THE DAY OF THE LOCUST (1975)

             Adapted from Nathaniel West’s apocalyptic novel of Old Hollywood, John Schlesinger’s The Day of the Locust holds many lessons for the obsessives among us.  Unlike most of our recently produced period pieces (where even the dirt looks clean), it genuinely comes across as part of the time in which it’s set.  Nothing we see is freshly painted or just out of the wrapper.  Instead – hewing to the movie’s theme, and much of life in general – everything appears somewhat worn, used, abraded.  While Richard MacDonald’s art direction played a big part in this, it’s Conrad Hall, ASC’s photography that unified the textures.  His inspired vision shows a hell on earth that will stick with you long after seeing it.  In many ways, this is a horrible, disturbing film.  It’s also the best one made about its subject.

            Hall once said, “When I go to the movies, I like to experience a good despair.”  That thought must’ve been foremost in his mind while shooting TDOTL.  The irony is that the ugliness he exposed is sheathed in what we normally think of as beauty work.  Tones are appealingly warm and the characters are often shown in a flattering light that reveals more about the way they see themselves than how they actually are.  Following that, the overall mood is unsettling.  You keep expecting something good to happen to one of these people, but it never does.  Visually, they’re living in an inescapable poisoned paradise.

            I’ve always believed that period pieces require some sort of distancing device to help create a bit of detachment between the present moment and what the audience is witnessing.  Toward that end, Hall varied in his use of three types of nets over his lenses (during the concluding riot sequence, he switched to Mitchell Glass Diffusion, in grades C and D).  Combined with the color and lighting schemes, their effect once again reminds us of the unique looks that were possible in the old photo-chemical system.  The movie also features something more often associated with television work at the time – an inordinate reliance on the zoom lens.  I can attest from practical experience that it’s not easy managing filtration levels while cycling through various focal lengths, yet nothing about Hall’s judgement calls attention to itself.  It’s an amazing display of finesse.

            On a separate note, it’s also amazing to see how much of early-70’s Los Angeles still looked the way it did in the ’30’s, when the movie is set.  Chinatown (1974; Roman Polanski\John Alonzo, ASC) raked the same turf, but its own dark theme was no match for this display.  At the end of TDOTL, when the characters’ lives finally collapse in a roiling pile of madness on Hollywood Boulevard, we know there’s no hope for recovery.  The film’s final shot sums up everything with a simultaneous insult and homage to the phony veneer of the studio era.

            When Karen Black’s wannabe movie star Faye Greener steps through the door of a deserted bungalow, she’s initially silhouetted against the bright exterior behind her; the effect is sinister and foreboding.  But watch how Hall brings up the fill light and changes exposure as the camera dollies in.  As we end in a tight close up on Faye, she’s lit in a glamorous, big screen style that plays against the obliviousness she has for her situation in life.  Like so much else concerning Hall’s work in this movie, it’s a simple device…and it’s simply brilliant!