For years after the
release of Billy Hayes' book Midnight Express, and especially after the
film version directed by Alan Parker, the term "Turkish prison" became a
shorthand punchline for hell on earth. Attempting to smuggle hashish out of the
country, Hayes was arrested by Turkish police searching for terrorists. Sentenced
to a relatively lenient four years and a few months, Hayes served most of his
time, only to see the sentence converted to life by a higher court, prompting
him to make a break for the Greek border and tell the world his hellish tale.
Parker and a young
screenwriter named Oliver Stone were among those listening, and with the 1978
film version, they converted Hayes' story into an exploitative yet meditative
film. Brad Davis plays Hayes as a naïve American tourist unprepared for the
consequences of his crime. Thrown into prison, he bonds with a few of his
fellow prisoners, which isn't enough to stop the place from slowly leeching his
humanity away.
Cued by Giorgio Moroder's
excellent, though not exactly timeless, synth score, Parker's gauzy direction uses
the stylish play of light and shadow that Ridley Scott would soon perfect;
there's a lot of the coming decade in this '70s film. The neutral tone nicely
offsets the extreme material, and the cast—which includes a drugged-out
John Hurt and a hotheaded Randy Quaid—does excellent work. Davis has a
heart-wrenching late scene that's almost too raw to watch, as a reunion with
his girlfriend reduces him to a sobbing, masturbating mess.
But Midnight Express is at war with itself.
Strong when it focuses on the psychological toll of prison, it falls apart when
it turns the focus elsewhere, and its depictions of all Turks as swarthy,
corrupt, and sadistic is pretty inexcusable, leading Stone and Hayes to
apologize in later years. (Sample dialogue: "For a nation of pigs, it sure is
funny that you don't eat 'em.") And it flinches in some unexpected places.
After a long buildup and an erotically staged, romantically scored shower
scene, Davis firmly rebuffs the advances of a Swedish friend. He, and the
audience, can handle the torture, sure. But not that.
Key features: A solid making-of
documentary joins Parker's thorough commentary and surprisingly entertaining
making-of booklet. A sample: "[John Hurt's] decision not to bathe for six weeks
made him less than popular."