THE FAN: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1981) Shout!/Scream Factory

Screen legend, Lauren Bacall was not at all pleased with the way Edward Bianchi’s The Fan (1981) turned out. Indeed, Bacall had signed on for a far more stylish affair – Hitchcockian in tone, and, to co-star such heavy hitters of her generation as Maureen Stapleton (just coming off her Oscar-winning turn in Reds, 1981) and James Garner (most recently, of TV’s The Rockford Files 1974-80 fame). Only after the ink had dried on her contract, did producers elect to transform Bob Randall’s nail-biting novel into a run-of-the-mill slasher. The fault lay in producer, Robert Stigwood’s decision to ante up the gore, but keep tight to a more mature cast, who could have offered him far better than the twenty-something damsel in peril. Alas, Bacall could do nothing without incurring a lawsuit, and, went along for the ride. Nevertheless, she proved a force on the set, referring to first-time director, Bianchi as Dr. Pepper (in glib homage to his start in advertising, shooting commercials for the popular soft drink). Unbecoming her usual good nature, Bacall all but ignored co-star, Michael Biehn, who beat out hundreds of hopefuls for the coveted part of serial stalker, Douglas Breen. On the first day’s introductions, Biehn – then, all of 22, nervously approached Bacall with a handsome bouquet of roses as she was chatting up the newly divorced Garner, with whom it is rumored she might have been plotting an affair.  Bacall gave Biehn a brief glance, handed his offering to her assistant, then turned her back on him to continue her conversation: hardly, ‘star-like’ behavior, though ironically, totally in keeping with the tightly wound diva, Sally Ross she would be playing herein. The Fan ought to have been a better movie, its ‘queer’ disconnect between the loose trapping of a high style thriller, and, often laughably grotesque indulgences into the slasher ilk, resulted in countless rewrites, and, some truly episodic and badly executed sequences, culminating in the movie’s predictable showdown between Sally and Douglas.

Simultaneously being shot in New York at a time when the Big Apple’s on-screen reputation was of a decaying, dangerous and dystopian metropolis – thanks, to movies like Death Wish (1974), and, Cruising (1980), the anti-homoerotic vibe in The Fan cannot be ignored. Ironically, it was this quality, along with Bacall’s participation, that made The Fan something of a ‘must see’ in the gay community back in 1981, and, has similarly helped to evolve its cult status ever since.  But, truth to tell, The Fan is not a very good movie; further embellished with impossibly rank camp and a pair of hastily-written songs by Marvin Hamlisch – the plucky ‘A Remarkable Woman’ and, bittersweet, ‘Hearts, Not Diamonds’; incalculably butchered by Bacall’s off-pitch renditions, presumably as ‘the star’ of the new musical, ‘Never Say Never’.  Shooting on location, including a brief, but haunting sequence lensed at the long forgotten gay hot spot, The Haymarket – a then, notorious bar on 47th and 8th Avenue where men spent upwards of $20 for a piece of pie – The Fan takes full advantage of New York’s out-of-season bleak and bleary atmosphere. Dick Bush’s cinematography is first rate, as is Pino Donaggio’s suspense-laden underscore (remarkably, never to get released as a soundtrack). But Bacall is decidedly not reveling in this exercise. Nor is she particularly convincing as the aloof screen/stage legend, Sally Ross, slightly gone to seed, and, even with the aid of Bush’s heavy diffusion filters, meant to mask the ravages of time, still looking like fashion roadkill for most of the duration. Indeed, The Fan marked Bacall’s return to the screen in as many years. Ironically, in the interim, she had made a big splash on Broadway in ‘Applause’ – the musical version of All About Eve.

Clearly, The Fan is not Bacall’s forte. Nor was she squeamish about venting her frustrations on the set – frequently, to clash with Bianchi over the rewrites that kept her on edge about the movie’s finale. In Bob Randall’s novel – entirely written as a series of escalating ‘mash’ letters from the stalker to his intended victim – Sally Ross does meet with an untimely end. In the original screenplay, this plot device was carried through. But then, Stigwood began to muck around with the particulars. Other ideas briefly toyed with: a last-minute rescue from certain fate by Sally’s ex-husband, Jake Berman (Garner), and, a brutal murder/suicide, before the final solution – Sally killing her attacker with his own knife – became the piece de resistance. Bacall abhorred these changes, and, there is some speculation - even today - these final moments, in which a physically brutalized and emotionally withered Sally, stumbling out of the theater and past the body of her demented/deceased attacker, were – in fact – shot by Bacall’s double after the star had stormed off in protest.  Whatever the case, nothing Bacall did – or didn’t do, as the case may be – helped to buoy The Fan at the box office. Despite its ‘R’ rating, The Fan managed to alienate its core audiences in tandem: those, of a more ‘mature’ sampling, come to bask in a stylish Bacall/Garner movie, and anticipating a suspenseful night at the movies – only to be accosted and appalled by its sudden flights into grindhouse schlock -  while those, intent on seeing a grittier slasher flick were to be put off by its established players – in lieu of some scantily clad twenty-something victim du jour – and increasingly bored by the picture’s ostensibly tame and parceled off blood-letting.

