Two Guys on Paul Schrader – Column

Paul Schrader

Two Guys on Paul Schrader

by Adam Haynes and Everett Stillwell

Affliction ends and I work my way out of the Beverly Hills Laemmle Music Hall theater, noting the smug looks of content disgust that surround me. Outside on Wilshire Boulevard I run into the somewhat demented, sometimes self-proclaimed film prophet, Everett Stillwell. Tonight he’s wearing clean clothes and looks bathed, which means he must be taking his medication again. Still feeling jazzed from the movie, I decide to strike up a conversation.

A.H.: So, let’s talk about Paul Schrader.

E.S.: To understand Paul Schrader you have to understand Martin Scorsese.

A.H.: What do you mean?

E.S.: For many people, it’s just about Martin Scorsese and there’s nothing really to be done with that… And it makes sense; Scorsese is loud and colorful and approaches complicated gritty subjects with a simple-minded hand.

A.H.: He’s very commercial.

E.S.: And he’s always been very commercial. Now, there’s nothing wrong with this except that there’s also this misinformation that Scorsese is a great director – I’m not sure who is responsible for this more, Scorsese himself with his relentless media campaigning, or the media itself for finding such an agreeable subject with so many smoothed, curved edges. Ultimately, finding specific blame becomes academic and therefore irrelevant. The fact is, however, that Scorsese is great at directing, but not a great director. Have I lost you yet?

A.H.: I’m not sure.

E.S.: How about this: think about the BIG THREE. I’m not talking about your personal favorites, so don’t get cute and bring up The Last Waltz (which is easily destroyed by anything D.A. Pennebaker ever touched, by the way) or the first segment of New York Stories, because at this moment we’re in the public’s collective coliseum, not yours, and as we all know, despite a film career which began some time in the sixties and continues to continue with more and more the grace and sophistication of a hand crank diesel, there are only three films by Scorsese the public pays any attention to with any sort of real enthusiasm, confusion, and dread:Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and Goodfellas. Yes, Mean Streets, and perhaps even Last Temptation of Christ are soon to follow, but the aforementioned remain the trinity – THE BIG THREE – upon which Scorsese’s reputation is perennially buffed and defended.

A.H.: Cool.

E.S.: Alright, so we’ve figured out that there are indeed the BIG THREE, and we also understand that I am putting forth the truism that Scorsese is an overrated director. How am I going to put them together? Simple, when reviewing the three I have mentioned, one thing becomes obvious immediately: Goodfellas has nowhere near the depth of the other two. Goodfellas is a loud, flashy, in-your-face adventure about what it’s like to be a mobster. It’s been said before, but the simple truth remains, this film is about the director over everything else. And if the end point of the piece of art is merely the starting point, then one thing becomes amazingly clear: you’re not watching art, baby.

A.H.: I’m not sure if that makes any sense.

E.S.: (totally ignoring me) Now here’s the scoop on the other two of the BIG THREE : they’re both written by Paul Schrader.

A.H.: Paul Schrader is a great director.

E.S.: Yes and no. Look at one of his early films, like Hardcore.

A.H.: Yeah, okay, that was way preachy and had flat characters, but you know, I really like how he handles violence. Like at the end of Hardcore, when George C. Scott is chasing that skinny little pimp through the S&M; house and busting through all those cardboard walls, it’s all handled so coldly and the creepy music is great.

E.S.: You’re right, and for many years, violence was the only thing he had going for him, the only way he could really flesh out who his characters were. Violence was the only thing that saved Cat People and it was also the reason American Gigolo was so flaccid – because there wasn’t enough in it. Our man definitely writes intense, thoughtful scripts, but at the same time, they’re all so boring and mathematical. Scorsese made Taxi Driver and Raging Bull sing so well because he gave the scripts a much-needed coating of B.O.

A.H.: But then Schrader stopped doing coke…

E.S.: Yes, something happened and it was like his movies suddenly had another dimension to them. Suddenly there was style. Of course, with Light Of Day you didn’t need style – you had Michael J. Fox and Joan Jett – but then there’s also Mishima.

A.H.: A great movie, a beautiful movie. I had no idea what was going on and yet I couldn’t fall asleep.

E.S.: An important movie too, because now Schrader wasn’t giving a shit, he was just indulging in his bad-self, which is exactly what his anal material had been lacking before. Emotions are now drifting into the pictures, the violence is becoming more graceful, less urgent and stressed out, which in turn fleshes the pictures out more.

A.H.: I’m thinking The Comfort of Strangers.

E.S.: Christopher Walken’s last great screen role.

A.H.: Which, jumping over Patty Hearst, brings us to Light Sleeper.

E.S.: This is a crucial film for Schrader because in it he’s finally come full circle – he’s back to the same old story of a man who’s forced by his environment to change or die via violent catharsis, only now Schrader understands how to direct. Light Sleeper is a none-too-subtle retelling of Taxi Driver, only now with all the style and class and artistic restraint Scorsese couldn’t bring to the picture – and can’t bring to any of his pictures.

A.H.: You really think Scorsese’s overrated don’t you?

E.S.: Don’t even get me started, kid.

A.H.: Let’s get back on track. Wasn’t Nick Nolte amazing in Affliction?

E.S.: He’s somehow able to have all the sloppiness of real life cooch while maintaining a leading man’s glamour and dignity. Ever since The Prince Of Tides it was clear to me that this is an actor who isn’t afraid to embody all that baby boomer New Age nonsense sincerely. Afterglow proved to me that what he’d done in Prince of Tides was fantastic acting. Affliction proves that he keeps getting stronger, more refined.

A.H.: I think he needs to do a science fiction film next.

E.S.: Of course he does, something really technically accurate, that’s the only direction he can go in. In Affliction, he’s taken the ugly core of what’s been haunting him for years: the good-looking slob who’s worthless and out of control, and effectively broken him down so that it’s no longer an issue. The future is where his future lies.

A.H.: So if Light Sleeper is a turning point for Schrader, what do you make of Affliction?

E.S.: Sublime. Affliction is what you get when there’s perfect harmony between all the elements of film – between the directing, the writing, the cinematography, the set design, the editing, the acting… all of it. It’s a solidly built house. Like Light Sleeper, its another spin on his Taxi Driver myth, which is the story that runs thematically to some degree throughout all his movies. I get the feeling that at this point, for right now, Schrader realizes this is the story he needs most to tell and he’ll continue to tell it, to further redefine and tweak it until he gets it out of his system. And if the rest are as good as Affliction, I’ve got no problem with that at all, for they’ll continue to get under my skin in a way that’s invisible, in a way that’s beyond entertainment, in a way where I’ll find myself thinking about parts of the movie long after I’ve watched it, even though I wasn’t trying to. Paul Schrader is an artist, fuck Martin Scorsese. Know what I’m saying?

A.H.: I think I’m with you now, I think I’ve got it.

E.S.: Good.