A
film review by James Berardinelli for ReelViews.net in 1999.
Sexual
chemistry - that's what it's all about. Despite a competent caper plot and some
interesting visual flourishes by director Norman
Jewison, the real attraction of The
Thomas Crown Affair is the relationship between Steve McQueen's title character and Faye Dunaway's Vicky Anderson. These two steam up the screen
without revealing much flesh; when they're together, it's almost impossible to
remember that the film purports to be about a masterfully executed, daring
daylight bank robbery. And, while it's unfair to claim that no one really cares
about that aspect of the production, once McQueen and Dunaway start their
mating dance, it's undoubtedly a secondary concern.
The
casting of McQueen and Dunaway was an inspired, if unorthodox, choice. At the
time of filming in 1967, McQueen was at the top of his career, having already
appeared in a pair of action-oriented classics, The Magnificent Seven and The
Great Escape. Despite being cast against type, McQueen's matinee good looks
and cool demeanor enabled him to get by as a suave, well dressed, highly
educated criminal mastermind (part his success in the role can be attributed to
the director, who kept urging McQueen to play the part like Cary Grant).
Dunaway was relatively new to the screen, but, bolstered by her work in her
debut feature, Bonnie and Clyde, she
became Jewison's first choice. In both looks and acting, Dunaway matched
McQueen - icy, serene, and stunning to gaze at. Neither gives a career
performance here (in fact, both have moments of awkwardness), but the way they
connect more than makes up for any acting deficiencies.
Everything
in The Thomas Crown Affair is a game,
from the way the characters interact with each other to the way the director
toys with the audience. As far as crime caper films go, this one has a
relatively lighthearted tone, at least up until the end when an expected
betrayal and a surprise twist leaves the viewer with a bittersweet taste.
Jewison has described the movie as possessing a European flavor and admits to
having been influenced by the French New Wave. Nowhere is this more obvious
than during the last scene. (It's worth noting that 30 years and dozens of
caper films later, the closing twist isn't nearly as startling as it once was,
but it still makes for an effective conclusion.)
Thomas
Crown is one of Boston's wealthiest citizens, yet he has a passion for crime.
He masterminds an audacious and meticulously plotted bank robbery not because
he needs the money, but because he delights in attacking the establishment. For
Thomas, beating the authorities is a game, and the cash is just the tangible
proof that he won. For this heist, he has recruited seven men who don't know
each other, given them precise instructions, then waited to pick up the money.
Things go without a hitch, and Thomas is $2,660,527 richer (less the cuts he
pays to his hired hands). But the bank's insurance company isn't willing to
swallow the bill without a thorough investigation, so they put their best
agent, Vicky Anderson, on the case. She joins Boston Police Detective Eddy
Malone (Paul Burke), who is already
hard at work tracking down leads. Vicky decides to toy with Thomas, meeting
him, letting him know who she is and what she's after, and attempting to trick
him into making a mistake. But Thomas, aware of what she's up to, calculates
his every move. The attraction between them proves to be too much to resist and
they end up doing the most unwise thing either could imagine: falling in love.
There
is suspense in The Thomas Crown Affair,
especially in relation to the question of whether Vicky will turn in Thomas,
but it takes a back seat to the romantic tension, which Jewison wisely elevates
to the boiling point during an unforgettable chess match filled with long
glances, lingering close-ups, and obvious sexual imagery. (For example, Vicky
can be seen stroking the head of a bishop while contemplating a move.) That
scene - six and one-half minutes with only three brief lines of dialogue - ends
in a 70 second kiss that dissolves into a blur of colors. It is one of cinema's
most intensely erotic moments, due in large part to Jewison's directing,
McQueen and Dunaway's silent acting, Hal
Ashby's editing, and Michel Legrand's
memorable score (Legrand, who wrote the music for The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, almost tops his work for that film
here).
The
film is structured in layers, with games built upon games. Vicky refers to this
overtly on one occasion, noting that Thomas has won round three, but, for the most part, their victories and losses are
unspoken. And we're never sure who the cat is, and who the mouse is. Thomas is
playing against everyone --Vicky, the Boston Police, and himself. Vicky's game
offers a more personal risk, because there's no way she can win. By defeating
Thomas, she loses him. But, for her, surrender is not an option. There are few
scenes during The Thomas Crown Affair
when the characters let down their guard. Only when they're on the beach,
racing across the sand in Thomas' dune buggy, do they appear completely at
ease. For the audience, the heist scenes gain an extra level of tension because
of our personal investment in the relationship. These characters are amoral,
but we recognize they were made for each other, and hope that, somehow, they
can end up together.
Jewison
has described The Thomas Crown Affair
as a victory of style over substance,
and, in many ways, he's right. The script (by first-time screenwriter Alan R. Trustman, a former Boston
lawyer) is light on dialogue, allowing Jewison and his cinematographer, veteran
Haskell Wexler (with whom he had
worked on his previous feature, In the
Heat of the Night), to use a variety of sites and approaches to develop a
powerful sense of atmosphere. Wexler experiments throughout The Thomas Crown Affair, turning in
several unique and memorable shots. On one occasion, we see a character's face
through a series of empty phone booths that makes it appear as if he's in a
glass tunnel. During the initial crime, one of the robbers throws a flare and
the camera skates behind it as it slides across the floor, trailing red smoke.
Wexler also makes frequent use of reflections in mirrors and glass.
Perhaps
the most innovative aspect of The Thomas Crown
Affair is the use of multiple screens during the heist sequence. On several
occasions, as many as six or seven separate images appear on the screen at the
same time, each showing a different character. It's an effective way of
cramming a lot of information into one frame, and, since it is used sparingly,
it's unlikely to confuse the average viewer. Jewison has stated that he was
compelled to use this technique after viewing Christopher Chapman's 17-minute
short, A Place to Stand.
However,
while style may be an important aspect of The
Thomas Crown Affair, the real reason we're drawn into this deliciously
decadent world is the mesmerizing chemistry that smolders between McQueen and
Dunaway. Those who search for a recent example of this kind of interaction need
look no further than Out of Sight,
which developed a similar dynamic between George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez. The Thomas Crown Affair is a rare motion
picture where the plot works just well enough to allow us to enjoy the character
interplay without being distracted by obvious gaffes and logical errors. [Berardinelli’s
rating: 3.5 out of 4 stars = 87.5/100]
Blogger’s
comment: Steve McQueen was born in 1930, so he was 37 when this film was shot
in 1967, although he looks ten years older. Thirteen years later, at the age of
fifty, McQueen died of cancer in Juarez, Mexico in 1980.
I
much prefer the 1999 remake with Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo, which is a
stronger film in both style and substance. My only criticism with the remake is
that the act of stealing the painting and folding it into a briefcase would
have split the wooden frame, damaging and possibly destroying the painting.
Labels:
crime, drama, romance, Sixties, thriller
Berardinelli's original review
