Independence Day (1983, Robert Mandel)

Robert Mandel's Independence Day is a film that probably would have remained off of my personal grid for awhile longer had I not been so won over by its lead actor in another film I just watched.  It's pretty hard to keep one's eyes off of Kathleen Quinlan in Lifeguard...and, this led me to seek out Independence Day, which stars Quinlan, David Keith, Dianne Wiest, Cliff De Young, Frances Sternhagen, and Josef Sommer.  The narrative focuses on the lives of several of Mercury, Texas' inhabitants through a short but turbulent time period, mixing some conventional drama with endearingly oddball characters and tonal shifts, resulting in a small gem, which should be better known than it is. That its title will mean that it's forever overshadowed by the completely unrelated 1996 blockbuster of the same name is unfortunate.

I was familiar with the film, but had not actively sought it out even though it's the type of piece that fits firmly in my wheelhouse: a little-remembered, early '80s, low-budget American drama with a cast of accomplished character players.

It's never been on DVD, however, and the Warner Archive, unfortunately, reports that there are currently no plans to add it to the collection, something which would help rescue the film from its current obscurity.

@nedmerrilla1 No plans.
— Warner Archive (@WarnerArchive) March 7, 2014

As soon as I re-familiarized myself with the basics of Independence Day, I thought it might be included in a couple of my longtime "go-to" cinema books--Produced and Abandoned and Danny Peary's Guide for the Film Fanatic.  I was surprised to find that there was no entry in the former, but my instincts were correct about Peary, who lists the film in the back of his book and calls it an "S" (sleeper) and "PR" (personal recommendation).

I first picked those books up when I was in high school and, and aside from my own personal tastes, I must credit them for pointing out so many of the weird, off-the-beaten-path, unfairly neglected works--often those aforementioned dramas--that I've held close to my heart for the past couple of decades.  All of this is to say that Independence Day is similar to a number of my favorite films, but it's passed me by for one reason or another all these years.  I "checked off" most of those Peary Fanatic and Cult Movies titles long ago, so it was satisfying to circle back and experience one of them for the first time now.

Independence Day is set in the small town of Mercury, Texas.  It seems like it comes from a novel or a series of novels that take place in the same town and this makes some sense since screenwriter Alice Hoffman is primarily a novelist; this, though, is a completely original screenplay rather than an adaptation.  Mercury diner waitress Mary Ann (Quinlan) holds onto her dream of attending art school in Los Angeles to study photography, while race car-obsessed Jack (Keith) has just returned to town after failing to stick in an unspecified school or program (it's almost as if his character from An Officer and a Gentleman did not kill himself after quitting officer's training and has instead come home).  They meet cute and begin a courtship whose longterm status will be tested by Mary Ann's aspirations to get out of town and Jack's to stay there and fix and race cars.  The chemistry between the actors and the quirks that Hoffman has written into their characters insures that this relationship rises above standard issue drama.

For Mercury, Mary Ann is unconventional, sexually worldly, and, as a woman, unusually outspoken and comfortable in her own skin.  For anywhere, she is an enormously talented, promising photographer (this is verified by renowned photographer / professor Burt Remsen when he visits her family's home to offer her a scholarship).  And, so I'm sure I'm not the only viewer who finds Jack incredibly lucky when Mary Ann shows interest in him, which is not to say that Hoffman does not also imbue him with appealing and surprising qualities.  He has an innocence and a gallantry about him that is very refreshing. His loyalty to his sister (Wiest) and the tenderness he shows her is quite beautiful.

In fact, what's most interesting about Mary Ann and Jack's dynamic is the way in which Hoffman has reversed the usual gender roles in the relationship: Mary Ann goes after Jack, she is more sexually experienced and more enlightened than Jack, and she won't hesitate to drop Jack if he tries to persuade her to scrap her school plans and stay in Mercury.  She's always got either a stiff drink or one of those long, brown cigarettes in her hand, while Jack drinks only Cokes. Keith and Quinlan are both so good here and I'd have loved to see them get more leading opportunities in feature films.

