When
the title characters in 1967's Bonnie And Clyde first lay eyes on each other, they
smile in what seems like immediate recognition. They both consider themselves
exceptional people bound for glory, and they're each pleased to encounter a
kindred egotistical soul who's ready to act as an admiring mirror and enabler.
Within seconds of that first encounter, they've already formed the mutual
admiration society that will lead them through years of crimes, and straight to
the grave.
Granted,
Bonnie (Faye Dunaway) is stark naked, and Clyde (Warren Beatty) is trying to
steal her mother's car, so they each have an extra reason for wry amusement.
But the easygoing charm of that first meeting summarizes what made Arthur
Penn's Bonnie And Clyde so controversial upon its release, and what still makes it memorable
today. Forty years ago, charming, likeable, fun criminals were a licentious
shocker; today, they're old hat, but Bonnie And Clyde still maintains its amiable
charisma.
Bonnie
And Clyde was the Natural
Born Killers of the
'60s, criticized as too violent, too campy, and above all, too affectionate
toward its reprehensible protagonists, based on real-life bank robbers Bonnie
Parker and Clyde Barrow. It was simultaneously praised as stylish and modern,
leading the American charge toward the French New Wave with its swerves between
existential angst and comedy, and its pugnacious, fast-cut editing. Mixed
critical and public reaction aside, younger audiences embraced the film, for
obvious reasons: It was about being young, beautiful, in love, and outside
established societal rules, and about going out in a blaze of glory.
Bonnie
And Clyde is
crammed with historical inaccuracies, as an informative but tedious History
Channel mini-doc on the new two-disc DVD reveals, but it was never about
historicity. It's about Dunaway and Beatty as excitable thrill-seekers, robbing
banks, squabbling with their gang, and basking in their own sweet mythos as
they were making it. Much like Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid two years later, it now comes
across as a little ramshackle in its attempts to merge American and French
cinematic innovations into something fresh, but the playful performances
haven't aged, and it still finds all the carefree thrills of being young, dumb,
in love with life, and ready for death.
Key
features: Two short
but significant deleted scenes, shot in brilliant color but with no sound;
regrettably audio-free Beatty screen tests; a making-of featurette.