We almost exclusively champion films at Outsider but that’s not to say we wear rose-tinted glasses and are incapable of criticism. We also receive discs for review of films that we are unfamiliar with and it is the greatest pleasure to sit in front of a film and after its first five minutes, know (not think but know) that you are in the presence of a vastly under-appreciated work of genuine cinematic art. I used to sincerely believe that the greatest anti-racist film was (no laughing at the back) Blazing Saddles. The 70’s comedy western’s mockery of the colossal stupidity of racists stood proud to me as a way to consistently deliver a liberal message and entertaining the hell out of its audience while it’s doing so. And then fifty years later, I saw The Landlord.

The Oscar winning film editor, for 1967’s In The Heat of the Night, Hal Ashby, went on to direct a string of films that all came from a creative and sensitive, culturally aware mind that spoke to me profoundly. I’ve already reviewed personal favourites of Ashby’s work on the site, Harold and Maude and The Last Detail. Ashby, time and time again, has revealed his humanistic credentials through a series of extraordinary movies. I had no idea until this morning that whatever magical properties made ‘A Hal Ashby Film’ were profoundly embedded in his debut feature, The Landlord. I used to think Ridley Scott movies were layered. But that may be in the design sense (much appreciated) rather than the percolation and cross-fertilisation of ideas sense. It’s almost as if Ashby was given this opportunity and thinking it may be his one and only shot, suffused it with a level of nuance and richness that filmmakers today could only touch the hem of. The shock of the new and the cinematically exquisite is (count them) 54 years old! Making notes on just the first five minutes of The Landlord took about 20… Pause, (scribble). Pause, (scribble) etc. There was so much thought and care taken to cinematically prepare you for what was to come. If an unusual editing style is employed to jolt you out of what you are used to, the normal response is for that incongruous intercutting to cease so we can have a scene of two people talking to each other so we know where we are.  But the craft of the intercutting holds the meaning and intent of what Ashby is cinematising. And I thought I just made up that word. Ashby (with the wisdom of hiring editors excluding himself) has exported his editing sensitivity into a directorial craft. He allows other creative cutters to expand upon his style and complement it in such a way that a film made over half a century ago has an experimental editorial élan and grace that in 2024 is still so much ahead of its time, it’s almost embarrassing.

How’s this for an opening… At what seems like a wedding, the bride turns to kiss a guest***: A classroom, the teacher asking “How do we live?” She invites a boy called Elgar to answer. Before we can hear his response, we cut to a wide shot of a white man on a lounger next to a swimming pool in front of an enormous house. The answer to the teacher’s question snaps into focus as a black servant in full livery delivers a refreshing drink. “Thank you, Haywood,” says the white man. Cut to a mid-shot of a black man trying to hail a cab in New York. One zips past him. Back to the white man who tries to make an anodyne conciliatory point on humanity but before he finishes, we cut to a wide of an effeminate black hairdresser briefly plying his trade. Back to the white guy who says “we’re all like a bunch of ants, see,” and cut to the black man hailing a cab. This time four go by in quick succession. He mouths an obscenity to camera and cut back to the white guy. The strongest urge of humanity, according to this clearly wealthy individual, is to gain territory. Back to a closer shot of the hairdresser playfully flirting with his customer. Back to the white guy who simply grunts and cut to a full screen of white which is actually the floor of a squash court. The white man is now in close up, against a neutral background swigging brandy. The squash players continue their game and cut to the streets of New York and the first titles. By this point I am dazzled and deliriously happy because I know that I will never for one second figure out what’s going to happen next and that’s a great film’s superpower. I thought we were in New York for the rest of the titles but no. Back to the close up and the white guy saying he wants a place of his own. Titles carry on… intercutting black neighbourhoods with the perverse whiteness of the two white guys in white playing in a white squash court. I laughed at the absurdity of juxtaposition and just knew I was in great hands. The white guy says with a smile that you really want to wipe off his face, “Money has never been a problem.” The screen goes black but it’s just dark modern art being moved into a tenement house.

The titles then reveal a one-two punch of guaranteed 70s craftsmanship. Legendary cinematographer Gordon Willis was not the Gordon Willis in 1970. The Godfather was still to come and cameraman Michael Chapman, who in four years would start shooting Jaws, and on the Orca, mostly handheld. The white guy then admits he has bought a tenement house in a black neighbourhood and plans to evict the residents, gut the place to make a huge, palatial home for himself. He could not be more of an asshole. That he is played by a young, boyish, blue-eyed, blond Beau Bridges is a ‘beautiful people’ counterpoint to his inhuman plans. It is casting beyond the call of duty. This was the start of the concept of neighbourhood gentrification. The rich white guy’s name is Elgar Winthrop Julius Enders (of course it is). In his white suit (!) he’s welcoming in a near neighbour who has the same idea of changing the nature of the neighbourhood, when a yellow cement ball flies in through the window spilling yellow powder all over the floor… The black woman estate agent brushes this ‘eviction powder’ aside with “It’s just a little voodoo.”

