Watching Sidney Pollack's "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?", it is impossible not to think of reality shows and their piles of human souls desperate for success' shortcuts. Indeed, whenever there will be depression and desperation, such shows will exist. The only difference is that during the Great Depression, when Horace McCoy wrote the novel, there was no screen between the audience and the contestants, a thinner progress than the fact that, contrarily to Rome's gladiators, contestants didn't kill each other, though they seriously jeopardized their physical and mental health.
The film centers on a Dance Marathon, one of the 30's crazes, set in a West Coast ballroom, the concept is so vicious that you wonder why sensitive people would go to such extremes. From a 2010's standpoint, it makes sense as there's no difference between this and programs like "Survivor" or "Fear Factor", and no more between the charismatic Master of Ceremony, played by Gig Young and a TV host who displays hypocritical empathy toward contestants while developing new tricks to increase their suffering. Watching Young's Oscar-winning performance, we wonder whether we should despise his cynicism or enthusiastically respond to his repeated "Yowsa!"
Young embodies the bittersweet appeal reality TV shows, something that is part of human nature to which German language found a word for: 'shadenfreude'. When someone falls or fails, we're somewhat glad to be in the comfortable viewer's side. We don't like other people's successes, but any sight of a human being in a less favorable position is most welcome. That's how depressing a depression is, when we can't feel better for our own achievements, we do it by proxy, by enjoying someone's failure. Regarding the Dance Marathon, whoever will win the 1500 dollars prize will be less interesting than the dozens of delightful losers.
Take the character Alice, played by Susannah York, she's a young actress coming with her partner, together they expect to catch the eye of a director. Alice is like today's wannabe Cyrus or Kardashian who don't believe in bad publicity and think fame precedes artistic achievement. Later, Rocky reveals that he deliberately took her dresses and make-up, because she was spoiling the game by not looking messy and exhausted as she was supposed to be. He says about the audience that they "just want to see a little misery out there so they can feel a little better maybe." This revelation will come as a shock to Robert (Michael Sarrazin), an aspiring director who naively thought he was in a contest, rather than a show. Like in Ancient Rome, those who don't have 'bread and wine' make the 'circus' to the haves. Seriously, did he forget he was sponsored?
There are also two tragic characters: Kline, an aging sailor, played by wonderful character actor Red Buttons, the WWI veteran knows the marathon and teaches a few tricks to Robert. And there's a pregnant Okie farmer's wife played by unrecognizable Bonnie Bedelia (she was John McClane's wife in "Die Hard"), and entrusted with more than she can cope with, and nor her husband (Bruce Dern) or the doctors or Rocky think that she might endanger her kid's life or her own. The sight of this little heavy-loaded women forced to run that awful ten-minute derby is one of the most disturbing sights of the movie along with Kline's death, desperately dragged by Gloria Betty (Jane Fonda) till the finish line.
The power of Pollack's directing is to switch from the contestants' perspective to Rocky's (and his partner played by Al Lewis). For instance, you see the participants groaning at the derby's white lines being painted and then you see the puppet masters of this tragicomedy, and you wonder why these people who can leave at any time let their health and sanity being sucked out by these heartless bastards in tuxedos. The reason is simple: the two points of view never meet, except for Robert and Gloria. And all naturally, they leave the show. When Gloria learns that the winner will pay the expenses, that's too much to accept, she understands that "the whole world is like central casting. They got it all rigged before you ever show up."
As Gloria, Jane Fonda is the soul of the story, a perpetually malcontent woman whose participation was the last string on which to hang her faith on life. But while the film is mainly focused on Fonda, it starts with flashbacks from Robert's childhood - one involving a beautiful black stallion, falling and then mercilessly put out of his misery- and then it's punctuated with images of Robert being arrested and interrogated for what seems to be a murder. I thought that (accidentally) knowing Gloria would die, would spoil my enjoyment. As a matter of fact, from the title to the poster, and the arrest scenes, we understand that it's a matter of time before the contest finally get the most of her, and makes her death inevitable.
This is not depression as an Era, or as the disillusioned New Hollywood movies that provided the great unequaled masterpieces of American cinema, but plain and bleak 'state of mind' depression. It's like a feeling of psychological claustrophobia in an agoraphobia-inducing world, too many people and not enough souls to reach or reach yours. The ball-room, with all its flashiness and shiny floor, is the extraordinary metaphor of this Depression, however you define it. And Fonda conveys her sadness so convincingly that we no longer feel sorry for her when Robert pulls the trigger. As he says to the disbelieving cops: "they shoot horses, don't they?". Gloria didn't break her leg though, only her spirit, and that's something you can't recover from.
