Woody Guthrie embodies the spirit of the sixties thirty
years too early. Like Dylan, the singer who so worshipped him, did at the
beginning of his career, Guthrie used his music to express a staunch social
conscience and insight his listeners to action. Like Dylan, Guthrie sometimes
had trouble being as humane as his lyrics. He abandoned his wife and children
amidst the devastation of the Great Depression to “find himself.” His family’s
loss was the world’s gain, as Guthrie’s experiences across America inspired him
to quit singing trite tunes about pretty girls and Jesus and start using his
music to “kill fascists,” as he famously scrawled across his guitar.
I’m not sure how closely Hal Ashby’s 1976 film Bound for Glory, based on Guthrie’s
autobiography of the same name, follows true history, but it has Guthrie (David
Carradine in an understated yet powerful performance) leaving behind the Dust
Bowl and a wife (Melinda Dillon) who belittles his dreams to follow them to
California. Along the way he has experiences that shape the musical/political
force he would become. He sees racism, redneck justice, the callousness behind
Christian platitudes, abject poverty, and the violent chaos that lack of
organization breeds firsthand. Upon visiting a shantytown, Guthrie meets Ozark
Bule (Ronny Cox), a magnetic singer who instills in Guthrie the values of
organization. Together they become pro-Union troubadours forced to keep steps
ahead of brutish bands of union breakers. Politicized completely, Guthrie lives
up to left-wing ideals even more staunchly than Bule, becoming the man that
would inspire Dylan and so many others who preached the power of the people.
Although Bound for
Glory is set in the thirties, it is very much a film of the seventies. However,
unlike Popeye Doyle of The French
Connection, Randall McMurphy of Cuckoo’s
Nest, or others of their manly ilk, Carradine’s Guthrie does not possess an
iota of cynicism, making Roy Neary of Close
Encounters of the Third Kind his closest cinematic cousin of the decade. Guthrie’s
humanity makes the cruel way he leaves his wife and kids almost forgivable. He
cannot pass a person in need without handing over his last few coins.
Though music is not this film’s main concern, Carradine does
get a change to sing quite a few songs, and he does so with a growly, Rock
& Roll attitude alien to any music from so many decades earlier. In this
way, it reminded me of another great seventies film: Quadrophenia, which assays the early sixties with an anachronistic
attitude that makes it just as relevant to the time in which it was released.
Bound for Glory is
also very much a film of seventies aesthetics. Haskell Wexler’s photography is
superficially “antique” in its use of sepia tones, but the picture’s
graininess, expansiveness, and magical lighting are very seventies (Bound for Glory would make a great double-bill
with another Wexler-photographed historical drama from the seventies: Days of Heaven).
Twilight Time’s new blu-ray captures the visual magic of Bound for Glory quite well. Although the
print isn’t in spectacular shape—white specks abound—the image is well defined
and the original grain remains natural without becoming overbearing. The lack
of extras aside from an isolated score track may be disappointing, but the
feature is rich enough that you won’t really miss what isn’t here. Get it on
Twilight Time Movies.com here.