The Fan begins in earnest with a main title sequence depicting a pair of hands calculatingly typing out the latest letter of esteem to one Sally Ross – the toast of Broadway. Ross has had this particular admirer for some time. However, more recently, these correspondences have gone from cordial – if slightly sycophantic admiration, increasingly to suggest a ‘love connection’ only to exist in their author’s deranged mind. We meet Douglas Breen, a handsome, but strangely ‘off’ clerk, working at a record store, yet increasingly distracted by his obsession with Sally Ross. By candlelight, Douglas writes Sally of his never-waning affections. His letters are all screened by Sally’s private secretary, Belle Goldman (Maureen Stapleton). On several occasions, Belle tries to forewarn Sally of Douglas’ mounting infatuation. But Sally is too self-centered and invested in her career to care. To this end, she entrusts the minor details of life to Belle and her maid, Elsa (Feiga Martinez). Alas, Sally’s insular attitude is what cost her, her marriage to actor, Jake Berman, presently in New York to shoot a movie, but also having brought along his much younger fiancée, Heidi (Lesley Rogers), whom he intends to marry once production wraps.  Heidi is hostile toward Sally, whom she deems a threat to her pending nuptials. She even refuses to cordially shake her hand at a party.  

Douglas becomes agitated after Belle replies to one of his letters by sending him a picture of Sally he already has. Writing to Sally again, he suggests in a follow-up letter that Belle has overstepped her bounds and should be fired. Concerned, Douglas’ agitation is becoming possessive, Belle tries to alert Sally to the danger he represents. Sally, instead, confronts Belle, inferring she has alienated one of her most ardent fans. The two have a minor quibble that ends in reconciliation, as Sally realizes she could not do without Belle; ever devoted as both her assistant and close personal friend. Alas, Douglas has tired of Belle’s intervention in what he perceives to be his ‘relationship’ with Sally. Denying his own sister (Kaiulani Lee) access into his apartment, a veritable shrine to Sally Ross with pictures plastered everywhere, Douglas now sets about to terrorize Belle with a straight razor as she departs the subway.  He succeeds at superficially wounding her cheek, leaving Belle incapacitated in the hospital, and thus, further isolating Sally for his own planned ‘reunion’. Sally immediately telephones Jake for solace – a move to alienate the jealous Heidi. Meanwhile, Police Inspector Raphael Andrews (Hector Elizondo) – empathetic, but divided in his duties - appoints Emily Stolz (Anna Maria Horsford) as Sally’s bodyguard. This, inadvertently comes in handy after Douglas breaks into Sally’s penthouse, trashes her place and murders Elsa with his straight razor. Prior to this episode, Douglas had also managed to disembowel Sally’s friend in the show, David Branum (Kurt Johnson) while he swam in a public pool at the local YMCA.

Fearing no one will be able to save her from Douglas’ rage – indeed, in one of the movie’s most shocking moments, Douglas leaves behind a perverted mash note, addressing Sally as ‘dearest bitch’ and inquiring if she would like to be ‘fucked with a meat cleaver’. Hence, at the crack of dawn, Sally skulks off without Emily, taking refuge in her remote cottage in the Hamptons. Briefly, startled by a neighbor not expecting her to be at home, Sally remains in seclusion while the Broadway show, Never Say Never prepares for its big premiere. Frustrated in her absence, Douglas trolls the gay nightclubs, ending up at the Haymarket where he picks up a young man (Terence Marinan), presumably for sex. Alas, taken to an isolated rooftop rendezvous, as the eager man performs fellatio on Douglas, he has his neck brutally slashed with the straight razor. Bleeding to death, Douglas wastes no time dousing the deceased in gasoline and then setting his remains afire, leaving behind a final mash note for the police to find, suggesting to Sally he has committed suicide because she would not acquiesce to be with him. Having accepted the incident as true, Sally returns to New York and marks her debut in ‘Never Say Never.’ Her opening night is given a standing ovation and all seems right. In fact, Jake has returned with the best news yet. He has left Heidi and suggests to Sally they should give their relationship another chance – a twist of fate Sally is ready to embrace.

