The Tenant (1976)

The third in a loose trilogy (along with Repulsion and Rosemary's Baby) linked by themes of urban living, paranoia, and mental decay, The Tenant is one of Roman Polanski’s most personal works. Although bearing some stylistic and thematic similarities to those other two films, it is strikingly different, not least because, by casting himself in the lead, Polanski offers us a troubling journey into his mind.

Trelkovsky (Roman Polanski), a shy man who works as a bureaucrat, takes an apartment in Paris, not knowing the previous tenant, a lady called Simone Choule, tried to commit suicide by throwing herself out the window. Although he is happy at first, the concierge (Shelley Winters), the tough landlord Mr Zy, and the oddly behaved neighbours, all start to get to him. Is he slowly losing his mind? Or, do they want him to go the same way as Simone?

Coming after Chinatown, an American film with American stars, The Tenant feels like a deliberate decision by Polanski to get back to his lower budget, European roots. Pretty much the whole film is seen through the eyes of Trelkovsky, using the classic device of the “unreliable narrator”, and starts in a fairly straightforward, even low key fashion, playing many of the scenes for laughs, albeit sometimes uncomfortable ones (and showcasing Polanski’s skill as a comic actor). However, as the tone gradually turns increasingly dark, surreal and paranoid, the plot twists and camera angles grow ever more disorientating.  The bleak world created is one where the weak will always be harassed and bullied by those stronger than them, or worse, those just as weak as they are, and the other characters are largely grotesque caricatures, in keeping with the nightmarish and darkly comic feel.

The casting by Polanski of himself in the lead role is one of the most interesting aspects of The Tenant, and there are a few reasons that I can think of as to why would have done this. First, is narcissism, and why not, as at the time he certainly had a reputation as an egomaniac. Secondly it may have been for practical reasons, as, working without Hollywood dollars, why not save some cash on stars salaries? Thirdly, as well as an egomaniac, he also had a reputation as a control freak, and after his well-publicised run-ins with Faye Dunaway on Chinatown, perhaps he wants a lead actor he can easily exert some control over.

However, what if it was done as a deliberate artistic decision?  This would make the film an intensely personal vision of his own paranoia and persecution complex, inviting us in to share it, as opposed to Repulsion, where he is inviting us to watch someone else, from a distance. It comes from the period after the murder of his wife Sharon Tate and their unborn baby at the hands of the Manson Family, and just before fleeing the US and possible jail time for sexually assaulting a 13 year old girl, so there would be no shortage of dark things going on in his head.

The "twist" ending is the only real disappointment in The Tenant, and anyone who has seen a few episodes of The Twilight Zone or Tales of The Unexpected will see it coming. Aside from that, this is a disturbing vision of hell, a hell created by oneself as much as by other people.

Napoli Violenta (1976)

Sometimes, extreme circumstances require extreme responses, and they do not come much more extreme than those used by the hero of Napoli Violenta, an action packed Italian crime flick, or “Poliziotteschi” from the 70s. What the film lacks in subtlety, characterisation or morality, it more than makes up for with outrageous violence, a protagonist who seems at times to be as unhinged as the villains, and some audacious directorial touches.

No nonsense cop Inspector Betti (played by genre favourite Maurizio Merli) is transferred to Naples, and immediately sets about confronting crime and corruption in his own two fisted manner. Soon his violent tactics are making as many enemies in the police as in the criminal underworld - will it be just a matter of time before one side puts him out of action?

The Italian exploitation film business in the 70s and 80s usually followed a standard approach, no matter what the genre. Enterprising producers would spot a Hollywood hit, appropriate some of the stylistic and thematic elements, (and often shift the action from America to Italy), hire a competent journeyman director, willing to turn his hand to anything, and make something cheap and quick to cash in. In this case, Umberto Lenzi was behind the camera, a man who had already made Westerns, Comic Book adaptations, Giallo, Sword-and-Sandal, and Spy films, and would later achieve a degree of notoriety when Cannibal Ferox turned up on the British Governments “Video Nasty” list in the 1980s.

