Brewster McCloud

Brewster McCloud was the kind of picture I could imagine having being written over many (count *many*) joints and after not getting a career going as an ornithologist (I might add, the screenwriter only had two or three other projects produced, and nowhere near as seen as this one is in comparison). It's as nutty as a Clark bar: a kid with the title name (Bud Cort, in an immediate precursor-type performance to his Harold in Harold and Maude as an awkward, shy outsider who has a some kind of desire behind his geeky exterior) is at the task of building wings so he can fly, and he builds it in the basement/boiler room of the Houstin Astrodome. Some mysterious woman played by Sally Kellerman is, I think, killing people that seem to end up really pestering Brewster, which include a craggy Mr. Burns figure (Stacy Keach, hilariously one-note), a narc, and a random dude with a chain. I'd guess she's the killer- there's a whole sub-plot, by the way, with a police investigation headed by Shaft (no, not talking about that one, Michael Murphy plays him here, that's right), who's more interested in the bird dung that keeps showing up on the deceased instead of regular police work.

Meanwhile, Jennifer Salt gets off on the vibes of a half-nude Brewster doing chin-ups, Shelly Duvall with over-extended eye-lashes falls for Brewster one moment and then rats on him the next, and then there's still Kellerman doing her thing thwarting off, and...did I mention there's a professor/narrator who seems like a mental patient with a lot of facts about fowl? So much of this is hard to take, and towards the end it becomes very frustrating trying to put *any* sense to it (how is Duvall so good at evading the police, how is that one cop such a buffoon to read Captain America while on a stake-out, why does Jennifer Salt keep popping up and giving Brewster food/orgasms, and how much symbolic "ah, I'm a blonde angel" can we take from Kellerman?) But then again, why bother? Altman is after the sly humor of the quirky as opposed to real common sense, and it's in his dedication and intelligence in following through with these characters, no matter how strange or subtle or inexplicably charming or demented they are, that makes the film work up to the point that it does.

And despite a sort of unsatisfying last twenty minutes with Brewster and some of the supporting characters (the whole sex angle is a little weak and too dated for me to buy), there's some experimentation for the director that would probably not come again. There's a car chase, for example, through the roads of Houston, and while it's not exciting on a Bullit type of level, it's fascinating to see when the sudden twists and turns pop up, unexpectedly (where did the little red car come from?), and there's even a remarkable slow-motion shot where, as part of a theme of the film, the cars fly above their intended plane. I also liked how Altman worked in an overly Felliniesque ending, as uncomfortable a catharsis it seems to be, with the Astrodome suddenly being flooded with carnival figures, and the main characters donned in costumes and wigs and such. Brewster McCloud is a funny bird, no pun intended, of a early 70s obscurity, a film that likely got a hundredth of the public attention that MASH got, but is probably just as strong in what it wants to deliver to its eclectic audience (albeit, personally, I think MASH is maybe Altman's most overrated). And it's probably the weirdest stoner movie that the director ever conceived, portentous cloud shots included!

Here's an interesting story I read shortly after watching this oddball experiment of a black comedy. The conceiver of this film, Doran William Cannon, had written the film during the 1960s while trying to make his name as a unique filmmaker during said time. Fast forward to the tail end of said decade and after a lot of hustling to get his project off the ground, it gets bought by new rising director Robert Altman who took the source material lightly and revamped it into his own version. What follows is Cannon publicly discussing his frustrations with his vision being changed against his wishes and the tough realization he had to encounter when giving your babies away to someone else.

Why am I bringing this up? Because this is one of the strangest experiments of a motion picture I've seen in quite some time, even after watching a few of Altman's 70s works following the death of Shelley Duvall (who made her screen debut here). Imagine trying to tell the story of a reclusive bird obsessed human who wishes to fly all the while becoming the chief suspect in a series of bird-related murders. There's no way you could take the premise to heart unless it were in someway tongue in cheek, and fortunately Altman elevates Cannon's material into a bizarrely surreal meta commentary on bird related activity and human compulsion, blending reality with surreality. This is accompanied by the editing which is as bombastic and jumbled as the intentionally scattered events we're witnessing on display.