Ironically, given their renewed love for one another, she encourages him to go on ahead to the after party. Meanwhile, Douglas has sneaked into the deserted theater, murdering its stage manager, Pop (Robert Weil) and Sally’s costume girl with a knife.  Cornered by Douglas in her dressing room, Sally manages a momentary escape, frantically racing backstage, hiding in doorways, and grabbing hold of a riding crop – a prop from the show – to assault Douglas as he approaches for the last time. Striking him on the cheek, and leaving a sizable welt, Sally incurs Douglas’ full wrath. He seizes her by the hair and repeatedly whips her with the riding crop. However, at the last, he cannot bring himself to kill the woman he has professed to love – holding her at knife point, but burying his face against her shoulder, begging for her love. In reply, Sally coolly forces the knife into Douglas’ throat.  We cut away, and then, to a shot of Douglas, propped in one of the theater seats, his dead gaze directed center stage as an emotionally drained and forlorn Sally stumbles out of the theater for help. Rather ominously, we hear Douglas’ voice over from beyond the grave, addressing his first correspondence to Sally - “Dear Miss Ross, I have finally worked up enough courage to write you. You do not know me, but who I am does not matter. If there is such a thing as a soul, which is the basis of all life...then you are my soul. And your life is my life. This is the first letter of what I hope will be an everlasting correspondence. Your greatest fan, Douglas Breen.”

At the time of its release, The Fan could only have hoped to tap into the stalker craze that had yet to attain its full-blown aperture of public notoriety – the most notorious cases in real-life celebrity stalking then – the untimely assassination of John Lennon in Dec. 1980, and, the attempted assassination of President Ronald Reagan in March 1981 – perpetuated by John Hinckley Jr. in his warped obsession with actress, Jodie Foster.  In years yet to follow, the terrorizing of One Life To Live’s soap star, Andrea Evans, and, brutal murder of TV sitcom player, My Sister Sam’s Rebecca Schaeffer would shed new light on this deadly crime of passion and obsession, harbored by some toward the rich and famous. But in 1981, The Fan ought to have seemed new, if, an anomaly going against the norm. In fact, it played without much notoriety or fanfare; Paramount, attempted to market it as a classy thriller, belying the fact they had already banked everything on a slasher movie. Thus, the movie - as promoted - and the one to emerge on movie screens were diametric opposites. In the aftermath of its box office implosion, Michael Biehn’s agent telephoned him with apologies. The Fan would not be the movie to make him a star. Inadvertently, however, it brought Biehn to the attention of film-maker, James Cameron, then searching for a young man to be cast in his low-budget sci-fi flick: The Terminator (1984). The overwhelming success of that movie led to Biehn being cast again by Cameron in Aliens (1986) – decidedly a very good ‘second act’ for Biehn’s career. Of the cast in The Fan, Biehn offers the most genuine and haunting performance. Anna Maria Horsford too would find brief success on TV’s charming sitcom, Amen (1986-91), costarring Sherman Hemsley, while Hector Elizondo has appeared in numerous TV and film roles since, regrettably, always in support of other stars while never becoming one himself. Talented man. Someone should give him the chance!

The Fan effectively ended Bacall’s chances to work in the movies as a leading lady. Indeed, her performance in The Fan is ‘phoned in’ at best. Given Bacall’s strengths were not as a musical/comedy star, the Broadway milieu that her alter ego Sally Ross finds herself in for the film’s finale – a big, bloated musical revue, choreographed by Arlene Phillips as a faux Fosse-esque fantasia, more hellbent on raunch than high style – is a real head-scratcher.  Yes, Bacall had made a splash on Broadway in Applause, the musical reboot of All About Eve. But the songs in that show never strained her limited range. The Marvin Hamlisch ditties in The Fan have been written with a real show-stopping musical diva in mind: Broadway’s Tammy Grimes or the movies’ Debbie Reynolds: two immediate names to come to mind.  Bacall attacks Hamlisch’s ‘A Remarkable Woman’ with an air of flamboyantly gay camp, cavorting amid a cavalcade of gyrating gigolos and tap-happy tarts, obviously to have seen A Chorus Line one too many times.  But Bacall is virtually tone deaf as she croaks, ‘Hearts, Not Diamonds’ – Hamlisch’s melancholy ballad that closes this show within a show. Frankly, it is one of the saddest observations: Bacall – that smoldering sexpot of the forties, whose ship has obviously since sailed without her – unable to rise, even to the level of mediocrity in this trivial score; instead, to bludgeon every last refrain with an obscene punctuation of its lyrics, as though to be crying out for the audience to adore her one last time. Even Gloria Swanson’s Norma Desmond from Sunset Boulevard (1950), mad as a hatter as she was, had better sense than this.     