On the other side of town, we have the film's other primary couple: Jack's sister Nancy (Wiest) and her abusive husband Les (De Young). Mandel and Hoffman deserve credit for depicting this abuse in all its forms and not shying away from some pretty tough material, as do the actors, for playing it honestly and without flinching at the most brutal scenes.  No one can accuse De Young of being unwilling to play unrepentant sons of bitches without any sort of vanity (see: Reckless, F/X, Harry and Tonto, etc.) and Wiest gets my maximum praise for her three-dimensional characterization, which goes beyond stereotypes into some unexpected places.  The less known about this going into the film, the better.  Wiest also has some of the best scenes of the film in her one on one time with both Keith (they actually look like they could be brother and sister) and Quinlan.

Equally good in less expansive roles are Sternhagen and Sommer as Mary Ann's supportive and loving parents.  The film threatens to get a little maudlin, as Sternhagen's character is dying of cancer, but Sternhagen's strong, heartfelt performance in her key scene with Quinlan nullifies that for me.  Same goes for Sommer in his father / daughter moment with Quinlan towards the end of the film.

The late Richard Farnsworth appears in a few scenes as Jack's boss at the garage, but does not have much to do.  Longtime character player and Texan Noble Willingham plays Jack's father and Brooke Alderson, who was well-utilized by James Bridges in Urban Cowboy and Mike's Murder, appears as a fellow waitress in the family diner where Mary Ann works.  D.p. Charles Rosher Jr. doesn't have a huge filmography, but among his credits is recent Obscure One-Sheet favorite The Baby Maker.

Although both Mandel and Hoffman are northerners, this is not a film that portrays the South or southerners in a pejorative or condescending way, at least to my northern eyes.  In addition, the characters and situations are convincingly working-class, something that stands out more and more as the years go on, and working-class characters and scenarios become essentially extinct in major studio films.  Hopefully, this Independence Day will become more accessible sometime soon--Warner Archive, please--and get that second chance that so many other worthy titles have received in the DVD and Blu-ray age.

Director Robert Mandel on set.  Mandel's subsequent film F/X is a much different beast, though it shares with Independence Day excellent, well-drawn performances across the board, including that of Cliff De Young.

Warner Archive Pre-Code Bounty Part I: Bette Davis in '33

For lovers of pre-Code films, particularly those originally produced by Warner Bros., First National, RKO, and MGM, the Warner Archive's been a blessing.  I've recently written about Parachute Jumper, Mandalay, and Downstairs, and to these I'll add a few notes about The Working Man and Ex-Lady.  One Way Passage, The Hatchet Man, Skyscraper Souls, and Employees' Entrance will follow shortly.

Similar to the way that Humphrey Bogart was indebted to Leslie Howard for boosting his career, so it was that Bette Davis had George Arliss to thank for giving her sagging career some much-needed help. An established star of stage and screen in the early '30s and an Academy Award-winner for Disraeli (1929), Arliss had the clout to get young Davis, who had recently been let go by Universal, a key role in his 1932 vehicle, The Man Who Played God.  Davis won raves for her performance and was signed to her first long-term contract at Warner Bros., which would be her home studio for the next two decades.  Stars Arliss and Davis and director John G. Adolphi returned in '33 for The Working Man. It's a prototypical Depression-era drama, with comic touches, which bears some similarities to My Man Godfrey, as shoe manufacturing company owner Arliss goes undercover and masquerades as a "working man" in his late rival's firm in order to keep the spoiled heirs (Davis and Theodore Newton) from squandering their fortune.

Arliss and Davis have a wonderful father-daughter-type chemistry and there's no shortage of amusing scenes in which the rich behave foolishly while "working folk" like Arliss set them straight. It's a light and entertaining piece with a dramatic arc that moved me in spite of its predicability; for modern viewers, however, an air of unintended sadness hangs over this production because Adolphi would die only a month after its release in a hunting accident while supporting cast member Gordon Westcott, a pre-Code mainstay, would be killed in a polo accident two years later.