The best way to describe Brewster McCloud is part dark comedy, part experimental mystery, part human reflection, part romantic ingenuity and part musical nightmare. Considering that well known record / film producer Lou Alder was behind this, as well as John Phillips of Mamas & Papas fame, some internal American music is laced underneath the film's surface and the numerous actors on screen. Bud Cort in particular is as adorably intriguing as he is disturbingly odd playing Brewster, and seeing notable Altman collaborators Sally Kellerman, Michael Murphy, John Schuck, Bert Remsen, Duvall and more act in ordinance with one another so naturally keeps the film grounded in a believable Houston setting while still keeping the pacing brisk and cluttered all at once.

In all honesty, I can't not recommend checking this film out at least once. Regardless of your tolerance for experimental oddities in film, there's something so innately imaginative about this bizarre concoction that must be seen in order to be believed. It's not everyday that a film about a human being with the obsession of flying getting caught up in a crimewave can be so inspiring for all the right and wrong reasons. Whether or not Cannon's original material was better or worse than Altman's version, this kind of work is unlike anything out there and anyone curious enough to check it out will be pleasantly surprised in more ways than one.

This movie is a million things at once. Some may find that as a bit of a turn-off, but then that's what a cult classic film is really about, isn't it?

Brewster McCloud is a reclusive boy who lives in the basement of the Houston Astrodome. He has a short job as chauffeur for a miserly old man. He is looked down upon for his meek appearance and his quiet manner. He dreams of building himself a set of wings and using those to fly away from all this suffering.

That's how the film starts, anyway. There are three basic stories in the movie: (1) Brewster McCloud's coming-of-age story, (2) the parallel metaphor of Brewster McCloud's dream of flying away from worldly sorrow, and (3) the murders of people who mistreat Brewster and who all die with raven droppings on their faces.

The real irony of this film is how the character of the Lecturer keeps pointing out similarities between the characters and certain birds, and yet the ending comes around, and we learn how unlike birds we are. There is so much information about birds, you wonder if this was an adult remake of an after-school special.

Overall, I'll have to use the word most of the other reviewers have used: quirky. There are things which are very different. There is the Pythonesque beginning where, as a woman sings the National Anthem and the credits roll, she stops, tells the band to try again in the right key, and the credits restart as well as the singing. There are small bits such as when a police officer holds up a lighter when his partner says there's only one way to know for sure if there's marijuana in a cigarette. And there is my favorite character, the Lecturer, who lectures the audience about the behavior of birds while he himself starts making strange noises and begins pecking at seeds...

Bud Cort is the title character, an eccentric oddball secretly living in the Houston Astrodome who believes he has figured out how to fly like a bird. He is protected by a guardian angel (Sally Kellerman) with clipped wings. He then becomes a suspect in a series of murders of people who are found strangled and covered in bird droppings.

An aggressively quirky counterculture time capsule, many modern viewers will be turned off by the bizarre story and outre characters. I happen to like it, and rank it among Altman's best. I enjoy the cast of weirdos, from Shelley Duvall (in her debut) as a stock-car driving tour guide who falls for McCloud, to Michael Murphy playing a San Francisco "supercop" named Shaft who sports turtlenecks and piercing blue eyes, to Margaret Hamilton as one of the murder victims who is found wearing ruby slippers. Stacy Keach is unrecognizable under heavy old age make-up, playing a miserly parody of Howard Hughes.

It's hard to talk about a film as unparalleled as Brewster McCloud. It creates its own world out of element from the world we know so well. It plays with everything, including its self-consciousness about being a movie. It weaves together many threads into a lovely, heart-breaking snapshot of a moment in America.

The situation: The world has gone mad. The wicked witch is wearing the Ruby slippers, and has become a beloved social icon. Who wouldn't want to fly away?

Enter Brewster McCloud, a young man who plans to do just that. He is hiding out in the basement of the Astrodome in Houston, working on building his wings. The kind you wear. Like Icarus did. His plan is all feeling, very focused, but doesn't take him past the immediate "How?" He is under the tutelage and protection of a sort of Bird-Goddess/Angel (played by Sally Kellerman) who walks around wearing absolutely nothing but a red plastic raincoat. When she takes it off, you can see the long, curving scars where her wings were removed. She also drives around in a small red car whose license-plate reads "BRDSHT".

Lest you think I've given away too much, let me assure you this barely scratches the surface. Who is responsible for the wave of mysterious murders? What of the presidential candidate who's all over town, is he an assassination target? What is the connection with the horny young girl (Shelly Duvall, in her first movie role - I believe she was discovered by Altman when he attended a party at her house during the location shoot in Houston) who comes to visit Brewster but can't ever really get his attention?

A wonderful, under-rated film worth seeing.