Interesting AIP Depression-era gangster flick, from Martin Scorsese’s
salad days. Twilight Time, in association with 20th Century-Fox and MGM, has
released on Blu-ray BOXCAR BERTHA, the 1972 American International Pictures
actioner from producer Roger Corman, directed by Scorsese, written by Joyce
and John Corrington, and starring Barbara Hershey, David Carradine, Barry Primus,
Bernie Casey, Harry Northup, Victor Argo, David Osterhout, and John Carradine.
Based on Commie agitator Ben L. Reitman’s fictional heroine, BOXCAR BERTHA
may mumble a few vague words about communists, socialists, and capitalists,
but in the end, politics have very little (thank god) to do with this fairly
decent, female-centric BONNIE & CLYDE variation. Twilight Time has delivered
up a punchy 1080p HD 1.85:1 Blu transfer, along with some liner notes, an original
trailer, and an isolated score track.
Lush, ripe, innocent Southern trash Bertha (Barbara Hershey) watches her crop-dusting
Pop splatter all over the Arkansas clay because, well...it’s the Depression,
and they needed the money, and no matter how much Pop complained to his wealthy
farmer client about a faulty magneto (the plane’s not his), he just had
to take that crate up in the air, see? Bertha attacks the farmer and his chauffer
(what farmer has a chauffer?), with the aid of Pop’s mechanic, Von Morton
(Bernie Casey) and nearby gandy dancer “Big” Bill Shelly (David
Carradine), a loud-mouthed union organizer. Later, Bill deflowers a willing
Bertha in a filthy boxcar after he incites a riot against the Reading Railroad
company, disappearing in the morning after leaving money in her shoe (class-eee).
At a hobo jungle, Bertha meets barely competent card sharpie Rake Brown (Barry
Primus) and takes a shine to him. Soon, the lovers are fleecing the moneyed
Southern elite...until Rake is caught cheating and Bertha shoots dead an outraged
pigeon. Reunited with Bill, and promptly switching lovers, Bertha is the only
one to escape a police set-up by some racist, murderous sheriff’s deputies,
with the men barely surviving a massacre in their holding cell. Sentenced to
a chain gang, they’re eventually busted out by Bertha, with the willing
Rake, Bertha, and Von—and the deeply conflicted, reluctant Bill—turning
into a train-and-bank robbing gang, intent on smashing Reading Railroad and
its evil, rich capitalist owner, H. Buckram Sartoris (John Carradine).
Back in 1972, BOXCAR BERTHA caused a minor stir not at the box office, but rather
in the gossip columns when stars and real-life lovers Carradine and Hershey
claimed in a Playboy interview that their sex scenes in the movie were
the real deal (it’s a testament to how uninterested mainstream audiences
were in minor leads Carradine and Hershey—or unknown Scorsese at that
time—that this salacious bombshell didn’t translate into boffo box
office). Those same scenes now seem so abbreviated and downright chaste by today’s
technically adroit phony movie humping, that BOXCAR BERTHA’s other claim
to fame—being director Martin Scorsese’s first bona fide studio
effort—is its chief historical calling card.
Not as mythical or epic or as exhilaratingly violent as Milius’ DILLINGER,
nor as hilariously grotesque and spoofy at Corman's BLOODY MAMA, BOXCAR BERTHA
isn’t the most memorable entry from the late 1960s, early 1970s revisionist
Depression-era gangster subgenre, one born out of the phenomenal success of
BONNIE & CLYDE (Bosley Crowther was more right than wrong that first time
out...). BOXCAR BERTHA has become overrated now, too, by critics and scholars
looking for auteurist links with Scorsese’ oeuvre (just read
Twilight’s liner notes by overly enthusiastic-but-ultimately fuzzy Julie
Kirgo). Certainly thematic threads that have interested Scorsese over the years—kinetic,
unpleasant violence, revenge and pointless redemption, and guilt-ridden protagonists—show
through BOXCAR BERTHA’s cheap, rushed production (a mere $600,000 budget
and a three weeks-and-change shooting schedule).