And then there is Bianchi’s direction to critique, or rather – criticize. In fairness to Bianchi, he came to this party second best, diving into the deep end of the creative pool with a headstrong resolve to give Stigwood what he wanted. The first half of The Fan is unevenly paced, though nevertheless serviceable as Bianchi clumsily parallels the lives of Douglas and Sally – their inner loneliness, manifesting itself in different ways. It all works, up to a point. Alas, suddenly – and quite inexplicably – Bianchi begins to rely on repeated fade-to-blacks to transition from one vignette to the next, often with interminably long blackouts to separate the scenes; some, dissolving right in the middle of a bit of dialogue and, otherwise, to make no earthly – even cinematic – sense, when backing onto the scene yet to follow it. Apparently, Bianchi has forgotten a ‘fade to black’ in the movies is meant to punctuate the passage of a considerable amount of time – days, weeks, months – not simply, as a means to create connective tissue in a narrative where, otherwise, none exists. Add to this the fact Priscilla Chapman and John Hartwell’s screenplay never explains how Douglas, having followed David Branum into a public pool at the YMCA during peak hours of operation, and with a room full of spectators to bear witness, manages to swim undetected beneath his intended victim, disemboweling David in the water, and then effortlessly getting away, and, well – The Fan quite simply degenerates into a forgettable bit of schlock and nonsense, hardly worth your time. I would not even recommend this one for Bacall completionists. It’s that bad!

Shout!/Scream Factory’s Blu-ray release of The Fan is below par. I suppose we should be grateful Paramount Home Video is finally parceling off their vintage catalog to third-party distributors after a period of some absence altogether from the hi-def video marketplace. However, it is hard to get excited about this 1080p transfer, obviously derived from elements digitally archived more than a decade ago, and, without the benefit of even basic image stabilization and/or clean-up. The Fan on Blu-ray is a gritty, dull and problematic affair. For starters, colors are anemic and contrast, while generally good, lacks the punch we have come to expect from better digital mastering efforts. Worse, there is a lot of light breathing around the edges of the screen, especially during scenes shot at night or in the dark. On these occasions, grain levels are exaggerated to distracting levels, all but breaking apart the image. Close-ups reveal a good amount of fine detail, but long and medium shots suffer from an interminable ‘soft’ characteristic that has absolutely nothing to do with the diffusion filters on Dick Bush’s camera lens. The image is also quite often out of focus. Bacall’s finale in Never Say Never is a muddy, hazy, blur, given to eye strain. Fine details are lost in excessive grain, looking digitized rather than indigenous to its source. Minor gate weave and wobble exists. The opening credits have minute traces of edge enhancement. Overall, an effort unworthy of Paramount and Shout! The 2.0 DTS mono is adequate, with no surprises and no hiss or pop either. Shout! pads out the extras with 3 engaging ‘interview’ pieces: the first, featuring Michael Biehn, the second, director, Ed Bianchi, and the last, with editor, Alan Heim. We also get an audio commentary from director, David DeCoteau and historian, David DeValle. Of the extras, the commentary is the most spirited. DeValle and DeCoteau are obviously having a whale of a time tearing apart the movie’s oddities and absurdities as a subversive touchstone in ‘gay’ cinema.  Frankly, their reflections were more entertaining than the movie. We also get a theatrical trailer, TV spots and a stills gallery. Bottom line: The Fan is audaciously out of touch. Even for its time, it had little to offer. Today, the best that can be inferred is that it remains a relic from a different time, half-baked, and badly undernourished. Pass, and be very glad that you did!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best

0

VIDEO/AUDIO

2

EXTRAS

3