Next out of the WB chute for Davis was Robert Florey's Ex-Lady. Released only a month after The Working Man, in which Davis played a naive, post-adolescent, Florey's film pushes the calendar ahead several years, casting Davis in the titular role--a seasoned pro--one which she fills convincingly.  It would be the first time she was top-billed at WB. Here, she's an archetypal pre-Code woman--often played by contemporaries like Norma Shearer or Barbara Stanwyck--smart, sassy, independent, and not ready to settle or settle down. She plays a highly successful graphic artist content to keep her passionate love affair with ad exec Gene Raymond nuptial-free, despite the loud protestations of her traditional German-American father (Alphonse Ethier).  When they do tie the knot, each finds that it's difficult to resist the urge to stray a bit.

In spite of her much-critiqued (by male studio execs) physical appearance, Davis has no problem being sexy and alluring in Ex-Lady, while also getting in some great, progressive speeches about wanting to be able to live life to its fullest and achieve individual successes without being married.  Gene Raymond is a bit of a cad here, but I still like him; he's particularly winning with Loretta Young in Fox's Zoo in Budapest, released only a couple weeks prior to Ex-Lady. The young John Heard, as seen in films like Chilly Scenes of Winter and Cat People, reminds me of Raymond, both physically and in temperament.

Invaluable WB company player Frank McHugh brings his dependable brand of humor, often of the drunken variety, to his role as Davis and Raymond's wealthy pal.  The beautiful Claire Dodd, so often the "other woman," is seen too briefly for my tastes as Mrs. McHugh, whom McHugh pretends he's cold to for fear that she'll leave him if he reveals how crazy he actually is about her.

Monroe Owsley, who was tragically felled by a heart attack at only 36, is delightfully and slimily frisky as an uber-persistent suitor who makes clear that he only wants to lay Davis so that he can finally remove her from his list of unconquerables...this one ain't pre-Code for nothin', folks.

Hands on.

Trailer Not on the DVD: Lifeguard (1976, Daniel Petrie)

Daniel Petrie's Lifeguard might also be called "Magic Rick" after the character that Sam Elliott plays in the film, which almost certainly helped inform Steven Soderbergh's Magic Mike.  Elliott fits the role of the titular lifeguard like a glove, or, rather, a bikini and he, accordingly, gives a top-notch performance. He looks good, he's got good screen presence, and he convincingly radiates that zen attitude that I imagine all successful beach lifers (bums) must have to survive. As something of an Elliott neophyte, I was pleasantly surprised at how taken I was with him as Rick Carlson, a former surfing champ who remains a lifeguard at the local beach into his 30s.  Rick is still in top shape, is good at his job, and has no problem attracting beautiful women to his bachelor pad or lifeguard station after hours. However, a combination of events and chance meetings, including a pivotal visit to his 15-year high school reunion where he reconnects with his former flame Anne Archer, leads Rick to seriously re-evaluate his life decisions and current standing.  

Now that I'm in my mid-30s and older than than the "lifeguard" by a few years, I view stories like this, from past generations, with greater interest and, obviously, with a different perspective than I would as a younger person.  Without spoiling things too much, I think it's safe to say that Lifeguard offers a satisfying affirmation for those of us who have not chosen "traditional" paths into adulthood.  Rick's father, who can be seen in the trailer admonishing his son for pretending he's still "a kid at the beach," would be at a complete loss if confronted with a good majority of today's twenty and thirtysomethings who are often further from "settling down" than their counterparts in their parents' generation, such as Rick.

Despite light touches such as composer Dale Menten's Beach Boys-like main theme (a re-working of Paul Williams' "Time and Tide") and its PG rating, Lifeguard has a melancholy vibe that runs throughout the film, which proves to be a moving, well-crafted character portrait that fits in with many of its better known '70s brethren.  The misleading one-sheet does nothing to dispel the impression that the film is an innocuous, bantamweight piece of fluff.