Just as I thought we’d settled down to tell Elgar’s story, we cut to him driving a convertible full of flowers. As the car passes, a black man reaches into a garbage can to retrieve a wooden box. It’s just 18 frames but you just know it was designed. And this movie is crammed with such thoughtful filmmaking. His first brush with the residents of his new house contains a small detail which again floored me. Copee seems to be the leader of the group of black men that accost Elgar putting his pot plant back in his car as Elgar struggles to get it into the house. Copee grabs his pink tie and raises it taut and the image of what Billie Holiday once called ‘Strange Fruit’ flashes into mind, black bodies swinging in the southern breeze.**** With all the experience, subtlety and manners of a well dressed infant, Elgar places himself as the landlord of the title and immerses himself in the lives of his tenants. There is push back from both parents, immensely rich, a piece of cake to loathe but they are rather wonderfully skewered and always entertaining in their callous disregard for a different hue of humanity. That said, of course, their servants don’t count. Of course, Elgar’s journey starts by getting to know a strata of people with whom he would never normally come into contact and their own decency and humanity rub off a little and slowly, Elgar is humanised. Despite all that I’ve written above (which represents just six minutes, an opening the like of which I have never seen before), I’d encourage you to go in cold to enjoy every twist and turn. I’d classify it as a black (and white) comedy satire with some huge points to make on race relations still horribly relevant today. So to save any more spoilers, let’s appreciate the cast.

A firm favourite from In The Heat of the Night is Lee Grant as Joyce Enders, the matriarch of the Enders family. This must have been the template for Harold’s mother in Harold and Maude. Both women are independently wealthy, are hurt and confused as to why their offspring are not content with a life of luxury and privilege and both are eccentric, wilful and deliciously funny. Grant has tremendous range and is able to show that off in a scene where she arrives with expensive curtain material and ends up getting hammered with Marge, one of the residents. She is never less that one hundred per cent believable. I feared for her safety making it down the stone steps to her chauffeured car. Playing Copee was an actor I recognised immediately but his name just wouldn’t come and all for a full head of hair. If he’d been bald, the name Lou Gossett Jnr. would have pinged in my mind a lot earlier. We lost him in March this year at the age of 87. Of the black men in the cast, his is the meatier role. He has a loving wife, a volcanic temper (being 6ft 4” helps in his being terrifying) and a real sadness inside that overwhelms him once brought low. He really makes you feel his pain. It was only his third movie role and he kept working all his life and perhaps is best known for his drill sergeant in An Officer and a Gentleman.

The three black women characters who all impact Elgar in different ways are also faultless characterisations. Pearl Bailey as Marge says hullo with a shotgun but is convinced Elgar is who he says he is and in many ways she’s a softer counterpart to Mrs. Enders. She allows Elgar a literal and metaphorical way in to the building and a new life. She pivots from a death threat to an invitation to eat in such a charming way, you just love her on the spot. At a night club Elgar meets a dancer, Lanie, played by Marki Bey. As Elgar reveals his interest, she floors him with “You think I’m white, don’t cha?” And so begins a relationship in which our interest and preoccupations with skin colour and its gradations loom large. Lanie is a fascinating character as when living with her father in winter she was regarded as black and in the summer with her mother she was white. Just imagine inhabiting the world with dual melanin-based citizenship being treated differently according to the seasons. I’d think mental illness would set in but Lanie seems very well adjusted. On this subject of mixed race, a white man, Elgar is accused by one of the residents of having “watered down every race you ever hate.” There are even names given to those with mixed race ancestry and none sound anything less than judgemental. This was my first exposure to the word ‘octoroon’ which is technically a person who is one eighth black by descent. Third, there is Francine "Fanny" Johnson played by Diana Sands. She stumbles upon Elgar throwing up in the street and takes him in. The white light in her apartment is too harsh (I mean come on, talk about cinematic ideas thrown at you even incidentally every minute) so they sit bathed in a red glow that makes them just the one colour. With her husband arrested after attending a demonstration, she takes pity on Elgar thereby setting up a confrontation with Copee later on. Sands is so sensitive in this scene and it is well earned and pivotal as far as the narrative is concerned. It’s always a treat seeing Susan Anspach in her heyday in a small part. She plays Elgar’s batty sister, Susan. A big shout out to Elgar himself. Beau Bridges has always acted somewhat in his older brother’s shadow but he’s a likeable character with movie star DNA and carries off the change from monied insensitivity to empathic care with aplomb.

