Paul Schrader

 

 

Hardcore (1979) – 3 stars

American Gigolo (1980) – 3 stars

Cat People (1982) – 2 ½ stars

Light Sleeper (1992) – 3 ½ stars

Auto Focus (2002) – 3 stars

This week, I watched 5 Paul Schrader films (so you don’t have to?).  I suppose my (half-hearted) mission was to see whether the acclaimed Taxi Driver (1976) screenwriter could be considered an auteur or not.  He’s certainly directed a lot of films, between Blue Collar (1978) which is actually really good (with Richard Pryor, Harvey Keitel, and Yaphet Kotto – reviewed on my blog) and his most recent release Oh Canada (2024), which I haven’t seen. Mishima (1985) and First Reformed (2017) are also recommended, as is Affliction (1997) which I haven’t rewatched since then.  The above list makes it seem that Schrader is consistently releasing solid work across many decades but alas my snapshot of films across 3 decades suggests it is not true.  

Hardcore (1979) his second film finds George C. Scott heading from Michigan to L. A. to find his daughter who has apparently run away to make porno films. This gritty shot-on-location is typically described as reflecting Schrader’s upbringing in a puritanical Dutch Calvinist church community, with Scott portraying the judgmental scornful Christian that Schrader was socialised to be. The film doesn’t hold back from the sleaze and seems to want to show some affection toward some of its lost characters but is instead seems to pity them, even while displaying a voyeuristic tendency that might actually be one of Schrader’s auteur trademarks if we grant him that status.  

The next film moves from gritty (Blue Collar and Hardcore) straight into sleek and stylish with Richard Gere on display as the titular American Gigolo (1980) and Giorgio Moroder’s electronic variations on Blondie’s “Call Me” (which he cowrote) pulsing on the soundtrack.  Gere is Schrader’s existential loner -- and this is the first film in his “Lonely Man” trilogy, where he takes inspiration from Bresson’s Pickpocket (1959).  Schrader wrote a classic book about Transcendental Film that focused on Bresson, Ozu, and Dreyer.  But try as I might, I just couldn’t see this film as transcendental.  Gere forms a bond with a senator’s wife (Lauren Hutton) from whom he accepts no money and she is his only solace when he is framed for a murder, possibly by his pimp.  It isn’t bad but it isn’t good (Hector Elizondo is interesting as the homicide detective, even if the rest of the acting is boring). 

Up next: Cat People (1982), inspired by the 1942 Val Lewton/Jacques Tourneur classic but by no means a remake.  Natassja Kinski and Malcolm McDowell are literally descendents of half-cat, half human ancient entities who transform into animals if they have sex with anyone outside of their species and must kill in order to return to human form.  Despite Kinski prowling around naked, the film is nearly stultifying, even if John Heard gives it his best shot as a New Orleans zookeeper. Is anybody lonely? Maybe, since they are estranged from their species.  Moroder hardly uses Bowie’s theme music at all.  Did I mention these two films were produced by Jerry Bruckheimer? Enough said.  

Fast forward 10 years to Light Sleeper (1992) starring Willem Dafoe as another lonely man, this time a drug dealer working for Susan Sarandon.  He’s finally gotten clean and thinking about his future since Sarandon wants to get out of the business.  A run in with an ex-lover throws him out-of-sorts.  This film is a step up from the others but often feels artificial – is it a thriller, is it arthouse, it isn’t sure.  Dafoe carries it with his artistry (and we get another jailhouse scene from Pickpocket to boot). 

Dafoe does appear in a few Schrader films throughout the years and he also brings his talent to Auto Focus (2002) which returns us to a very sleazy world in this biopic of Bob Crane from Hogan’s Heroes (played by Greg Kinnear).  Crane’s interest in perving was aided and abetted by electronics expert John Carpenter (Dafoe) who introduced him to videocameras, VCRs, homemade pornography and swinging.  Crane himself doesn’t feel like one of Schrader’s lonely men but there must be a void he’s trying to fill with all this smut.  It’s a true story and Crane was murdered, probably by Carpenter.  Dafoe keeps it creepy and Schrader is back to his judgmental/voyeuristic push-pull act.  You kind of can’t look away.  

So, where does this leave us?  If I fold in half-formed memories of First Reformed, Affliction, Mishima, and newer films like the Card Counter (2021), it sort of does feel that Schrader should be granted auteur status.  However, the problem is likely that he isn’t a very good or consistent director or is too much subjected to the commercial needs of his producers (or his own poor instincts).  The themes may be there but too many of the films are average or worse.  Still, he does manage to find more acorns than a blind squirrel might.