The 1970s are often cited as a decade of evolution for American cinema, and I can't say that I disagree. Evolving from the world of classic cinema, the '70s were a time of growth in character and uniqueness of storytelling. We became exposed to stories that we wouldn't have seen in decades before, with characters filled with grit and moral ambiguity. Stories became as much about developing their characters as they did about driving the narratives, with a wave of powerful and dynamic young actors like Dustin Hoffman and Jack Nicholson making their names. Of course there are plenty of exceptions to this, but Scarecrow is one of the finest examples of '70s American cinema.
Two of the cream of that crop of young actors were Al Pacino and Gene Hackman, and here they portray two drifters named Max and Lion who drift into one another at the beginning of the film. Together they take a journey towards Pittsburgh, where Max has saved up some money in order to open a car wash, which he invites Lion to do with him. Scarecrow came out in 1973, the same year as The Last Detail, and both films follow a similar structure of using a long journey to explore it's characters. It's not about the point A to point B journey but is instead about taking us on an emotional, thematic journey with these characters. It also bears a resemblance to the great Midnight Cowboy, in the way that these two distinctly different characters come into each other's lives and they both transform the other in ways they wouldn't have expected.
Hackman's Max is a stubborn and aggressive man, stuck in his ways and unable to enjoy the freedom his life allows. He's always one step away from a violent outrage and constantly finds himself getting into confrontations during their time together. Pacino's Lion, on the other hand, is a free spirit with a child-like sense of joy. He is always playing games, dancing around, making faces and trying to make everyone else laugh. When faced with malice from an outside force, Max will revolt with a violent attack but Lion finds himself constantly trying to make jokes and ease the tension away. Their journey together sends them toward the other's sensibility and it's this turn that provides the most interesting aspect of Scarecrow. Lion is eventually faced with the real horrors of the world and realizes that his infantile approach to life can leave him vulnerable to the despicable nature of some people, whereas Max comes to understand that sometimes you should just relax and not constantly live with one hand in a fist.
Guiding the whole journey, of course, are the performances from Hackman and Pacino. These are two of my absolute favorite actors, so it means a lot when I say that these are high among their finest performances. Hackman has said that this was his favorite performance of his career, but the financial failure of the film discouraged him from taking on more independently minded stories such as this and he spent the rest of his career in more commercially safe films. He still managed to deliver quality work for his whole career, but it's a shame that he became so reluctant to do anymore films like this because he is on fire here. All of that stubborn aggression of Max is burnt into Hackman's bulky frame and he creates an intimidating, fascinating character. Watching him slowly start to open up in the later stages of the film was a beautiful turn.
Pacino in the '70s overall was arguably the finest decade for any actor in the history of film and this is one of the strongest examples as to why that was. It's an incredibly unique character for him, trading in the brooding anarchists that he was known for and instead playing someone so filled with wonder and child-like bliss. He is at his most charismatic and playful here and it's a true testament not only to his skill as an actor, but especially to his diversity. The fact that his work here came in the same year as his explosive performance in Serpico, sandwiched by his timeless portrayal of Michael Corleone in the first two Godfather films, is astonishing to ruminate on. These are two tremendous performances highlighting a film with a surprisingly emotional impact.
Two of the cream of that crop of young actors were Al Pacino and Gene Hackman, and here they portray two drifters named Max and Lion who drift into one another at the beginning of the film. Together they take a journey towards Pittsburgh, where Max has saved up some money in order to open a car wash, which he invites Lion to do with him. Scarecrow came out in 1973, the same year as The Last Detail, and both films follow a similar structure of using a long journey to explore it's characters. It's not about the point A to point B journey but is instead about taking us on an emotional, thematic journey with these characters. It also bears a resemblance to the great Midnight Cowboy, in the way that these two distinctly different characters come into each other's lives and they both transform the other in ways they wouldn't have expected.
Hackman's Max is a stubborn and aggressive man, stuck in his ways and unable to enjoy the freedom his life allows. He's always one step away from a violent outrage and constantly finds himself getting into confrontations during their time together. Pacino's Lion, on the other hand, is a free spirit with a child-like sense of joy. He is always playing games, dancing around, making faces and trying to make everyone else laugh. When faced with malice from an outside force, Max will revolt with a violent attack but Lion finds himself constantly trying to make jokes and ease the tension away. Their journey together sends them toward the other's sensibility and it's this turn that provides the most interesting aspect of Scarecrow. Lion is eventually faced with the real horrors of the world and realizes that his infantile approach to life can leave him vulnerable to the despicable nature of some people, whereas Max comes to understand that sometimes you should just relax and not constantly live with one hand in a fist.
Guiding the whole journey, of course, are the performances from Hackman and Pacino. These are two of my absolute favorite actors, so it means a lot when I say that these are high among their finest performances. Hackman has said that this was his favorite performance of his career, but the financial failure of the film discouraged him from taking on more independently minded stories such as this and he spent the rest of his career in more commercially safe films. He still managed to deliver quality work for his whole career, but it's a shame that he became so reluctant to do anymore films like this because he is on fire here. All of that stubborn aggression of Max is burnt into Hackman's bulky frame and he creates an intimidating, fascinating character. Watching him slowly start to open up in the later stages of the film was a beautiful turn.
Pacino in the '70s overall was arguably the finest decade for any actor in the history of film and this is one of the strongest examples as to why that was. It's an incredibly unique character for him, trading in the brooding anarchists that he was known for and instead playing someone so filled with wonder and child-like bliss. He is at his most charismatic and playful here and it's a true testament not only to his skill as an actor, but especially to his diversity. The fact that his work here came in the same year as his explosive performance in Serpico, sandwiched by his timeless portrayal of Michael Corleone in the first two Godfather films, is astonishing to ruminate on. These are two tremendous performances highlighting a film with a surprisingly emotional impact.