpose in their enforcement may be overlooked.

A chain of command and a system of rank may allow or even encourage the dodging of personal responsibility as blame can nearly always be attributed to another of higher or lower rank. This may also incite a certain lack of consideration for the consequences of one’s actions or decisions.

Pride in a position of authority may aggravate a situation as defiance or challenge may be taken personally and emotions and tempers can flare with potentially explosive consequences. Indeed, some may be so consumed by their position that they come to virtually personify the rules they advocate and they may become protective or even defensive of their position.

Of course, position and authority are open to abuse through lack of professionalism, lack of commitment, poor judgment or lack of compassion and humanity, especially when imposing a regime on those who do not necessarily share enthusiasm for it.

One method of ensuring compliance is to punish the many for the actions of the one, thus inviting pressure from the many on the one to change his or her attitude. This tactic demonstrates a disregard for the thoughts and grievances, justified or not, of individuals, and emphasises the promotion of blind obedience and compliance.

Expectations of loyalty and devotion accompanying compliance to authority and rank can lead to a sense of kinship but also ambition and jealousy among those who wish to build a career within such a structure, or outrage at those who reject this fraternity and its implied values.

All of us contribute to social systems and situations, if only through tacit approval. However, if we are uncomfortable with a state of affairs or perceive what we regard as an injustice, it is our duty to speak up and not allow the situation to continue or develop.

These themes, and several more, are explored in this underrated but excellent, if intense and painful, WW2 drama.

The storyline of “The Hill” is relatively simple. Five new prisoners arrive at a British military stockade in North Africa, all found guilty of relatively minor acts of indiscipline or insubordination and all sent to this facility to be broken and rebuilt as soldiers worthy of their uniform, under the keen eye of military martinet, Regimental Sergeant Major Wilson and his staff.

Staff Sergeant Williams, also newly arrived, is very keen to make his mark and impress R.S.M. Wilson, and he willingly takes on the task of instilling discipline and inflicting punishment on his charges in order to bring about the desired change in their attitude. However, he takes things too far and one of the new prisoners dies as a result of his excessive regime of exercise and discipline.

This death brings into sharp focus differences in attitude toward regulation, humanity and responsibility on both sides of the prison population, and a clash becomes inevitable.

Each character is beautifully defined and drawn and each represents a variation in attitude toward the military mindset and how best to survive such a regime.

R.S.M. Wilson is a proud and tough non-commissioned officer who believes utterly in the sanctity of rank and regulation. He is devoted to his profession and has total confidence in the worthiness of his mission to transform weak or poor soldiers into real military men worthy of the uniform they wear. He is proud of his position and his authority which he guards with zeal, turning on anyone who offers challenge or who shows perceived weakness in the carrying out of instructions and following regulations. He may feel he belongs to an elite group of worthies and he expects loyalty from and among his men. He does not doubt himself or the system he represents and enforces by the book.

This is undoubtedly why he takes against Joe Roberts, a former Sergeant Major dispatched to prison for “rehabilitation” after he struck his commanding officer who had insisted Roberts should lead his men on a suicide mission. Roberts refused to blindly follow an order because he foresaw the consequences in terms of the bigger humanitarian picture, and he will go on to point out the consequences on others of orders while in prison. His faith in a system to which he adhered previously was weakened by the prospect of a thoughtless waste of life and mindless obedience to a chain of command. He appears to accept the need for discipline in order to achieve things, but this must be tempered by reason and humanity, an attitude that will surely bring him into conflict with Wilson and his staff.

Roberts does not lack courage either physically or in terms of conviction, and is willing to fight for a cause. He knew what the consequences would be when he struck his C.O. and he is willing to put in a complaint about Williams, despite being fearful and knowing the position in which this will leave him.