The Landlord is based on a novel by Kristin Hunter and adapted by Bill Gunn (both black, a plus for authenticity) and while the screenplay works gangbusters, I have to give the biggest credit to director Ashby who directed his editors to be bold and take risks. Take a bow, William A. Sawyer and Edward Warschilka. The editing in this film is unique and it’s so fresh and alive with possibility and potential. There are jump cuts to emphasise humour or shots cut in from members of the family reacting to Elgar’s behaviour but they are shot up against a cream neutral backdrop which is totally in keeping with the style of the film but it’s nuts that someone even thought of that way to shoot the shots let alone how to cut them in. The editors leave in Elgar’s throat clearings which I’m sure weren’t in the script and use them as a punchline to another visual juxtaposition. In the opening, they cut back to Elgar with his lemonade and he just grunts and we cut straight afterwards. One cut still makes me laugh no matter how many times I see it. A pregnancy is announced and one rich, white character drops her handbag in shock and imagines herself in a white dress holding both a parasol and a black baby surrounded by eight black children all dressed in white on the manicured lawn. The fear on display is leavened with humour and the rich whites get suitably withering treatment.

The music is by Al Kooper but the score is mostly tracks of soul music presumably not written for the film. I stand corrected. Kooper wrote the lyric, the music and in a few cases, sang the songs himself. It locks the film in the 70s but it’s a perfect fit for the movie. I’ll leave the last word to Melvin Stewart as Professor Duboise who is teaching young black children to be confident and steering them down what may be considered an anti-white path recognising that they will get no concessions or positive vibes from those who deem themselves superior. Elgar walks in to the class and Duboise says “We’ve all had our breakfast so you’re comparatively safe.” I just love the ‘comparatively’.

Ah, 70s US cinema… Presented in 1.85:1 with narrow letterboxing, The Landlord looks gritty in the tenements and resplendent in the town houses and has that gorgeous 35mm softness (this is not a synonym of out of focus, just the nature of the film stock). There’s fine grain but only in the darker shots and it doesn’t at all distract. It helps to have Gordon Willis as your cinematographer. A fan of what one might call dark cinema (his nickname was ‘Prince of Darkness’), Willis plies his trade here with great skill. An enraged Copee on the verge of a breakdown is shot in close up in shadow with just his eyes burning, pin pricks of light in each pupil. The clean up or full restoration is spot on (or should I say spot off?) and I found no marks or dust sparkle. First class.

The original mono soundtrack has no difficulty at all presenting the soul music and every line of dialogue is cleanly recorded and mixed for perfect clarity.

There are optional English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing.

A new interview with Hal Ashby biographer Nick Dawson (2024) (22’ 28”)
A rollicking and swift introduction to Hal Ashby; a child being brought up close to Mormonism, moving into hippiedom (not too hard to understand if you see any photos of him), Ashby was wisely told that if he wanted to become a film director then becoming a film editor first was the way to go. Good call. Dawson gives some great background information on the making of The Landlord. He also assesses Ashby’s status as a Hollywood figure, not as revered as the young bucks but well respected as a true artistic talent even if his name and reputation suffered from him not having an auteur’s stamp. When humanism is your speciality, you don’t get many plaudits from critics. I think if Nick Dawson and myself found ourselves in the same room, we’d just nod at each other as his reading of the film is so very close to my own. A great extra and not just because Dawson and I share opinions.

An interview with broadcaster and author Ellen E. Jones (2024) (17’ 31”)
We are reminded that the novel on which the film is based was written by a black woman and adapted for the screen by a black man. A great comparison is made between Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner where the only representation of colour was one brilliant black man… equal by being superior, unimpeachably noble, always doing the right thing. There’s only one scene in In The Heat of the Night where Poitier strays from that lofty position (the post-slap Endicott scene) but in general it’s a valid stance. Jones herself, to use the more acceptable term, (I hope) is mixed heritage and so has more than a passing interest in these issues. That whole ‘how black is black’ as regards the Lanie summer/winter identity is touched upon here. We get some background on Bill Gunn and how he began as an actor and how Hollywood would cast for Poitier and if unavailable, cast a white person. The weight of representing an entire race of people on Poitier’s shoulders was immense. The Landlord, however, has a diverse cast of black characters and each shines as discrete and fully rounded characters. I thought by this time in the 21st century we’d have sorted all this nonsense out by now but no… The quote I am left with in this fantastic extra is something I agree with, would underline, make bold and italicise and bow at its altar…“I think you could make this film, word for word, shot for shot, today and be hailed as a genius.” Ellen has utterly nailed it for me.

