There's a lot of New York in Sidney Lumet's incredible Dog Day Afternoon. And I don't just mean the locales. I remember reading somewhere that Lumet had decided to do a New York story the New York way. And Dog Day Afternoon is the outcome of his New York vision. For the uninitiated, Lumet made a few of the greatest crime-dramas in the 1970s, most of them starred Al Pacino in the lead role, and he made it better than most filmmakers could with better equipment. With the exception of Martin Scorsese, of course, who is a New Yorker, too, born and bred. But that's another story.
About the film, it is a fine crime-drama that works well as a kind of black comedy because it's got a surprising dose of humor weaved into a hot Hollywood favorite storyline of a perfect robbery gone wrong. Heist drama it is not, contrary to a popular belief. Lumet invests heavily into his characters, and that's what he's famous for, ain't it? Oh, and while I'm on the subject, please do yourself a favor and check out his stunning Network, will you? It's terrific.
Now, I asked myself a question while watching Dog Day Afternoon : how can I differentiate a New York film from a, let's say, Los Angeles film if I've never been to either place? What is the difference between the two? That's a question answered in Dog Day Afternoon, or rather, the movie's the answer. Dog Day Afternoon doesn't go all guns blaring to make it's point heard. And yet, it's like the first breath of pure oxygen to a wilting brain, a movie's that ferocious and funny without ever being jejune. And the little details. Ah, the details! The argot, the words that make it and the characters who say it. That's Dog Day Afternoon for you.
But, you know, Dog Day Afternoon is just a synecdoche. Just a synecdoche. The whole film, the whole 125 minutes of pure bliss, boils down to just one thing : Sonny Wortzik. Animated by the glorious Al Pacino, Sonny is the livid and smutty protagonist. Or is he? That's a mystery I haven't figured out as yet, folks. When he's robbing the bank, he barks out to the sardonic manager, "Hey, you. Manager. Fucker! Don't get ideas. I bark, that guy over there. See him? He bites." And I couldn't help going back again and again just to hear him snap. Sonny's not too bright when it comes to robbing a bank clean. He hangs around even after he has robbed it just not to leave any record. He's likable because not because he's clumsy but because he knows what he's talking about. He's honest, and when a reporter asks him why he's robbing a bank, he quips, "I'm robbing a bank because they've got money here. That's why I'm robbing it." See, that's ingenuous. Sonny Wortzik is a synecdoche in a synecdoche.
Lumet's got a way when he's behind the camera. The mood feels New York-ish, and the atmosphere certainly is. There's mastery in the way he handles the little touches he puts on. At the beginning of the film, when the whole thing turns into a media circus, and when Sonny comes out cussing and bellowing, the crowds emit wild cheers. They like the gawky fellow for his guts, and when he yells, "Attica! Attica!", a mortifying reminder of the infamous Attica prison riots, they know whose side to take. But when they learn that he's bisexual, they catcall his antics, ridicule his guts, the one thing that they liked in him.
Why is Dog Day Afternoon a New York film, with all its touches, mood, characters and slang? Because it defines the city. It's crowded, it's noisy and it's brash. Cheeky too. There's magic in the way Sonny vents his anger out on the hierarchy.
Dog Day Afternoon is a great film, an important film, and a film that pays tribute to an extraordinary city. Look past it's languid pacing and there's enough cinematic wizardry to make it worth your time.
About the film, it is a fine crime-drama that works well as a kind of black comedy because it's got a surprising dose of humor weaved into a hot Hollywood favorite storyline of a perfect robbery gone wrong. Heist drama it is not, contrary to a popular belief. Lumet invests heavily into his characters, and that's what he's famous for, ain't it? Oh, and while I'm on the subject, please do yourself a favor and check out his stunning Network, will you? It's terrific.
Now, I asked myself a question while watching Dog Day Afternoon : how can I differentiate a New York film from a, let's say, Los Angeles film if I've never been to either place? What is the difference between the two? That's a question answered in Dog Day Afternoon, or rather, the movie's the answer. Dog Day Afternoon doesn't go all guns blaring to make it's point heard. And yet, it's like the first breath of pure oxygen to a wilting brain, a movie's that ferocious and funny without ever being jejune. And the little details. Ah, the details! The argot, the words that make it and the characters who say it. That's Dog Day Afternoon for you.
But, you know, Dog Day Afternoon is just a synecdoche. Just a synecdoche. The whole film, the whole 125 minutes of pure bliss, boils down to just one thing : Sonny Wortzik. Animated by the glorious Al Pacino, Sonny is the livid and smutty protagonist. Or is he? That's a mystery I haven't figured out as yet, folks. When he's robbing the bank, he barks out to the sardonic manager, "Hey, you. Manager. Fucker! Don't get ideas. I bark, that guy over there. See him? He bites." And I couldn't help going back again and again just to hear him snap. Sonny's not too bright when it comes to robbing a bank clean. He hangs around even after he has robbed it just not to leave any record. He's likable because not because he's clumsy but because he knows what he's talking about. He's honest, and when a reporter asks him why he's robbing a bank, he quips, "I'm robbing a bank because they've got money here. That's why I'm robbing it." See, that's ingenuous. Sonny Wortzik is a synecdoche in a synecdoche.
Lumet's got a way when he's behind the camera. The mood feels New York-ish, and the atmosphere certainly is. There's mastery in the way he handles the little touches he puts on. At the beginning of the film, when the whole thing turns into a media circus, and when Sonny comes out cussing and bellowing, the crowds emit wild cheers. They like the gawky fellow for his guts, and when he yells, "Attica! Attica!", a mortifying reminder of the infamous Attica prison riots, they know whose side to take. But when they learn that he's bisexual, they catcall his antics, ridicule his guts, the one thing that they liked in him.
Why is Dog Day Afternoon a New York film, with all its touches, mood, characters and slang? Because it defines the city. It's crowded, it's noisy and it's brash. Cheeky too. There's magic in the way Sonny vents his anger out on the hierarchy.
Dog Day Afternoon is a great film, an important film, and a film that pays tribute to an extraordinary city. Look past it's languid pacing and there's enough cinematic wizardry to make it worth your time.
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