This is in direct contrast to Williams who postures behind position and authority and displays cowardice and a bullying viciousness when he is forced to make a stand. Like many prisoners, Williams does not truly belong to the group in which he is serving. Wilson and Staff Sergeant Harris may differ in temperament but they share essential military values while Williams has merely found an outlet for his sadistic character. In a way, Williams is the principal catalyst of the drama and he poses a greater threat than the likes of Joe Roberts to the sanctity of discipline and authority as he has no real regard for military values and manipulates rules, regulations and people to indulge his passions while covering himself and assigning responsibility to others.

He sought his current posting in North Africa to avoid the Blitz in London and he appears to take pleasure in tormenting and bullying men who would be persecuted if they retaliated. He clearly has a healthy opinion of his own abilities as he sets out to climb the hill, a sizeable mound of rock and sand that prisoners are compelled to climb repeatedly in the searing North African heat, doubtless hoping to brag to prisoners of his prowess. However, he disappoints himself and loses self-esteem when he fares badly, despite making his effort in the relatively cool night-time. This loss of self-respect is only reinforced when he loses to Wilson in a drinking contest.

Thus, his insistence on inflicting the hill as a punishment, especially to poor, exhausted Stevens who is visibly at the end of his tether, only further diminishes our regard for him as we know that he is aware of how painful and difficult this exercise is, and he appears to wish to humiliate and demean his prisoners principally to boost his own sense of position and self-worth.

Bartlett is a poorly educated self-centred opportunist. To a degree, he provides comic relief but he has little gumption and he is unwilling to make a stand and do what is right by others when the situation demands.

Staff Sergeant Harris shows humanity, compassion and cunning as he tries to manipulate Wilson into showing consideration and leniency toward Stevens. He understands Wilson’s military mindset and fans his ego to bring him round, but Wilson is too self-important and proud to take advice on how to treat prisoners. Harris recognises Williams for what he is but is persuaded not to take action by Wilson’s rhetoric based on loyalty and accountability. However, after Stevens’ death, and bolstered by the efforts and suffering of Roberts and the Medical Officer, he overcomes his fear and hesitation and he insists on an investigation into Williams’ methods and actions, allowing humanity and responsibility to take precedence over military organisation and command.

Jacko King suffers racist abuse, largely with good humour, and displays much common sense. Toward the end of the film, he makes a highly memorable stand against not just the racism to which he has been subjected, but also against the inhumanity and abuse they have all suffered in the name of military mentality, rules and regulations. He removes his clothes and quits the army on the spot, refusing to recognise military authority over him. He sees the Camp Commandant and, treating him as an equal, effectively and brilliantly points out that regulations and authority in the army, and in society in general, only apply with mutual consent. The authority of one person over another depends on recognition and acceptance of that authority. As if to emphasise this point, King picks up a number of the C.O.’s cigars and nonchalantly saunters across the parade ground, to the delight of his fellow prisoners.

In a democracy, those to whom laws apply wish to see justice, fairness and transparency both in the structure of the law and its application, otherwise it may be considered unfit for purpose and inappropriate.

The Medical Officer is probably a good man but he lacks commitment to his job and has become somewhat casual and apathetic. His lack of attention and care may have contributed to the situation but he is certainly not alone in creating an establishment and conditions in which a man has died due to the treatment he received. He is pushed into action when he is vaguely threatened by Williams and Wilson, who are ready to pin responsibility on him to save their own necks. Once again, humanity and responsibility are revived and placed above military organisation, though in this case due largely to the threat of personal consequences.

McGrath, rather like the M.O., is fundamentally a good man but he is principally concerned with his own position and survival. When faced with overwhelming evidence and injustice, McGrath opts to accuse Williams of misconduct and will go even further in his condemnation of Williams….

The Commanding Officer and Stevens share certain traits. Neither seems very strong, determined or able, and each seems devoted to his wife. Stevens is a perfectly nice, home-loving man not made for the rigours of military discipline, while the C.O. appears somewhat ineffectual and leaves all the work and day to day administration of the camp to his staff, principally R.S.M. Wilson who is very happy to take on the duties, responsibility and position of running the camp.

