In this 40th Annual Academy Award Best Picture winner, directed
by Norman Jewison, a black Philadelphian detective gets caught up in a murder
investigation in the racist south. Virgil Tibbs, played by… well, they call him
MISTER Poitier!, is mistaken for a criminal by Police Chief Bill
Gillespie. He is then, through odd circumstances, asked to stick around and partner-up
with Gillespie. The two don’t exactly hit it off immediately, but slowly
overcome their prejudices as their respect for one another grows. Like Poitier’s
other two films that year, “To Sir, with Love” and “Guess Who's Coming to Dinner,” this
movie is fueled by the racial tension it explores.
However, another film was released in 1967, and it deserves
another look. “
The Graduate” stars Dustin Hoffman as a recent college graduate,
Benjamin Braddock; Anne Bancroft as a seductive older woman, Mrs. Robinson; and
Katharine Ross as Mrs. Robinson’s daughter, Elaine. Benjamin returns from
college to his white-collar family’s home in California with no sense of
direction and uneasiness of the uncertainness of his future. After being forced
to bear his parents’ coordinated graduation party and an onslaught of
congratulatory cheek-pinches and unsolicited pieces of career advice like, “I
just want to say one word to you. Just one word… Are you listening?
…’plastics,’” he is asked to give Mrs.
Robinson a lift home. Once at Mrs. Robinson’s house, she insists that he accompanies
her inside and then in a quite forward and almost desperate act of “seduction,”
strips down and throws out an open invitation. The two spend the rest of the
summer in hotel rooms, and between visits, Benjamin lounges around poolside or
in front of the television as the realization that something might be missing from
his life slowly begins to dawn on him.
This film has a lot going on, and Director Mike Nichols is
to thank for much of it. His film was ranked as high as 7 on American Film
Institute’s “100 Years…100 Movies” series. He brought
a level of passion to the film that went way beyond normal directing duties. For
example, he felt so strongly about the music in the film, he battled producers
and sacrificed his first casting choice for Mrs. Robinson, Doris Day, in order
to secure that the music of Simon and Garfunkel remain dominant in the film.
From a technical standpoint, Nichols owned it. He utilized a
long telescopic lens and straight-on camera angle during the film’s climax to
create the optical illusion that Benjamin wasn’t gaining ground during his sprint
toward Elaine’s wedding. This served as a brilliant metaphor for everything
that had come before in Benjamin’s journey. Throughout the film, camera angles
are used to counter audience expectations. Imagery of Benjamin being submerged
in water helps communicate his overwhelmed and static state. “I knew that Mike
Nichols was a young director who went in for a lot of camera. In fact, I told
my operator and my assistants, 'You fellows be prepared because you’re going to
do some way-out shots,’” said Cinematographer Robert Surtees. For one shot, involving Benjamin
jumping into a swimming pool in full scuba gear, a special cameraman was hired
and forced to rehearse for two days. Influenced by European filmmakers, Surtees and the “New Hollywood”
director envisioned the look of the film as more “art-house” than “Oscar-nominated,”
(though he would win Best Director for the film) as they rewrote the book on cinematography.
Another strongpoint is the film’s cast. In an odd way, Mel
Brooks actually played a key role in this. Nichols had exhausted Hollywood’s
cache of available leading men and things were beginning to seem hopeless. In
the original novel, Benjamin is described as a tall blue-eyed, blond-haired WASP.
Nichols was more interested in finding an underdog than a track star. Here’s
part of conversation between Nichols and Robert Redford during the casting
process: "Well, let's put it this way - have you ever struck out with a
girl?” asked Nichols." "What do you mean?" responded Redford.
"That's precisely my point," said Nichols.
Hoffman was trepidatious
about moving away from New York’s Off-Broadway theatre world. “I’m immediately
feeling miserable,” he said. “I just have bad feelings about the whole thing.
This is not the part for me. I’m not supposed to be in movies.” However, he had
been wooed into film by Brooks and the script to “The Producers.” Brooks was
familiar with “The Graduate” as his wife, the already-cast Bancroft, had been
reading it quite a bit around the house. Brooks saw no harm in letting Hoffman
go out to L.A. to screen-test because he was sure Hoffman didn’t stand a chance
in hell. Hoffman auditioned and would later refer to the entire experience as “a
Jewish nightmare.” When the screen-test concluded, Hoffman went around shaking
hands and thanking the crew. When he got to the propman, he pulled his hand out
of his pocket and spilled New York subway tokens all over the floor. They both
dropped to pick them up, and the propman handed over his share and said, “Here,
kid. You’re going to need these.” But Hoffman’s nervousness and awkwardness was
just what Nichols was looking for.
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| "So old Elaine Robinson got started in a Ford."
|
My favorite aspect of the movie is the music. “The Graduate”
is the film that shaped how modern films utilize pop music. Before 1967, films
would either solely use an originally composed score or record a song for the
film, and then release it for radio play. The film includes "The Sounds of
Silence," "Scarborough Fair,” "Mrs. Robinson," "The
Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine" and "April Come She Will." Paul
Simon was originally reluctant about contributing to the film, but eventually
presented a song, “Mrs. Roosvelt” (about Eleanor Roosevelt), that would become
the classic “Mrs. Robinson."
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| Photo by Richard Avedon. |
“April Come She Will” is one of my all time favorites. In
it, we hear the changing of the seasons; feel the weight of age and the loss of
time. With only acoustic guitar and a single voice, the song isn’t simple, but
direct. Like the montage it scores, it summarizes a dichotomy of love and
simultaneous emptiness. During the montage, Benjamin walks in and out of each
day of his affair with Mrs. Robinson, but with each new shot of Benjamin,
something more is lost behind his eyes. That look of loss might be his draining
complacency. That scene drew me into the story and helped make a film that could
be misconstrued as just a light-hearted bedroom romp, into a real look at the stalemate
that can consume a young man with no direction. I was that guy for a long time.
I was that guy through most of my twenties. There was a period in my life when I
watched “The Graduate” once a week. Some scenes made me giggle uncontrollably;
others felt like they were out of a horror film. I’m now five weeks away from
graduating and standing at monumental crossroads in my life, and I watched this
film again for the first time since attending college. I’m still laughing at
the more comical scenes, and cringing at others. Some films wear their release
date on their sleeve; some find and explore themes that are universal. For me, “The
Graduate” passes the test of time.
