The Film
Based, apparently more closely, on the same book that was adapted into the 1949 film They Live By Night, Thieves Like Us feels to me as if it falls somewhere between being Robert Altman’s faithful take on a studio era gangster film, and a somewhat gentler response to Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde. Penn’s film arguably struck the final blow against what had been the standards in censorship in the US across the Hays Code years, ushering in the movie brats era, while Altman keeps much of the violence off screen, but otherwise makes a film that is very much of its time.
The plot is fairly loose, but follows three prison escapees—Bowie (Keith Carradine), Chicamaw (John Shuck) and T-Dub (Bert Remsen)—as they try to evade the authorities staying with relations (Louise Fletcher as T-Dub’s cousin) or criminal friends like Dee Mobley (Tom Skeritt), whose daughter Keachie (Shelly Duvall) Bowie ends up romancing, while pulling occasional bank jobs to keep the money flowing.
Like the gang, when they are together the film sort of shambles between plot points, taking plenty of down time just to hang out with this loose family of felons. Carradine, who made many films for Altman and for his protege Alan Rudolph, gets the most screen time, and gives Bowie, the youngest among the group, an easy-going charm that belies his status as, initially, the only killer among them.
The first half of the film doesn’t show the crimes, instead giving us details of the robberies and of the background of the gang through radio and newspaper reports. Indiviually, Bowie, Chickamaw and T-Dubs all observe, at times, that these reports are untrue; commentary from Altman on the sensationalism of crime reporting (and by the same token his own and other crime movies) that still rings true today.
As with all of Altman’s films, there are always many layers of action and dialogue on screen. Keachie’s first appearance is a good example, as Altman keeps her visible, pottering around in the kitchen, as the main dialogue unfolds in the foreground between the men. A more complex version of a similar tactic occurs in the sole bank robbery that we see unfold in full. Much of it is played in a master, so the geography of the scene is always clear, with Chickamaw and T-Dubs executing the robbery, while Bowie hangs back near the door, calmly dealing with customers who file in while the stickup is going on. Altman marshals this sequence brilliantly, and the flash of violence is all the more shocking for how controlled his camera and the execution are up until that point.
Altman’s trademark overlapping dialogue crops up in just about every scene, and overall contributes a lot, along with the production and costume design and his tendency to let takes play out over an extended period, to a very loose and realistic film. Few other directors ever had such a clear grasp on the way people actually talk, with different conversations carrying on in the same moment, and people overlapping the ends of each other’s sentences. If the film’s use of violence often feels more classical, this (and its occasional sex and nudity) plays to the modern style that Altman had helped to pioneer. The performances are very naturalistic all round, with Carradine and Duvall’s unforced chemistry in particular making scenes that could otherwise have distracted from the main flow of the story something that we invest in.
Overall, Thieves Like Us doesn’t move like a traditional crime movie or a thriller, but it still hits all the beats; prison escapes, bank robberies, hostage taking and more, in a way that is uniquely Robert Altman. I love the rhythm of his films, and this one fits perfectly into that unique register. It’s a story that cropped up a lot, but told in a way and at a pace that could only have come out of the ’70s and out of Altman.
★★★★
The picture, for the most part, is very good. The blu-ray image is largely crisp and detailed, with what seem like intentionally faded colours. On occasion, and especially during the opening credits, there is noticeable print damage and dirt that couldn’t be cleaned, while towards the end of the film, some close up appear rather soft, and detail much less pronounced than in the rest of the film. There is a possibility that these are stylistic choices, but they seem too specifically confined to the last twenty minutes to me. Whatever the picture issues, they are minor overall, and this is a vast upgrade on the MGM DVD that was released in the UK many years ago.
A substantial extras package begins with an archival commentary (dating from 1996 or ’97) from Altman. I’ve only sampled it so far, but his commentary is always insightful, if somewhat stop-start. Today, you might have added a moderator to keep the stories flowing a little more, but it’s a valuable insight into a great filmmaker.
Screenwriter Joan Tewkesbury talks about her collaborations with Altman in an 18 minute interview. She talks about Altman’s process, and how he would throw out old ideas of structure and embrace spontaneity when it came to writing. She also discusses adapting the source novel for Thieves Like Us and how easily it translated into film, especially given that she knew the actors from working on McCabe and Mrs Miller.
Keith Carradine, one of my favourite actors of the ’70s, sits for a 35 minute interview full of amazing stories from before and during the making of Thieves Like Us. Carradine is a consummate teller of these stories, animatedly discussing the mood of Altman’s sets, his own discomfort with improvisation and the uniqueness of Shelly Duvall with great affection.
Geoff Andrew’s intro to the film (which I would argue is actually best seen after you’ve seen the film at least once) contextualises the film within Altman’s filmography, especially the adventurous streak of films he was able to make in the wake of MASH. It’s an excellent argument that the film has been overlooked within this period of Altman’s work.
Several radio plays are heard incidentally during the film, and we get a couple of complete episodes. An episode of The Shadow from 1938 features the distinctive tones of Orson Welles, while Speed Gibson of the International Secret Police is a fun, if dated, chapter of an adventure serial, despite not having any familiar cast members.
