James William Guercio’s Electra Glide in Blue begins as a series of fragments. A man, Frank, seemingly blows a hole in his chest with a shotgun while preparing his dinner in his shack, an insignificant blip on that radar that is Arizona’s sprawling, desolate Monument Valley. Throughout, Guercio averts faces and focuses on action: movements of hands, the sudden glow of a turned-on lightbulb, the sizzle of pork fat on a skillet, and the loading of shells into two long-barrel shotguns. It’s the building blocks of an assumption, one that figures into Frank’s death, the crime that brings highway cop John Wintergreen (Robert Blake) into contact with Harve Poole (Mitch Ryan), a seasoned detective whom Wintergreen yearns to be like.
Despite his rampant ambition, Wintergreen is the picture of steadfast duty, busting speeders on the endless stretch of gravel that he surveys, a stark contrast to Zipper (Billy “Green” Bush), his off-kilter friend and fellow officer. When Zipper berates and then plants evidence on a hippie, Wintergreen won’t go along with the arrest, and when an obnoxious city detective tries to wave away a ticket with his badge, the young officer bucks even this everyday corruption.
The filmmakers see Wintergreen as an ideal lawgiver, even though they hint at the warped machismo lurking beneath his maintained exterior. In an early sequence, he’s seen taking turns between high-intensity pull-ups in white briefs and having sex with Jolene (Jeannine Riley), a local bartender, under an American flag. Later, Wintergreen displays a comical obsession with the wardrobe of detectives, including 10-gallon hats and cowboy boots. The role is a twisty one, and Blake delivers a marvelous performance, engendering a full measure of compassion for the character even when he’s playing the part of the desperate suck-up.
When Wintergreen discovers Frank’s body, he immediately thinks that a murder has been committed, and that the ensuing case will bring him to the big leagues. He dreams of being able to “think for a living.” But the filmmakers depict his ascent as a mighty rude awakening, as Poole is nothing more than a cynical, proud, and ultimately cowardly lawman, using his state-sanctioned power to torture leftists and shallowly demonize drugs.
Wintergreen doesn’t believe in the blue shield, which is to say that he doesn’t believe in excuses for injustice, making him a man of morals at a time when the country was uncertain if such things mattered. He becomes a martyr to the ideal of justice, as the search for Frank’s murderer becomes a route for various lawmen to vent their personal gripes and justify their opportunism. When the murderer is apprehended, his motive is aptly revealed to be one of jealousy and loneliness, and fear of being trampled under the hoof of progress. The title of the film itself refers to Zipper’s American dream, one that can be bought and which has the ultimate use of near-permanent isolation and dominance on the road.
Electra Glide in Blue is clearly political, as angry and subversive an American nightmare as was unleashed during Vietnam, and toward the end, Guercio and writer Robert Boris’s fatalism gets the best of them, ending the film on a preachy note that’s more tedious than artful. And yet, the film is madly inventive, totally distinct, and very funny, all of which serve to balance out its natural bitterness, and suggest the importance of personality and analytical power in conjunction with duty. Despite its few weak moments, Electra Glide in Blue builds into a remarkable whole, at once antic in its somberness and good-humored in its fury.
Image/Sound
Sourced from a brand new 4K master, Kino’s transfer is uniformly terrific. The film’s opening scene and credits sequence, consisting entirely of fragmented close-ups, highlights just how detailed the image is, from the creases in Wintergreen’s leather belt and jacket to the sheen of his pistol and Electra Glide motorcycle. The color grading leans into the film’s naturalistic look and ensures details remain clear even in the darker night sequences. The audio features clean, crisp dialogue and a well-balanced mix that gives a full-bodied complexity to the score.
Extras
Kino has rolled out the red carpet for James William Guercio’s lone directorial effort, including several interviews and a pair of audio commentaries, on this Blu-ray release. On a new and incredibly lively commentary track, screenwriter Robert Boris and film historian Alex Van Dyne have much to say about the former’s script, Robert Blake’s improvisations, and the heavy influence of Kenneth Anger on Wintergreen’s introduction. Sadly, Guercio’s commentary is much more sedate, and his dry, flat delivery doesn’t make it a particularly easy listen. He does, however, provide some interesting insight into how his affection for the western (especially John Ford’s work in the genre) informed the making of Electra Glide in Blue, as well as addresses the many shortcuts taken to get around budgetary constraints.
Guercio also appears in a short intro to the film, discussing how he made the transition from the music industry to film and his fruitful collaboration with cinematographer Conrad Hall. Finally, two interviews are included, one in which actor Mitchell Ryan breaks down how he approached the role of Harve Poole, and the other in which Boris discusses his early career and how driving his motorcycle around the country inspired him to write the script for the film.
Overall
James William Guercio’s offbeat counter-culture cult classic gets a timely Blu-ray release in another era where Americans are re-examining the role of police in our society.
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