Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967)

I have recently watched "Bonnie and Clyde" after much enthusiasm from my mum, and I found it a rare film, of an unusual beauty from beginning to end. The first sequence, of which I have luckily found a video I can share with you, immediately took me into the claustrophobic world of our protagonist. Faye Dunaway plays Bonnie, a waitress from a provincial town who always knew she was meant for something more. The perfect chance to escape the mundane appears one morning at her window:

I'm sure most of you are familiar with the story, both fictional and real, of the couple of criminals made up by Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow. Clyde (Warren Beatty) was already an outlaw when they met, and she didn't hesitate to join him on a ride that promised her much more than a routine of selling burgers and beer. She wanted the thrill, and they both felt the calling to disrespect a set of established rules that they didn't see as their own. Two wild people who scandalised the whole country, heroic in a way because they never took from the poor. "We are Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, and we steal banks". With such a motto, it couldn't be long till the newspapers made them big. There is a scene in which a group of field workers offers them food and water because they recognise them. They were criminal celebrities —what a paradox, or not so much?—, but what interests me is the deeper story, their very own relationship: Clyde, a very anxious young man, insecure, unable to have sex, directing his rage towards strangers, murdering people; Bonnie, brutally honest, impatient, demanding, effortlessly elegant not only visually, but in her speech. They seem to be always drifting together, driving helplessly towards a black hole. To me, Clyde's brother and his wife are just witnesses to their talent and, often, a nuisance to them, very much like the characters of Cathy Manchester and her husband in "Two for the Road" —another masterpiece, by the way!—. 

I must admit that I have a weakness for the period of decadence that The Great Depression constituted. The literature and films that sprouted from it are often the most heartfelt, full of dark irony and often, aiming to the heart of the matter. There is also something poetic to the emptiness, the dusty roads, the farmers who were turned to nomads overnight. The changes for the working class always occur in the dark, too quickly for them to spot, too late to react, they just sweep them as another inevitable consequence. There is a strange beauty to seeing the system collapse, to witnessing the fragility that we conceal in times of wealth. It was a time of chaos, of anarchy for the ones who were ready: while the massive theatre that put on the cruellest plays was still under refurbishment. It was the perfect time for a couple to own the world like Bonnie and Clyde did. Their games of power,  surpassing all limits —for instance, there is a scene where they invite a rich couple-to-be fora ride in their own car they have just stolen—, were the perfect antidote to the painful stillness of the crisis.

The photography by Burnet Guffey is strikingly beautiful, so innovative even for today. The framings, like the one seen above, were very unconventional; they could well be photographs on their own. Furthermore, they "make sense", they are never forced, far from the purely provocative avant-garde. Both the director and the producer, who was Beatty himself, wanted the film to be as realistic as possible. They even shot in the locations where the couple they depicted had committed their crimes. The camerawork, consequently, is there to accompany the actors, and excessive movement is avoided. There is no showing-off here, there is just talent.

For those who love the French New Wave, I would like to mention that this project began in Paris, precisely in a conversation between Warren Beatty and Truffaut, who got him interested in the first place. Godard was also involved, it seems, but the actor and producer decided that the screenplay had to be written by an American in order to be truthful to the context of the story, where he saw a huge potential. Romance, crime, tragedy. I do still think that a French touch remained, as I couldn't help but compare the impulsiveness of the beginning to "Pierrot Le Fou" and other films alike whose characters have a tiredness, mixed with a joie-de-vivre, that makes them follow reckless, destructive paths.

Underneath, on a more positive note, the couple's continuous ridiculing of the authorities takes the shape of a photograph with a sheriff receiving a kiss from Bonnie. Mocking the law is a dangerous pastime that secured them a spectacularly violent ending, much foreseeable by the audience and the character's themselves. However, both the original and the fictional couple stayed in the public memory, and many would surely have joined them in their deadly ride if given the chance. For the less adventurous ones, the film is waiting in your dusty shelf, go grab it! ⧫⧫⧫⧫/⧫⧫⧫⧫⧫