In the end, Williams is to be investigated and Roberts is vindicated and relieved, but when the badly injured Roberts is threatened with a further assault by Williams, this proves too much for King and McGrath who set about Williams.

Roberts begs them to stop, insisting they have won and are now ruining everything. Reason and humanity had won over regulation and regimentation, but that advantage will be lost as King and McGrath resort to the kind of conduct they all fought to condemn. It must be said, however, that Williams’ squeals of panic and fear are most satisfying…

 

This is a superb, intimate and intense drama well served by the constant development of the story and the clearly defined characters. Sidney Lumet’s direction makes you feel like you have shared this experience in both time and space and he manages to lend dynamism and engagement to virtually every scene despite the confined and claustrophobic setting.

Sean Connery is the star whose presence undoubtedly allowed the production to go ahead but this is an ensemble cast. The acting by each participant is outstanding and Sean Connery was, I believe, rightly proud of this difficult but highly worthwhile film.

My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

 

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Reflections on characters and themes in Cool Hand Luke (1967)

 

Reflections on “Cool Hand Luke” (1967)

Directed by Stuart Rosenberg

Written by Donn Pearce and Frank R Pierson

Starring Paul Newman and George Kennedy

 

The scene is set in the opening few minutes for the conflict, drama and influence that will form the core of interest as they are developed in the course of the film.

We first meet Luke as he calmly, if drunkenly, sets about removing parking metres from a series of evenly spaced and orderly posts and it is clear that this is a nonviolent but determined, if relaxed, expression of his dislike of regulation and the imposition of petty order by society on its citizens. When the police arrive, Luke gives a broad and friendly grin suggesting no malice and also indicating a natural, free spirit and even a degree of innocence or purity.

Next, we see a chain gang labouring in intense heat and under close supervision. In stark contrast to Luke’s free spirit, the convicts are totally submissive as they seek permission from their guards to take even the smallest action, such as removing an item of clothing, ending every request with “boss”. They appear to have learned and accepted, perhaps under pressure, their place in the prison pecking order, though by extension they may represent those citizens who have succumbed to regulation and authority in society.

When we meet the guards, they are generally faceless and expressionless, offering little or no interaction with their charges beyond giving or denying permission. They may represent anonymous authority whose power and dominance are emphasised by the way they are filmed, with shots from the back of the head or looking up from a position of inferiority.

When Luke and a few other new arrivals turn up, the more experienced inmates set about using rules and manipulating men and situations for their own amusement and effectively establishing a pecking order among the inmates, perhaps in a desire to build their own egos.

Initially, Luke does his time rather quietly but eventually, after a distant but sensually provocative encounter with a local temptress, he suggests to well-established inmate Dragline that he is doing himself and the others no favours by reliving the moment and sharing his thoughts and torment, and Dragline challenges him to a boxing match.

Luke is outmatched by his sizeable opponent but he refuses to concede defeat, perhaps demonstrating Luke’s attitude to life and its challenges in general. Each time he is knocked to the ground, he rises to face his adversary again, despite advice from the other convicts to stay down, perhaps reflecting a general attitude to life and authority among them. Luke virtually turns the other cheek and allows Dragline to knock him down again and this has the effect of removing the “sport” from the occasion, with no victory or defeat and reducing it to what it was always intended to be, a beating. The onlookers walk away in disappointment and dismay but this event has revealed Luke’s spirit and strength, and incites respect and admiration for Luke, and acceptance.

Two or three more events instil and extend Luke’s influence on his fellow inmates.

He wins a game of cards with a very poor hand but bluffs his way to success, almost in an act of faith and another refusal to concede, and he gains his nickname in the process, a sure sign of belonging and acceptance.

He lends purpose and excitement to the convicts’ lives by accepting a challenge to eat 50 boiled eggs. The preparation, support and associated betting surrounding this event do much to unite and uplift the spirits of the convicts who are no longer rule-bound and keen to build themselves up at the expense of others.

