Post by Eddie Love on Sept 10, 2011 11:35:07 GMT -5
What’s the formula for a 70s international thriller? Murder, to start with. And how about an innocent brought in to investigate who soon finds themselves over their head amid a vast conspiracy? Throw in the specter of Middle Eastern terrorists and start globe trotting, with a stopover in Berlin a must. Oh yeah, and Nazis. You gotta have some Nazis. Add menace and action to taste. Released in 1980, THE FORMULA lives up to its name, and while it’s an almost lifeless affair, it’s still fairly sturdy and, if you come to it in the proper frame of mind, pretty interesting.
The picture begins in the closing hours of the Third Reich. An assemblage of Nazi scientists gathers to dispatch a general off to Switzerland in an attempt to negotiate a deal with the ever-approaching allies. Their bargaining tool: a cache of Germany’s scientific breakthroughs developed during the war. However, by the time this mother lode is intercepted by a young American officer, the war has ended and the fate of these documents thereafter becomes murky. Cut to years later, the present day. The Army Colonel in question has been murdered and it falls to his buddy, an L.A. cop (George C. Scott), to get to the bottom of the secret of the Nazi’s most groundbreaking scientific formula, even as the hunt takes him across Europe and into the boardroom of a shady California oil baron (Marlon Brando).
The movie has the unusual distinction of having been produced by the screenwriter who was adapting his own novel. Perhaps I’m projecting based on this fact, but that may be why things seem to have a slavish fealty to the busy details of the plot. In fact, watching this picture feels a little like listening to a book-on-tape where you have to really concentrate on what you’re hearing or you're quickly lost. To compound this feeling, you never see some of the action and characters that are central to the plot, and there are a lot of names to keep track off.
And there’s nothing wrong with that, if you know what you’re getting into and you’re in the right mood. Just don’t expect much in the way of anything terribly cinematic. That’s not to say that this is entirely flat in that regard, there are solid production values – it doesn’t look like a TV show, but it is a very staid film. The director John G Avildosn (ROCKY) does occasionally try and liven things up with some visual juice. There’s a very long tracking shot of Scott winding his way through the halls and down the stairwells of police headquarters as he talks to his boss. No joke, the two actors must cover about a quarter mile. (And that’s not the only scene where Scott is tasked with firing off reams of dialogue in a single take.) Even better though is a bit where Scott interviews G.D. Spradlin (the terrific character actor who died a few weeks ago) at a racetrack. It’s another tracking shot and the two walk under a passageway where shadows obscure Spradlin’s face at the very moment we suspect he’s beginning to prevaricate in response to Scott’s questions.
Elsewhere, there’s a scene in a kinky German nightclub that’s supposed to add some flavor, but comes off as showy and unconvincing. And that’s about it, the rest of the film is offered up at the same even temperature. There’s a big dramatic scene where Scott confronts someone who’s betrayed him that has no cinematic dimension to it at all. For a climactic moment, it looks and feels just like every other scene of the cop sitting down to question someone in this case. Nor, is there any real action in the movie. A couple of shots are fired, but you’re not likely to sit up when they do.
Which leaves the movie really in the hands of the two acting titans. (And the only two stars to turn down their Best Actor Oscars.) It’s an interesting face-off. Scott burrows in with his slow burning, take-no-bullshit intensity and Brando offers up a highly eccentric take that we’re never quite certain is on the level. Is he kidding here? At times, he resembles the actor David Huddleston with his baldpate and false teeth, a shambling gate and ill-fitting three-piece suits. (He also wears a hearing aid that, legend has it, fed him his lines, a technological advance over the cue cards he used on SUPERMAN.) He’s supposed to be a cold-blooded business genius, but comes off as almost clownish, but fascinating nonetheless and not unconvincing. Unfortunately, when he pontificates with his Machiavellian rationales he’s compelling but not remotely sinister. Today he may come across as a goofy Dick Cheney. That may be a commentary on the banality of evil, but for a conspiracy thriller it would be nice to convey some…you know… thrills? That said, you certainly won’t be uninterested when he’s on screen. (Which is only for a three scenes, I think, in total.)
Scott, meanwhile, was coming to the end of a fascinating hit-and-miss decade of starring roles. He’s excellent here as he offers up that all-encompassing wince of his that can communicate just about anything.
I’d long wanted to see this movie and, though not bowled over, was glad I did. It’s over two hours and slow-moving at that. But even as the pace and thrills may be lacking, at it’s core it raises some nagging and provocative notions about the oil and gas industry that are certainly as relevant today as they were in the aftermath of the 70s “energy crisis.” It's a movie that's smarter than it is entertaining or stylish, but worth a look.