Like so many '70s PG films, Lifeguard, as constituted, would almost surely be an R in today's marketplace.  There is full nudity from Sharon Clark (a former Playmate of the Year) who plays Rick's stewardess fling, casual references to and examples of sexual harassment--from both horny teenage boys and dirty old men, and a sexual relationship between a minor and an adult factors heavily into the plot.  That said, nothing seems exploitative about any of these things and I would guess that in the mid-'70s none of this raised many eyebrows.

My first thought when I think of Elliott is as the "Marlboro Man" personified so it's nice to see him play a stud of a different variety. But, Elliott is more than an overaged Adonis here, bringing a good deal of weariness and self-deprecation to the table.  Kathleen Quinlan is truly beguiling and quite sympathetic as a lonely high school girl who falls for Rick.  Her scenes with Elliott are, I think, the best in the film. I also like Parker Stevenson as Rick's college-aged lifeguard partner, their dynamic similar to that of the veteran cop and his rookie partner.

To my eyes, the film's main weak point is the relationship between Rick and his former sweetheart Cathy (Anne Archer), who is as beautiful as one would expect "living legend" Rick's high school girlfriend to be.  But, she's shallow and cold in a way that makes one hope Rick won't end up with her, even if she represents a pathway to a more "adult" existence for Rick.  I can't tell if this is how the character is written or if that's just what Archer brings to the role...I must admit that my anti-Scientologist sensibilities make me think, half-seriously, that Archer's falseness and coldness are connected to her membership in that cult.

Canadian-born Petrie directed a lot of television, both series and telefilms, including the acclaimed Sybil, also from 1976.  Of the handful of feature film directing jobs on his resume, in addition to Lifeguard, I'm an admirer of Resurrection, the last five minutes of which I find devastating, Fort Apache the Bronx, which I've previously written about here, and Buster and Billie, which stars one of my favorite '70s leading men, Jan-Michael Vincent.

The d.p. was Ralph Woolsey, who came up in television in the '50s and '60s and graduated to feature films in the '70s, in time to shoot a number of oddball features--I mean that in the best way--such as 99 and 44/100% Dead!, Rafferty and the Gold Dust Twins, Deadhead Miles, The Mack, Mother, Jugs, and Speed, and The Great Santini.

Among screenwriter Ron Koslow's later credits are Michael Apted's Firstborn, a film which I've always had a soft spot for and John Landis' Into the Night.  When I saw the latter screened a few years back, with Landis in attendance, the director told the audience that he re-wrote Koslow's script almost entirely and that, in order to placate the perturbed writer, he was a given a producer credit.

The Warner Archive, though its distribution of Paramount product, has rescued Lifeguard from the pricey, out-of-print dustbin.  The copy I received was a pressed DVD that would appear to be a port of the original Paramount DVD issued in the early oughts, and includes a subtitle track, which is unusual for WA discs.  The attractive cover art has an image--that does not appear in the film--of Elliott and Quinlan leaning on each other with contemplative expressions on their faces, an image similar to the one used for the VHS artwork.

Who is Harry Kellerman and Why Is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me (1971, Ulu Grosbard)

Unfortunately, a mostly terrible film with an equally terrible title, I'd wanted to see this initial film collaboration between Ulu Grosbard and Dustin Hoffman for years.  I was finally able to scratch this itch with the surprising DVD release of the film by CBS (by way of Paramount Home Media). Hoffman's folk music hero (a la Dylan) Georgie Soloway is just about his least convincing screen performance.  Where Grosbard and Hoffman effectively combined their talents years later on Straight Time, transforming Hoffman into hardened criminal Max Dembo, they fail spectacularly with Harry Kellerman.  The movie mostly takes place in the frazzled mind of suicidal Georgie, as he encounters family, friends, employees, and his mostly useless Austrian shrink (Jack Warden) and employs some arty, non-linear editing techniques, which will be familiar to students of both New Waves, European and American.  It is, of course, not entirely clear which meetings are actually occurring and which occur only in Georgie's head.  