This injection of spirit and unity culminates in a display of determination and energy, bordering on defiance, when the men are instructed to resurface a lengthy stretch of road, a back-breaking and time-consuming task. They complete the work in record time as a result of Luke’s inspiration and high-spirited challenge to take on and exceed the expectations of the warden and guards. In so doing, the convicts complete the job on their own terms and are elated by the sense of success, control and freedom they experience. Of course, the guards are left anxious as, effectively, they lose control of the situation though their prisoners have done only what was asked of them, but they set the pace and did not behave as if this was a punishment. It appears that freedom can be achieved through an attitude of mind.

By now, Luke has achieved virtual hero status and he becomes an essential element in the convict community. He is consulted regularly on various aspects of prison life and he even adopts a certain familiarity with the guards who respond in kind. Things seem to be going relatively smoothly as Luke’s influence has raised the spirits of all concerned, fostering a brighter and more positive outlook.

Luke’s mother visits him and we are given some insight into his upbringing. It appears his father was never around though he bears his father no ill will, and Luke clearly loves his mother who has always admired Luke’s spirit and winning ways, to the extent that she declares she has always favoured him above his brother. She informs Luke she is dying and will leave her worldly goods to his brother by way of compensation for her favouritism and preference. Luke is unperturbed by this apparent slight as he clearly values his mother’s love and admiration above mere possessions.

The turning point in the film and the direction it and Luke take comes with the death of Luke’s mother, or rather the actions of the warden and guards in response to news of her death. Luke is incarcerated in “the box”, a sort of isolated and cramped punishment cell, to ensure he makes no attempt to escape and attend her funeral. This lack of compassion and understanding is in sharp contrast with the easy-going acceptance of position and authority, and the humanity Luke has fostered since his arrival and he tells the guard that stating he is doing his job does not make it right.

Luke may always have been ready to challenge the status quo and identify inconsistencies or injustices, but he has shown willing, while in prison, to compromise and accept his punishment, but this blatant injustice and inhumanity pushes him over the edge and he is no longer willing to play the game.

Luke sets out to escape and does so with the connivance and collaboration of his fellow inmates. They almost seem to live their lives vicariously through Luke and his exploits, and his daring, panache and style assure his hero status in their eyes.

Although recaptured, he escapes again, duping the guards and further building his standing. He even manages to send a photo of himself with two attractive young ladies to Dragline and this image cements Luke’s iconic status for the others who, like many, seem to need someone or something greater than themselves to believe in, if only to give them hope as they face difficult or insurmountable circumstances.

Eventually captured once again, Luke is punished by having to repeatedly dig a grave-shaped ditch and refill it until he is utterly exhausted and is willing to capitulate and concede to the warden’s demands. Clearly, the warden and guards seek to destroy his image and status by publicly destroying the man while Luke’s friends sing spiritual songs in an effort to maintain his morale. He is knocked into what is effectively a grave and this may be intended to represent the death of his defiance. He arises a broken and weakened man willing to accept whatever conditions are demanded if it means he can stop digging.

As he faces his fellow convicts, despondent and physically and emotionally exhausted, Luke rejects his hero status and the pressure that entails by stating that he has failed and the image he sent during his escape was faked. Dreadfully disheartened and disappointed, they lose heart as they lose faith in their hero. One convict symbolically tears up the image and it is stashed under a mattress.

In one final daring, intelligent and stylish bid to escape, Luke steals a truck while on a work detail and Dragline, carried away by excitement and inspiration, jumps on as well. However, Luke seems to be aware he will not make it, separates from Dragline and heads to a town church where he proceeds to pray to and address God.

This is the culmination of a whole series of Christian images, including the way he lies when he is placed on a table, suggesting Luke may be viewed as something of a Christ figure.