Napoli Violenta clearly has its roots in the Dirty Harry series of films, with a violent, unflappable, borderline psychotic anti-hero (not five minutes in and he is beating up a car thief), as much at war with his superiors as with the criminals. The script juggles several plot strands, with protection rackets, thieves, a crafty bank robber and the mob all vying for attention, meaning there is rarely a dull moment. Betti is a man defined by his actions, the sort of guy who will shoot first, hit second, and maybe ask questions later, if the suspect is still alive. He is occasionally given to moments of regret - when one crook fatally impales himself on a spike, Betti certainly looks regretful - regretful that he did not do the job himself. The lurid violence is could perhaps be seen as a forerunner of Lenzi’s later efforts in the horror genre, but here it is more lively and “comic book” in tone, and certainly less grim and depressing than the likes of Cannibal Ferox.

With his big hair, big moustache and macho attitude, Betti is the epitome of 1970s masculinity, and while the character is a little one dimensional, Merli has more than enough charisma, even with the ropey dubbing, to hold your attention. The ever-reliable John Saxon makes the most of his small role, but the rest of the cast are competent without being memorable, meaning that apart from Merli and Saxon, it is the outrageous action and violence that gives the film life and energy. 

One aspect that sets Napoli Violenta apart from many others of the same era and genre is the occasionally inspired directorial flourishes, most notably during the chase sequences. I get the impression that rather than spend a lot of time and money on the correct paperwork, Lenzi, like Betti, just decided to take whatever action is necessary to achieve a result. So, as motorcycles race through the streets of Naples, we follow the action on the bikes via hand-held cameras, watching what looks like real people dive for cover, making for heart stopping viewing, and giving a feel of genuine guerrilla film making.

The picture painted of Naples is that of a dense, chaotic and vicious city, where the creed is kill or be killed, and anyone showing weakness is doomed. This is something that Inspector Betti understands, as do his superiors, and the police chief is happy to ignore what Betti gets up to, if it gets results. By making the champion of law and order a violent man with no regard for due process of law, a vigilante with badge, the director skirts close to almost celebrating an authoritarian outlook. This is not something that is really sustained throughout the film through any other references or symbolism however, and it should be remembered that this film came out during the height of a period known as The Years of Lead, a time where politically motivated violence, kidnappings and assassinations were rife. However, none of the crime in this film is political, so perhaps it is more a case of giving contemporary audiences clearly defined roles of hero and villain, and providing them with the escapism of seeing an incorruptible John Wayne style hero prevail.

All This and World War II (1976)

All This and World War 2 proves, as a famous man once said, that there is a fine line between clever and stupid. No matter how clever the idea of cutting newsreel and movie footage from the 30s and 40s with the music of the Beatles (not the originals, but covers by stars of the 70s such as The Bee Gees and Leo Sayer) may sound on paper, the end result is very, very stupid.

The main problem is that the choice of songs is rarely either appropriate or very imaginative for the footage, and by limiting herself to Beatles tracks, director Susan Winslow has to shoehorn something in, regardless of relevance. Good taste does not really come into it, which is why in the first two minutes, we see scenes of Hitler visiting his forces, and soldiers marching around doing soldier things, all set to "Magical Mystery Tour" (complete with a Nazi brass band "playing" along). While I am sure there was uncertainty and trepidation around the world as to how the war would turn out, are they seriously comparing the outbreak of war with a "Magical Mystery Tour"?

Even a relatively downbeat pop song such as “Help”, seems crass compared to what we are shown of the individual heroism of soldiers or the wider struggle of the UK's attempts to get the USA involved. Sometimes the juxtapositions are not inappropriate, or silly, but crashingly obvious, with Hitler gazing wistfully from atop his Bavarian mountain retreat, while “The Fool on the Hill” plays in the background, or “Getting Better” while things are, well, getting better for the Allies. Most of the time though the musical choices are just pointless and inexplicable, such as “Polythene Pam” playing behind scenes of people trying on Gas Masks, “Maxwell's Silver Hammer” for scenes of men signing up for the Draft, and, most bafflingly of all, the bombing of Pearl Harbour set to “I am The Walrus”.