The lone bright spots are the early '70s footage of New York City, which includes early morning aerial footage of the skyline, with the World Trade Center under construction (in the film, we see 1 tower partially constructed, with no sign of the other), and Barbara Harris' Oscar-nominated role, which amounts to 2 scenes.

The goofy DVD cover, which appears to be trying to evoke Napolean Dynamite's marketing campaign, includes an image that does not appear in the film.  I initially thought it was a photoshop job, but then considered that it might have come from a publicity still.  Sure enough...

Now that CBS and Paramount have released Harry Kellerman, The April Fools, and The War Between Men and Women, please, please give us The Challenge and Darker Than Amber, both titles in the CBS library, which remain unavailable on DVD in any region.

In another sign of our increasing prudishness when it comes to all things sex, the film which features a couple scenes of brief nudity, has been re-rated for the new DVD from GP (pre-cursor to PG) to R.

A final note: my mother met and spoke with Rose Gregorio (Mrs. Ulu Grosbard) at the hair salon a few months ago.  Rose told her a great anecdote about The Swimmer (which the actress appears in) after Mom related to her that I was a big fan of that film.  Here, she appears in a few scenes as the former Mrs. Kellerman.  Rose was quite good in Frank Perry's Dummy, which I wrote about earlier.

Trailer on the MOD DVD: Busting (1974, Peter Hyams)

This looks to be an original American theatrical trailer that someone pulled from an old UK pre-cert VHS tape.  We even get a glimpse of the beautiful British Warner Bros. big box artwork for Busting; the trailer is on this MGM MOD DVD, but I'm quite sure that disc does not include the spinning, rotating VHS cover graphic that this version does.  It seems that UA titles were distributed on home video by WB in Europe in the early days of the medium.  If I haven't already mentioned it, this site is a goldmine for information about this particular corner of British home video history.  Freebie and the Bean gets a lot of love from my fellow '70s cult movie cultists, but I prefer Busting to it, as my favorite "cop buddy" picture of that year, 1974.  Both are as freewheeling, nasty, and politically incorrect as you'd expect from '74 and you can't go wrong with either if that's your bag.  My friend Mr. Peel has written quite a bit more eloquently on both films here and here.

Here's a trailer that actually does right by the film, one of the more underrated--and, in fact, one of the original--cop buddy (or, is that "buddy cop"?) films.  It's high time that director Peter Hyams was given his due for well-crafted and intelligent genre films like this one and Outland.  If Hyams' Running Scared is the most unsung cop buddy movie of the '80s, Busting gets that moniker for the '70s.  The extended chase sequence that centers around a large, urban outdoor food market is rightfully often cited as a highlight of the film and Hyams' directorial career.  And, the man is still at the action game (now collaborating with his son, John) and talking about it!

Something I noticed watching this trailer, after not seeing the film for awhile, is that Blake, fresh off of his starring role in Electra Glide in Blue, is seen standing in front of a nightspot called the Electra Club. That...and the original score by Billy Goldenberg is killer, and it's available on CD from the great Kritzerland label!

Trailer Not on the DVD: Star 80 (1983, Bob Fosse)

I posted a Star 80 TV spot a few years ago.  Now, from the Warner Archive VOD YouTube channel, we have what appears to be a theatrical trailer (sans billing block).  Hopefully, a widescreen Blu-ray (we can dream) or DVD of Fosse's final film is coming soon from Warner Archive.  There is an ancient, full-frame, feature-less DVD, which now seems to be OOP and quite pricey.

And, while we're on this topic, I must give a shout out to Ralph Burns for his highly effective, pop-inspired score.  The track on this trailer evokes "Tubular Bells" in a striking fashion; I can't recall if it appears in the film proper, but I assume it's a Burns composition.