He is a pure-hearted loner who has challenged, without violence, the political and moral status quo, has shown humanity, turned the other cheek and lifted the spirits of all those around him. His family background is familiar and he was rejected by those he helped, and now Dragline effectively acts as Judas as he draws the authorities to Luke, albeit believing he is actually doing Luke a favour.

In the church, Luke talks to God and says he can’t understand the path He has chosen for him, and asks for a sign whereupon Dragline appears. In the end, Luke is fatally wounded and Dragline turns on the authorities, leading to further punishment, yet Dragline goes on to talk vividly about his friend’s exploits and character, almost like a disciple. In the final scenes, the work party sets about its work but all are reasonably positive and inspired. Luke may have died but his sacrifice (for he knew things would not turn out well for him) has led to a change of attitude. Spiritual freedom has been achieved even if the same physical restraints are still in place.

As we pull away from the work party, a crossroads forming a cross comes into view, and the torn image of Luke with his lady friends also appears, showing the same cross where the photo has been repaired…..

The script and direction of this excellent film maintain pace and engagement throughout, though the film really takes off in the second half with Luke’s unjust imprisonment in the box. All the characters are nicely fleshed out and played but Paul Newman and George Kennedy certainly deserve particular credit and praise.

My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie         stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk

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Reflections on characters and themes in The Hustler (1961)

 

Reflections on “The Hustler” (1961)

Directed by Robert Rossen

Screenplay by Sidney Carroll and Robert Rossen

Based on the novel by Walter S. Tevis

Starring Paul Newman, Piper Laurie, George C. Scott and Jackie Gleason

Driven by a desire to prove himself the best, as well as the desire to win a considerable sum in bets, Fast Eddie Felson seeks to take on Minnesota Fats in a marathon pool session, but discovers there is a heavy price to pay in terms of relationships and humanity if he is to make it to the top of his chosen profession as a pool hall hustler.

Eddie learns the hard way there is more to winning than simply having talent. When he loses to Fats in their first pairing, it is pointed out to Eddie that while he has the ability, he lacks the “character” required to make him a winner. That is to say, he lacks the stamina, perseverance and discipline to pace himself in order to play the long game. For this is not akin to a tournament with set limits and clear criteria for success – this involves playing until your opponent is vanquished and admits defeat. Indeed, it might even be argued that the game is merely the means of taking on the character and very essence of your opponent in order to best him or her. It develops into a titanic contest of egos and spirit with talent and skills merely serving as the tools to decide the combat.

Eddie learns another important lesson, that there will always be money men, here in the shape of Bert Gordon, willing to help encourage and direct the careers of those who display sporting talent and ability (or indeed ability in any field of endeavour), for a substantial share of the proceeds. These are businessmen who act with purely mercenary and professional motives. They will take on managerial responsibility for organisation and administration in return for the application of sporting talent. The sportsman or player is an investment and he or she will be expected to toe the line in exchange for their highly lucrative and career-enhancing managerial services.

These money men will also be willing to manipulate situations and the emotions of their investments in order to ensure a greater return. Bert is cold, calculating and confident, but Eddie initially rejects his offer to represent him due to a sense of loyalty to his friend and fellow hustler cum manager, Charlie. However, Eddie and Charlie’s relationship comes to an abrupt end when Eddie’s ego and ambitions get the better of him and he fails to appreciate Charlie’s efforts to protect him from himself.

At least in part, Eddie loses his first match with Fats because of his humanity. He displays human weakness and arrogance but also naivety, self-doubt, lack of tenacity and understanding, and pain. As a result of his defeat and his underlying humanity, he turns to a girl he encounters, Sarah Packard. Sarah is a damaged soul who has suffered physical and emotional hardship, and on some intuitive level Eddie may feel she can offer him some much-needed comfort, sympathy and understanding. She is vulnerable but possesses character, and these qualities seem to appeal to the tender side of Eddie’s nature.