And there are all kinds of intriguing ideas here—not exactly the norm
for this kind of B exploiter. Some of Scorsese’s trademark visual stylistics
are a bit crude at this early stage of the game (that opening, cutting back
and forth between Hershey scratching her firm, naked thigh and Carradine driving
a railroad spike, is bad Film School Symbolism 101), but most do work, particularly
when he shoots for grungy Depression atmosphere and gauzy contrasts (Hershey’s
time at a cat house is shot like a glossy dream). BOXCAR BERTHA may not have
as many laughs as BLOODY MAMA or Aldrich’s THE GRISSOM GANG, but there’s
a lot more sex here than DILLINGER (sex to Milius is either smacking a broad
in the face or blasting a Tommy gun). And it isn’t inserted just to satisfy
producer Corman’s reported edict for skin every fifteen pages or so in
the script (more about this below). The obligatory car chase scene in Scorsese’s
hands is messy and chaotic and over before we’re allowed to enjoy it,
while some isolated shots at the politics of the era from the screenwriting
Corrington duo (THE OMEGA MAN, BATTLE FOR THE PLANET OF THE APES) amuse as much
for their naiveté as for their incongruity in what sometimes appears
to be a gangster skin flick. Best of all, the Corringtons and Scorsese take
Carradine the male anti-hero—the one we expect to do all the speechifying
and rectifying and gun-blastin’—and turn him into an almost completely
ineffectual, even insignificant bystander to the events. He’s a rotten
union organizer (he runs off with Hershey once the fists start flying), he’s
a worse bank robber and escaped convict, and a downright terrible agent of revenge
and justice (if it was deliberate to have the revenge subplot against John Carradine’s
railroad magnate sort of fizzle out in New Wavish pointlessness—rather
than just being undeveloped due to budget or script problems—than all
the better).
That’s why it’s a shame that other elements in BOXCAR BERTHA couldn’t
have been expanded or elaborated on for a more cohesive whole. Hershey’s
Bertha is front and center the heroine of the piece (refreshing right there,
considering the genre), and there are hints that the character possesses a fairly
complicated sexuality that ties in directly with her gangster activities, as
well as with how she drives the actions of her lovers. If we take Carradine’s
assessment that Bertha actually is a virgin when he takes her, she’s a
fairly eager one (why is she smiling when she finds his money in her shoe—an
act that a lot of women would find insulting after their first time, to say
the very least). And throughout the movie, that suggestion of an enjoyment of
sex—and how Bertha uses it to survive or get what she needs—is resented
by Carradine. She has sex with scam partner Primus when she doesn’t need
to, and even kills to protect the little coward...and then drops him literally
in a second once a reunited Carradine possessively grasps her breast. Carradine
flips when she flirts with a guard to bust the guys out of the chain gang. When
she’s on the street, after Carradine is jailed again and when her ill-gotten
booty (couldn’t resist) has been stolen, she takes up employment at a
cat house, after about two seconds of indecision. Scorsese may show her thoughtfully
pining for Carradine...but he also shows her smiling and seemingly enjoying
her new duties (there’s an absolutely remarkable shot of Hershey’s
face being caressed by an unseen john, with a look of...of what I don’t
know. But it’s certainly not the look of an unwilling woman being exploited
for sex).
All of these intimations and insinuations about Bertha’s sexuality and
its power (and conflicted aims) are fascinating as hell...but they’re
doggedly unresolved, not deliberately for the sake of complexity, but I suspect
rather because of a not-quite-there script, and a director too rushed and financially
strapped to work it all out. A lot of critics and fans of BOXCAR BERTHA mention
the finale as an all-saving grace for this sometimes shaky exploiter (Carradine’s
crucifixion is certainly memorable—if almost comically outlandish—but
that breathtaking shotgun shoot-out looks as modern and arresting as anything
out there today). It’s certainly a cool bit of proto-Scorsese pyrotechnics,
but it puts emphasis on the wrong character as we metaphorically “walk
out of the theater.” Frankly...I was more interested in Bertha’s
revelations and redemption.
Twilight Time's 1080p HD 1.85:1 widescreen transfer looks quite good. Color values are subtle, fine image detail is strong, grain is filmic and tight, blacks solid, and no compression issues. Very nice. The DTS-HD mono audio track is re-recorded at a strong level; dialogue is clean. English subtitles are available. Extras include an isolated music track, Julie Kirgo's liner notes and an original trailer. (Paul Mavis)