More of Burns' awesome work--why was there no soundtrack LP for a BOB FOSSE film for crissakes?!--can be heard in the below scenes, to my ears, the music drawing inspiration from disco, Billy Joel, "I'm So Excited," and "On Broadway."  Love the American Gigolo vibe of the shopping scene.

These Roberts-centric scenes take on a fun, humorous quality, when taken out of the context of the larger narrative, which is, of course, quite tragic, disturbing, and unpleasant.  More than most other instances of actors essaying people who behave badly, that I can recall, Roberts plays this scumbag seemingly without any regard to how hate-able and pathetic the character and, by extension--he, comes off, resulting in a masterful performance.

This might have something to do with Roberts wanting to make his character (a statutory rapist) in the subsequent Runaway Train more sympathetic by changing him from a hardened New Yorker to a Southern country bumpkin.  And, it almost certainly impacted his future career in a negative way, as he became so associated with, and was so good at, playing a very bad guy.

At the start of the below video, Mickey Rourke preaches the gospel with regards to Roberts when he's supposed to be accepting his Spirit Award for The Wrestler.  Says Rourke, "Eric Roberts is the fuckin' man."

Mandalay (1934, Michael Curtiz)

Released only a few months before the Hays Code began to be enforced, Michael Curtiz' Mandalay (available via the Warner Archive's invaluable Forbidden Hollywood series) contains one of the more stunning "some crimes go unpunished" finishes that I can recall in a pre-Code film.  It also confirms the talents and cool of Kay Francis, which were mostly under-appreciated in her lifetime and largely remain so today (outside of Trouble in Paradise and a few pairings with William Powell).

Property of Nick.

Made at a point when she was still a top box office draw at Warner Bros., Francis plays Tonya Borodoff, sold by her gun-running boyfriend Ricardo Cortez (aka Jacob Krantz) into an upscale brothel in Rangoon, where she is ever-so-subtly referred to as "Spot White" by proprietor Warner Oland and his customer base. Taught the tricks of the trade by an elder madame (Rafaela Ottiano), and thereby gaining the upper hand with her monied male customers, she is able to get away from Nick's place with a sizable savings in her pocket and travel by boat to a place where she will be unknown: Mandalay.  And, this is when Tony (Cortez) re-enters the picture...

While not an exceptional work in Curtiz or Francis' extensive oeuvres, it does offer the aforementioned delicious, proto-EC Comics ending, something out of a Tales From the Crypt story, but about 15 years ahead of the curve.

Pre-Code mainstay Lyle Talbot, here essaying "good man tormented by his past."

Knowing a little something about Francis' career and offscreen life--her diaries reveal she was gay, or at the very least bisexual, and that she had no desire to be remembered after her death--Tonya's quest to get paid and get away from her past becomes more resonant.

Property of Tony.

"My life?  Well, I get up at a quarter to six in the morning if I'm going to wear an evening dress on camera.  That sentence sounds a little ga-ga, doesn't it?  But never mind, that's my life...As long as they pay me my salary, they can give me a broom and I'll sweep the stage.  I don't give a damn.  I want the money...When I die, I want to be cremated so that no sign of my existence is left on this earth.  I can't wait to be forgotten." - Kay Francis, private diaries circa 1938.

One of those "up at a quarter to six" mornings.