Sarah has been a victim and has been let down in life. She struggles to accept reality, or the potential ugliness and pain of reality, and tends to build a falsely positive view of the men in her life. Just as Eddie may have sensed an inherent capacity for sympathy in her, she may detect Eddie’s deep-seated humanity and goodness and this gives her hope for their future together, though at one point she actually chides herself for refusing to recognise Eddie’s failings.

Although it is not all plain sailing, Eddie and Sarah are good for one another and each grows in confidence and stability to the extent that Eddie once again tries some pool hall hustling without the overview of a Charlie or a Bert, and everything goes horribly wrong. Without experienced and astute oversight and guidance, Eddie defeats and humiliates his opponent who, outraged at Eddie’s attempted scam, assaults Eddie with some friends, and they break Eddie’s thumbs.

Sarah takes care of Eddie and is almost protective of him as she tries to foster the humanity she perceives in him and divert him from hustling in pool halls. They even discuss what it means to be a winner and a loser. A loser may be associated with compassion, a weakness according to Bert’s interpretation, while a winner is rather simplistically summed up by Eddie as one who owns things. Interestingly, it is Bert who is held up as a winner in Eddie’s eyes, and not Minnesota Fats. He recognises the power of money and organisation over success in terms of skill and talent, but he resists the notion of joining Bert as he holds on to care and consideration for others under Sarah’s influence.

When Eddie recovers and has his casts removed, Sarah is visibly disappointed and concerned as she realises he will be able to and will wish to exercise his pool and hustling skills once more, drawing him away from her and, perhaps more importantly, away from compassion and understanding toward the hard and harsh world of winning, no matter the cost.

Eddie sees no future without pool and a mentor so he turns to Bert to guide and direct him, though he remains uncommitted to Bert’s cold and ruthless outlook as he insists on bringing Sarah on a road trip to the Kentucky Derby organised by Bert.

Bert becomes increasingly frustrated by Sarah’s influence which is hindering the development of a killer instinct in Eddie, so he manipulates the situation until Eddie is forced to choose between Sarah and taking a significant step toward fulfilling his ambitions by playing a socialite named Findley. Blindingly overwhelmed by his now reinvigorated taste for success, Eddie angrily rejects Sarah when she suggests they leave, and goes on to defeat Findley, winning $12,000 to be split rather unevenly with Bert.

Somewhat dispirited and despondent at losing Eddie and perhaps more generally her battle with nihilism and corruption, Sarah returns to her hotel room where Bert makes a pass at her. His advance is vigorously spurned but, on reflection and in a state of depression, Sarah abandons herself to the cold and harsh reality she has always resisted and accepts Bert’s hospitality, perhaps because she feels she has lost not just Eddie but hope and self-belief as well.

However, she is unable to live with this choice and what she may have judged as her degradation and betrayal of herself, and she commits suicide.

Eddie turns on Bert and shortly afterward he challenges Minnesota Fats to a rematch, using his share of the money he won when he played Findley as his stake. Eddie ruthlessly defeats Fats, applying the cold and professional attitude Bert hoped to instil in him. However, it is a hollow victory as it has come at a great price.

Bert demands his share of Eddie’s winnings and threatens him with violence if he doesn’t pay up, thus revealing his true nature and philosophy in the process. Fats remains conspicuously silent during this face-off. He and Eddie compliment one another as players but he has long since accepted his place in the running of things and he will do nothing to defy or antagonise his cold-hearted financial backer and boss.

Eddie mentions Sarah and reminds Bert of the part each of them played in her fate. This appears to shame Bert, at least enough to allow Eddie to keep all his winnings on this occasion, but he warns Eddie he should not expect to be allowed to continue to play in any big-time pool halls.

Eddie is finished professionally, but perhaps he is willing to accept this punishment, and the emotional damage he has suffered, as a condition of retaining his humanity and his capacity to show compassion and understanding to others. Indeed, he even tells Bert that HE is a loser, suggesting something of a change in his priorities and his view of the world.