"They Shoot Horses, Don't They?"is one of the most depressing movies I saw, even more because it hasn't lost one ounce of relevance, proving that History keeps repeating itself, staged by the worst of human nature. What an exhausting depressing, haunting and unforgettable movie!
The film centers on a Dance Marathon, one of the 30's crazes, set in a West Coast ballroom, the concept is so vicious that you wonder why sensitive people would go to such extremes. From a 2010's standpoint, it makes sense as there's no difference between this and programs like "Survivor" or "Fear Factor", and no more between the charismatic Master of Ceremony, played by Gig Young and a TV host who displays hypocritical empathy toward contestants while developing new tricks to increase their suffering. Watching Young's Oscar-winning performance, we wonder whether we should despise his cynicism or enthusiastically respond to his repeated "Yowsa!"
Young embodies the bittersweet appeal reality TV shows, something that is part of human nature to which German language found a word for: 'shadenfreude'. When someone falls or fails, we're somewhat glad to be in the comfortable viewer's side. We don't like other people's successes, but any sight of a human being in a less favorable position is most welcome. That's how depressing a depression is, when we can't feel better for our own achievements, we do it by proxy, by enjoying someone's failure. Regarding the Dance Marathon, whoever will win the 1500 dollars prize will be less interesting than the dozens of delightful losers.
Take the character Alice, played by Susannah York, she's a young actress coming with her partner, together they expect to catch the eye of a director. Alice is like today's wannabe Cyrus or Kardashian who don't believe in bad publicity and think fame precedes artistic achievement. Later, Rocky reveals that he deliberately took her dresses and make-up, because she was spoiling the game by not looking messy and exhausted as she was supposed to be. He says about the audience that they "just want to see a little misery out there so they can feel a little better maybe." This revelation will come as a shock to Robert (Michael Sarrazin), an aspiring director who naively thought he was in a contest, rather than a show. Like in Ancient Rome, those who don't have 'bread and wine' make the 'circus' to the haves. Seriously, did he forget he was sponsored?
There are also two tragic characters: Kline, an aging sailor, played by wonderful character actor Red Buttons, the WWI veteran knows the marathon and teaches a few tricks to Robert. And there's a pregnant Okie farmer's wife played by unrecognizable Bonnie Bedelia (she was John McClane's wife in "Die Hard"), and entrusted with more than she can cope with, and nor her husband (Bruce Dern) or the doctors or Rocky think that she might endanger her kid's life or her own. The sight of this little heavy-loaded women forced to run that awful ten-minute derby is one of the most disturbing sights of the movie along with Kline's death, desperately dragged by Gloria Betty (Jane Fonda) till the finish line.
The power of Pollack's directing is to switch from the contestants' perspective to Rocky's (and his partner played by Al Lewis). For instance, you see the participants groaning at the derby's white lines being painted and then you see the puppet masters of this tragicomedy, and you wonder why these people who can leave at any time let their health and sanity being sucked out by these heartless bastards in tuxedos. The reason is simple: the two points of view never meet, except for Robert and Gloria. And all naturally, they leave the show. When Gloria learns that the winner will pay the expenses, that's too much to accept, she understands that "the whole world is like central casting. They got it all rigged before you ever show up."
As Gloria, Jane Fonda is the soul of the story, a perpetually malcontent woman whose participation was the last string on which to hang her faith on life. But while the film is mainly focused on Fonda, it starts with flashbacks from Robert's childhood - one involving a beautiful black stallion, falling and then mercilessly put out of his misery- and then it's punctuated with images of Robert being arrested and interrogated for what seems to be a murder. I thought that (accidentally) knowing Gloria would die, would spoil my enjoyment. As a matter of fact, from the title to the poster, and the arrest scenes, we understand that it's a matter of time before the contest finally get the most of her, and makes her death inevitable.
This is not depression as an Era, or as the disillusioned New Hollywood movies that provided the great unequaled masterpieces of American cinema, but plain and bleak 'state of mind' depression. It's like a feeling of psychological claustrophobia in an agoraphobia-inducing world, too many people and not enough souls to reach or reach yours. The ball-room, with all its flashiness and shiny floor, is the extraordinary metaphor of this Depression, however you define it. And Fonda conveys her sadness so convincingly that we no longer feel sorry for her when Robert pulls the trigger. As he says to the disbelieving cops: "they shoot horses, don't they?". Gloria didn't break her leg though, only her spirit, and that's something you can't recover from.
"They Shoot Horses, Don't They?"is one of the most depressing movies I saw, even more because it hasn't lost one ounce of relevance, proving that History keeps repeating itself, staged by the worst of human nature. What an exhausting depressing, haunting and unforgettable movie!