Death Wish (1974, Michael Winner)
I have a strange relationship with Michael Winner - or maybe I should rephrase that. I have a strange relationship with his films. Most of his work is in the realm between disastrous and hilarious, with the exception of his alleged comedies which are simply painful. I defy anyone to watch Parting Shots and feel the slightest elevation of the corners of their mouth at any point. On the other hand, thrillers such as Scream For Help, Firepower and the peerlessly stupid Dirty Weekend are so hysterically funny that they make most comedy films look like Ibsen.
Yet, I find myself drawn to some of his work in a slightly guilty way - like eating an Aztec bar, I know its bad for me but I can’t resist. I could, were I so inclined, defend the artistic merits of some of his films, particularly The Jokers, I’ll Never Forget Whatsisname and The Nightcomers. But usually I like them for the sheer aggressive energy of their silliness - the way in which virtually every second of The Sentinel contains something gratuitous, be it masturbating prostitutes, circus freaks or Burgess Meredith, or Death Wish 3 where Charlie Bronson lives in a part of America that looks like North London and buys a rocket launcher through the post.
Most of all though, I like Death Wish. I don’t like its politics; the usual reactionary right-wing bullshit designed to wind up bleeding-heart liberal souls such as myself. At the start of the film, Bronson’s work colleague suggests putting the underprivileged in concentration camps to stop them committing crime and the film seems to end up agreeing what that sentiment. In the book by Brian Garfield, the hero Paul Kersey ends up becoming as much part of the problem as part of the cure and one suspects that, had the film been made by Sidney Lumet and starred Jack Lemmon (as originally planned), this would have been more faithfully represented. All the muggers and rapists killed by Bronson are not only sub-human scum but total sociopaths who behave in a manner which is so reckless that it beggars belief. Quite apart from anything else, there are so many of them. How does anyone survive in New York when you apparently can’t turn a corner without someone trying to kill you (whether because they’re a mugger or think you are a mugger).
But… Death Wish is a very well made film which is suspenseful, exciting and entertaining. Winner paces it at one hell of a lick, refusing to offer any time for the audience to have second thoughts about what they’re seeing. The script by veteran Wendell Mayes is a model of ruthless efficiency and spiced up with some welcome humour, particularly from Vincent Gardenia’s cold-afflicted cop. Best of all is Arthur J. Ornitz’s cinematography. A veteran of movies about the city, he makes this one of the definitive New York films of the 1970s; the look of the film is very similar to that of his previous film Serpico, which was the film Lumet made instead of this one.
And Bronson is just brilliant. Say what you like about his acting - although it’s nothing to be ashamed of - his presence is phenomenal and absolutely grounds the film in reality. He is convincing both in the early scenes, where he’s required to have a couple of potentially embarrassing breakdowns, and in the later action moments. Whatever Bronson does, you believe in him and that’s totally crucial to the success of the film. I don’t think that Steve McQueen (another potential candidate for the role) would have had the same effect, nor would Clint Eastwood. Death Wish is one of Bronson’s two signature roles - the other is Harmonica in Once Upon a Time in the West - and it’s certainly one of the films by which he deserves to be remembered. I would also suggest that if we’re going to remember Michael Winner, it would be kind to use this as a memorial rather than to recall his ludicrous TV appearances, multiple face-lifts (so I hear) and gruesome romantic life.
A couple of minor points - why are District Attorneys in 1970s films either slimy double-dealers or lily-livered liberals (see Josef Sommer in Dirty Harry)? And don’t you love the way Stephen Elliott makes ‘laboratory’ sound like ‘lavatory’ at the press conference.