The simple fact is that much of this footage does not need any musical accompaniment, being dramatic, chilling or moving enough on its own. It certainly does not need these versions of the songs, none of which improve on the originals, and many of which manage to suck any life and emotion out of the original and replace it with dullness or phoney overwrought schmaltz, which jars terribly against real images of heartbreak and sacrifice.

Rather than just stringing together footage at random, director Susan Winslow does try to create a narrative arc, stretching from Chamberlain and his talk of appeasement, right up to the birth of the atomic bomb. Unfortunately, World War 2 is just too complex a thing to boil down into 80 minutes, without skimming over or trivialising many of the aspects of it. A perfect example is the issue of race in the armed forces. We see footage of white troops training, followed shortly by footage of black troops training separately, implying that among the forces fighting a racist ideology there was an element of segregation and racism. However, later we see a montage of Allied troops (an African-American, an Irishman, a Sikh, a Pole, and a Frenchman), proudly announcing where they are from. So are they saying there was no racism? Alternatively, is it more complicated than that? This is a subject worthy of a documentary of its own, but here, it is shown and quickly discarded as the narrative marches remorselessly onwards to the next event, without giving any further explanation or context.

This leads me to wonder what the point of All This and World War II is. It is a documentary but it has no message or point of view, and a distinctive gimmick, but no substance. The skimming over or avoiding of themes and events means, unless anyone is unaware who won the war, it is useless as an educational tool. If the Beatles and World War 2 mix is meant as a joke, it is a five-minute joke stretched over 80. In addition, despite some occasional lapses in good taste, it stops short of being truly offensive, so does not even pass muster as a work of pure provocation.

God Told Me To (1976)

In New York City, a sniper opens fire on a dozen innocent victims; a police officer at the St Patrick's Day Parade guns down both members of the public and his colleagues; and in an apartment, a man calmly tells officers how he murdered his wife and young children. The thing that links all of these events is that each one of the perpetrators claims, "God told me to do it". With a premise like that what could possibly go wrong? Well, unfortunately, plenty, with writer/director Larry Cohen suffering an inability to develop a great idea into a fully fleshed out story.

"God Told Me To" was released in 1976, when the book "Chariot of the Gods?" was all the rage, and author Erich von Daniken theorising that many of the religious beliefs and ancient technological advances on planet Earth may have extra-terrestrial origins. Cohen throws plenty of similar ideas into the mixture, as he tries to link UFO abductions, virgin births, mind control, biblical sacrifice, and messianic androgynous aliens, but fails to tie them up into a completely coherent whole.

Given that the murders and their investigation are initially introduced as the factor driving the plot of the film, it is baffling how they are eventually forgotten about, and the reasons behind them never adequately explained. Vague allusions are made to the Biblical story of Abraham being asked to sacrifice his son Isaac, and a possible link to the modern day God (or in this case, what appears to be some sort of malevolent extra-terrestrial being that his followers mistake for God) testing his followers by asking them to do terrible things. However, this does not really work in the context of the film, as, according to the book of Genesis, God also intervened at the last minute to save Isaac, and Abraham did not subsequently kill himself.

A couple of the individual scenes are memorable, with the St Patrick’s Day Parade shot with lots of shaky handheld camera work, giving a chaotic feel that mirrors the panic of the crowd. By contrast the interview with the man who has gunned down his family (an act we never actually see) is all the more creepy for the low key approach taken, as he coolly describes what happened, and justifies it with a beatific look on his face and a blissful tone to his voice.

However, these scenes, along with the other elements of the story, such as the mysterious long haired man and his seemingly virgin mother, are presented as though they are pieces of a puzzle that will ultimately add up to an answer, however obtuse, bizarre or vague, something which frustratingly never happens. Instead of resolving plot strands, Cohen opts instead for adding more and more, which does mean the constant flow of off-the-wall ideas and situations just about sustains interest until the end - just do not expect to have worked out what any of it was ultimately about or may have been trying to say.