Although I found the script a little verbose and laboured in places, it deals well with conflict and the characters are all very well drawn. Atmosphere, tension, emotion and tragedy are all conveyed very clearly and I thought the performances were all admirable and pleasing, especially those of Paul Newman and George C Scott.

On a final note, I must say I was disappointed in the storyline of the sequel which failed to advance or even pursue the course suggested by the story development and the ending of “The Hustler”. Indeed, in the sequel Eddie’s character evolution seems to go in reverse as he is keen to take on an almost Bert-like role in the manipulation of a young and talented newcomer. Perhaps, with time, he succumbed to and adapted to the hard and harsh reality of life.

My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

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Reflections on characters and themes in Road to Perdition (2002)

 

Reflections on “Road to Perdition”

Directed by Sam Mendes

Written by David Self

(based on the graphic novel by Max Allan Collins and Richard Piers Rayner)

Starring

Tom Hanks, Paul Newman, Daniel Craig, Tyler Hoechlin and Jude Law

A video presentation of this material can be viewed here.

When gangland enforcer Mike Sullivan’s son, Michael, witnesses a murder committed by Connor Rooney, the son of gangland boss John Rooney, who is also Mike’s boss and mentor, this sets in motion a chain of events that lead to the deaths of Sullivan’s innocent wife Annie and his second son, Peter. Sullivan will consequently abandon the code he has always followed and will challenge the mores, social structure and hierarchy he has known all his life as he takes whatever measures are necessary to protect himself and his son from former colleagues and friends while seeking vengeance on the self-indulgent Connor who, desperate to ensure his own safety and survival, is responsible for the deaths of Mike’s wife and child.

The film offers insight into the milieu and politics of Depression-era gangsters while examining father-son relationships and the conflicts and complications they can generate. Underpinning everything is the contrast between John and Connor’s relationship and Mike’s efforts to instil values and respect in his son amid a general contempt for law, order and morality.

There is no recourse or reference to law enforcement or religion. Instead, we have a pragmatic or Machiavellian gangster order in which morality, honour and rectitude are reduced to keeping your word, being discreet and protecting fellow gang members if that serves the greater good.

Connor’s conduct goes beyond self-centred indulgence and borders on narcissism. He exercises emotional manipulation of his all-powerful father which may be due to his apparent inability to impress his father or gain his respect. In turn, Connor’s perceived character weaknesses may be the result of John’s apparent inability to impose discipline on his son and his mollycoddling of him. Of course, it may also be due, in good part, to the environment in which he has been brought up, with no respect for values or consideration for others beyond their use in the advancement of family “business”. At one point, Connor is described as “a big baby” by another powerful gang boss, but he is so consumed by his own character and importance that he fails to recognise any truth in the description and instead offers vague threats based on his future position as the head of the family business, further confirming his delusions and lack of self-awareness as he fails to see that he is tolerated only because of his father and his influence.

John Rooney knows himself and recognises what he is. He is willing to steal, cheat and murder but he is aware of the pain and consequences he can inflict on others in pursuance of his business affairs. He appears to prefer a balanced and restrained approach to business, using violence as a tool and resorting to it only when necessary, and refusing to exploit his clientele at their work as well as in their leisure time.

His great weakness is his devotion to his son, Connor. Intelligent and insightful, John also knows who and what Connor is but he cannot discipline him and is obliged to cover for Connor’s ill-considered actions and indiscretions. Perhaps he is clinging to the only meaningful blood tie left to him as all other relationships can be bought and sold, used and discarded. He is clearly close to Mike Sullivan whom he has brought up as a member of the family but whose life has been dedicated, or even sacrificed, to pursual of Rooney’s nefarious interests as Sullivan was trained to be an enforcer and an assassin. There is a closeness, affection and understanding between them but Rooney requires complete devotion and compliance from Sullivan. Mike is not afforded the same freedom and indulgence as Connor yet Connor is envious of the respect and warmth shared by Rooney and Sullivan. Ultimately, however, Mike is treated like a loyal vassal and he is expected to accept the murders of his wife and son by Connor as part of that loyalty, but their loss proves too much for Mike, whose allegiance has reached its limit.

