A literal modern-day Icarus tale

BREWSTER MCCLOUD (1970):

One of Robert Altman's least appreciated films 
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

My feeling of "Brewster McCloud" is that it is an allegory of rebellion and freedom in the 1970's - to be a non-conformist and follow your own road, your own yellow brick road. Though the movie is full of "Wizard of Oz" homages, "Brewster McCloud" is as unconventional and inaccessible as any movie can get by the usually deeply inaccessible Robert Altman, and yet as evocative of the magic of movies as any other. 

Bud Cort is Brewster McCloud, a young man who steals Nikon cameras and cars, strangles people (!), lives in the Houston Astrodome's fallout shelter, and is building wings so he can fly freely in the Astrodome, Icarus-style. Sally Kellerman is a guardian angel of sorts who is nude when bathing Brewster, and helps to serve as a distraction so Brewster can go about town creating havoc. In the beginning of the film, Brewster is a limousine driver for a racist, wheelchair-bound millionaire (Stacy Keach, in old age makeup) who fires people on the spot. Brewster seems to have some animosity but he never expresses it verbally or emotionally, and the stranglings are all off-screen. Racist, piggish characters are instantly eliminated, whereas young Bohemian chicks are embraced, especially one with pigtails who is aroused by Brewster's pull-ups. 

What sort of movie is "Brewster McCloud"? I can only say that it serves as an offbeat antidote to the angry rebel pictures of the past and up to the late 60's and early 70's. It is about rebellion but done with a muted and naturalistic style, completely Altmanesque in every manner. There is a little bit of everything here including absurd car chases; birds pooping on people (poop gags were also in stench display in Altman's "Ready to Wear"); a supposedly brilliant cop a'la "Bullitt" (Michael Murphy) with blue contact lenses; Margaret Hamilton as a bad singer who hates black birds and gets her comeuppance in a bird cage; Shelley Duvall in her film debut as an Astrodome tour guide; Rene Auberjonois as a lecturer on birds who slowly transforms into one; a scene on how to test if a marijuana cigarette is marijuana; a silent roar from the MGM lion, not to mention the only time in movie history I can recall a repeat of the film's title and production company within the first few minutes; and perhaps more aviary shots than in any nature documentary. 

Bud Cort is mostly stone-faced in this movie, and I believe by design. I would have still liked a little emotion, especially with the subtlety in mannerisms he later expressed in "Harold and Maude."  Still, he has got charisma and keeps you glued to his every whim. Shelley Duvall is simply sweet and delightful and completely innocuous. It is really Sally Kellerman, though, who shows understated comic energy as the only person who cares about Brewster. Her final scene is so astounding that it deserves more than a footnote in light of her Academy Award nomination the same year for Altman's "MASH."

"Brewster McCloud" has been one of the least-known of Altman's films, right up there with "O.C. and Stiggs" and "Quintet." The only way it has been seen since its theatrical release is on television, laserdisc and limited VHS copies. Ultimately, it is Brewster's final flight of freedom that showcases not just Brewster but Altman himself. They are both iconoclasts who take risks and, in some cases, suffer the consequences. Outside of "Nashville" and "Short Cuts," it may be Altman's most personal film.