To Find a Man (1972, Buzz Kulik)

When she discovers she is pregnant, 16-year-old Rosalind (Pamela Sue Martin) returns home to New York from boarding school and asks her childhood friend Andy (Darren O'Connor) to help her obtain an abortion.  Made just prior to Roe v. Wade, Buzz Kulik's 1972 coming-of-age-film To Find a Man offers an illuminating look into the process of getting an abortion in New York City before the landmark Supreme Court decision, while also providing some nice showcases to Hollywood veterans Lloyd Bridges, Tom Bosley, and Tom Ewell. O'Connor, who who had only a couple more acting gigs before studying law, is excellent as Andy, the brainy kid next door, a little goofy, yes, but not lacking in confidence.  He hasn't put the moves on Rosalind, but it's not because he's an awkward nerd who's afraid of girls.  It seems that it's just not his major pre-occupation, as it is for his slovenly schoolmate Pete (a chubby, long-haired, pot-smoking Miles Chapin). Rosalind is beautiful, but spoiled and not very bright, or as her father (Lloyd Bridges) puts it so delicately after a few drinks, "She's got most of her brains in her tits."  Despite director Kulik's television pedigree, a tv movie this is not!  That said, as was so often the case in the early days of the ratings system, it received a GP (later PG) rating, in spite of its having a fair share of adult language and content. 

Martin matches O'Connor with her performance and in contrast to her character's aforementioned shortcomings, she is not mean-spirited and she remains a sweet and likable presence throughout; in short, she's more complex than my description makes her sound.  The young stars' fine work culminates with the film's pitch-perfect ending in a wintry Central Park.

For fans of Glynnis O'Connor, it's a trip to see some of the same mannerisms and vocal inflections in the person of Darren O'Connor. 

Until it showed up recently on streaming services such as iTunes and Amazon, To Find a Man was sadly lost for all intents and purposes. Part of an underrated wave of teen pictures of the 1970s, of which I'd also include Jeremy (starring Darren's younger sister Glynnis), To Find a Man is moving and affecting without being overly sentimental or cloying.  It has many of the best qualities of the films of this era--progressive in its ideas, shot and performed in a docu-realist fashion, and frank while also maintaining a layer of ambiguity.  It is not saddled with the irony and myriad pop culture references of so many of the teen films of the '80s nor does it wrap everything up in a shiny bow.

Working from a novel by S.J. Wilson, veteran scribe Arnold Schulman was an appropriate choice to write the film adaptation, as he had earlier written (and been Oscar-nominated for) the original screenplay for Love With the Proper Stranger, a film which had dared to take on much of the same material nearly ten years earlier. '70s stalwarts, David Shire and Andrew Laszlo were on hand for scoring and cinematography duties respectively.  Shire's score is appropriately melancholy, but also jaunty and hummable in parts. Laszlo covers some of the same "dirty old New York" turf that he would return to in The Warriors.

Chemistry of another kind.

While the "New Hollywood" was largely the domain of young men both in front of and behind the camera, To Find a Man is refreshing in that it offers audiences a chance to see old-timers like Bridges, rather than his boys Beau and Jeff, outside of the confines of the studio era.  The work of Bosley, Bridges, and Ewell opposite young O'Connor is the highlight of the film for me, with each moving the narrative in unexpected directions.  Bridges and Ewell are particularly moving and I found myself re-watching their scenes a second time, and shedding a tear or two, as they both perhaps see something of their younger selves, or something they wished they still had, in the boy verging on manhood.  

A fine post-Sea Hunt, pre-Hot Shots performance is given by Bridges pere.

It's just one of many fine films of the era that have slipped through the cracks in terms of availability and by the fact that they haven't been written into the popular narrative of what one unfortunate written account dubbed "easy riders, raging bulls."  I guess, though, that it is the nature of such narratives to simplify and narrow the criteria so that it all can ultimately fit nicely into an hour-long made-for-IFC Channel talking head piece.

"Well, what the hell is this?!  In order to get an abortion here, you gotta make an appointment before you're pregnant!"

....anyway, have a look at Larry Karaszewski's informative "Trailers From Hell" piece on the film and rent / download the feature before it's taken down.  Thanks, Larry...where in the hell did you unearth that trailer anyway?!

It wouldn't be a "dirty old New York" movie without a little mugging.

Kulik returned to New York to shoot Columbia's Shamus the next year, including scenes on the grounds of the future, first-ever Brooklyn Whole Foods in Gowanus!