Mike’s life appears to be governed by loyalty, gratitude and indebtedness, all of which lend a tragic and contradictory aspect to this unsmiling, taciturn, dangerous and profoundly conflicted man.

As a youngster, Mike was taken in by John Rooney who provided him with a home, comfort and security, all of which were appreciated by Mike to such an extent that they fostered within him a profound sense of debt, a reaction that suggests he is a man of honour in spite of his actions and profession. Rooney has continued to provide for Mike, his wife and his family, and gratitude, debt and loyalty are the price Mike feels he must pay for this stability, especially in these difficult Depression-era times.

Often silent and distracted, it seems that his life as an enforcer weighs heavily on Mike. He is aware of the effect he delivers, even dread, when he gives his name. At home, when his son Peter inquires about the nature of his work, there is a sudden change in atmosphere and Mike’s wife snaps that he works to put food on the table. This telling response suggests not just a desire to protect the boys from the truth but also shame or embarrassment and that this is something he does out of necessity rather than through ambition or desire.

These are parents who seek to instil discipline and family values in their children. Mike and his wife could easily have lied about the nature of his work, but they choose not to do so. The boys are expected to show respect, not to question and to do household chores. They are encouraged to do their homework and they have a warm and loving relationship with their mother.

At home, it may be the true man we are seeing, a man of honour and values but one who loyally serves his criminal master by day, undertaking threat, violence and murder in his name, surely leading to internal conflict and depression which explain his silence and distraction. Mike may be trapped in his existential quandary and may be somewhat distant with his sons, but he is determined that his sons should have an outlook and options based on respect for others and a principled upbringing, all in direct contrast to the upbringing experienced by Connor.

Michael represents hope for the future in Mike’s eyes. In the aftermath of the murders of their kin, father and son are united by common grief, experience and a need for one another. They get to know one another better and do what they must to survive, but their efforts are tempered by reason and control. They are pursued by amoral individuals and may use amoral methods to deal with them yet they show constraint and balance. Michael is forced to grow up quickly and he shows calm determination in helping his father. In part reflecting his maturity, his idealistic and romanticised view of his father and his work (symbolised in his interpretation of the graphic novel he is reading) is steadily replaced with respectful realism.

In contrast to Mike’s human and flawed assassin, we have Maguire, a quirky hitman hired to take out Mike and his son. Maguire is an assassin who enjoys his work. He is totally amoral – he has no scruples and indulges his passion for death by photographing the recently dead or dying. Although ostensibly he and Mike have much in common, Maguire does not suffer from self-doubt or inner conflict and he is not acting to fulfil a perceived debt of honour. He kills because it gives him pleasure and fulfilment, and his very presence and motivation allow us to compare and contrast with Mike and enable us to gain a clearer understanding of Mike’s existential position and attitude.

At the end of the film young Michael could have killed Maguire. He holds the upper hand, in the shape of a gun, but he is hesitant and unwilling to shoot, though he might have pulled the trigger if necessary. Fortunately, Mike removes that necessity and takes upon himself the guilt of killing Maguire, thus sparing his son from having to take a life and allowing him to walk away with an unblemished conscience. Mike dies happy in the knowledge Michael did not mindlessly pull the trigger – in a world where morality may not exist in itself and in an environment where it is certainly not respected, the values and self-discipline he has tried to instil in his son have won out over self-centred amorality.

This is a brooding, atmospheric character piece set for the most part in a dark, shadowy world which contrasts with the airy lightness and hope of the scenes at the end of the film. On the face of it, this is a well-constructed revenge thriller offering relatively familiar fare in terms of politics but its great strength lies in the contrasting father-son relationships and how they inform the moral choice at the core of the film.

 

My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

 

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

 

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