The Racial Gap – An interview with star Beau Bridges (2019, (25’ 01”)
Oh my God! He’s wearing his mother’s curtain material! Fantastic that he still has it. At the age of 82, he looks incredible. He’s clearly still sharp as a tack with very fond memories of his experience shooting The Landlord. He tells a tremendous story about the fraternity of an acting troupe which endears me even more to the late Lou Gossett Jnr. Cinematographer Gordon Willis gets deserved praise and the axe scene examined as choreography and a needed hug after the aggression. Bridges has only good things to say about Ashby. It’s nice to know that even Bridges didn’t quite know why his character acted as he did at the dinner table. You’ll know what I mean when you see it. Oh, what a lovely late reveal which I won’t spoil but remember the wedding, the first shot of the film with Beau Bridges standing next to Hal Ashby? There’s a reason he’s there. What a beautiful capper to a lovely interview.

Reflections – An interview with star Lee Grant (2019) (25’ 53”)
And here she is, one of the most talented actresses of her era. I often wondered why we didn’t see more of her after the Oscar nomination… She was blacklisted for 12 years for marrying a communist. My God, how can I love this woman more? At the time of the film’s production, there was great racial tension in the US. Grant was an immigrant from Russia – the things you learn. Grant has great respect for her fellow actors with a special nod to her onscreen son Beau Bridges. “Suddenly there were directors with style…” in the 70s, a golden age for Hollywood, no question. Her respect for Ashby is way up here and she seems to have had an extraordinary time shooting the movie. It’s so lovely to hear from one of my favourite actresses. While her birth date is under some dispute, she is still with us well into her 90s.

Style and Substance – An interview with producer Norman Jewison (2019) (28’ 57”)
Like Lou Gossett Jnr., we also lost Norman Jewison this year in January. But at a sprightly 92 in 2019, we have this interview to savour. Jewison recounts hearing Rod Steiger’s voice coming out of a cutting room in the mid-60s… Incidents like that can be a form of fate (if you entertain such foolish notions), one that makes careers. If you were a cynical person, you might think that without Jewison hearing Steiger’s voice, Hal Ashby may have had an even more stellar career. But that’s how they met (Ashby was ace editor Bob Swink’s assistant). They hit it off and Jewison offered Ashby the job of cutting The Cincinnati Kid. So not only did Jewison kickstart Ashby’s editing career but he launched his directing career. Oh, to be blessed with such a godfather in the industry. Let’s not even mention that Jewison also bought Ashby a Jaguar after he won the editing Oscar for In The Heat of the Night. Wow. Jewison also urged Ashby to stick to his guns against the studio. Jewison understood how crucial the editing was to The Landlord and underlines it in this interview. Smart guy. He goes even further about how editors approach their work. I am now officially mourning Jewison’s death six months ago. Editing is the film industry’s dark art that never gets the love or understanding it deserves but Norman in this interview nails it. He also, very movingly, talks about how Ashby died and how his good friend raged against the dying of the light as the poem goes. This is not only a Blu-ray extra. It is an historical document. Bless you, Norman Jewison.

Trailer (2’ 32”)
With just the one set up line to introduce the premise, the trailer, as befits a film as exquisitely edited as The Landlord, then proceeds to sell itself by intercutting scores of shots from different dialogue scenes and it actually makes sense. Someone worked long and hard to cut this trailer and kudos to them. It’s full of normal film dirt and scratches but that’s hardly a problem.

Limited edition booklet featuring new writing by critic Jourdain Searles, plus an archival piece with Hal Ashby
The Booklet was not available for review.

I cannot be remotely dispassionate or objective about my appreciation of this extraordinary film. I admit that it has knocked me for six. It is a film that looks at race and racial tensions with a blistering honesty, a film that satirically paints those brought up to see other human beings as inferior as aloof morons or at the very least, ignorant fools whose status and position in society is violently open to dispute. Those oppressed by the ruling classes have learned how to live on their own terms despite the clear disadvantages they face in all aspects of American culture.

And here’s the rub. The Landlord is a film that is vehemently anti-racist. It is creatively anti-racist, craftily anti-racist and just plain anti-racist. It is written by a black screenwriter, directed by a sympathetic white director with a mostly black cast. In 1970, this film was an outlier. But there are scenes and moments in the film, while meant as satire, that could be misinterpreted as being (of all things) ‘racist’. I want to promote this work of cinematic art but I also want those sensitive to racism not to be afraid to give this film a chance to live again. If our current sensitivity to all things race related stays at the level that it seems to me to be, The Landlord will disappear, tarred by the mistaken brush of being something that it is not.

If there was just one thing to criticise (and there is only one) it’s the promotional art (which may be the original studio publicity designs). A white finger about to press one of two black doorbells. It’s a little too crude for my taste. But hey, if that’s the only criticism… The Landlord is, to me, undeniably extraordinary. This is a Blu-ray hugely recommended.

footnotes:

* Norman Jewison, director of In The Heat of the Night

** https://interviewswithicons.wordpress.com/2011/02/17/feature-on-filmmaker-hal-ashby/

*** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DGY9HvChXk