SERPICO: 4K Blu-ray (Paramount, 1973) Kino Lorber
If ever a man was born to
illustrate the maxim, ‘one person can change the world’, it would have
to be Francesco Vincent Serpico whose legendary whistleblowing campaign against
graft and corruption in the NYPD wrought epic revisions to the way ‘business as
usual’ had been conducted behind ‘the blue wall’ ever since. Between the mid-60’s and early 1970s, Serpico
was a plainclothes officer, repeatedly reassigned to work Brooklyn, the Bronx
and Manhattan, exposing vice racketeering. What Serpico discovered instead was
that every level of the department was overrun with dishonesty and exploitation,
presumably, good cops ‘taking their cut’ from busts, informers, pimps and their
like, enjoying ‘perks’ such as free lunches and drinks while on the job. By 1967,
Serpico had had enough. He presented credible evidence to the commission
regarding graft and corruption from within. Despite his best efforts, his findings
were quietly swept under the rug as the machinery at City Hall elected instead
to maintain the status quo. Undaunted, Serpico turned to The New York Times,
publishing a front-page interview in which much of the NYPD’s dirty laundry was
aired for all to read for the very first time. The piece proved a major
embarrassment to those who had tried to keep Serpico silent. It also garnered
national attention, forcing the hand of New York City’s Mayer, John V. Lindsay
to appointed the 5-member Knapp Commission to get to the bottom of things.
Their findings and the fallout from them made Serpico a marked man. Not long
after testifying, Serpico was shot in the face during a routine drug bust,
raising suspicions the bust had been a set-up within the department to assassinate
him. Mercifully, Serpico did not die. But he was never again to work in law enforcement
in the United States.
Vindication for Frank Serpico would
come 2-years later with the release of director, Sidney Lumet’s Serpico
(1973), arguably, the truest biopic ever put on the screen. Whether to judge it
solely for its unapologetic representation of God’s lonely man, seemingly born
to work the streets as an invested crusader for the common good, or to critique
Arthur J. Ornitz’s unvarnished cinematography, capturing the darkness, blight
and urban decay of a New York at its absolute worst epoch, Serpico is an
ugly movie to sit through. Lumet’s modus operandi here is, arguably neither to
entertain nor to educate, but rather to simply peel away at the painful layers
of Frank Serpico’s tortured disillusionment, deprived of all but the most
fleeting sexual pleasure, and never to be at ease in his own skin. Al Pacino,
in an Oscar-nominated performance, is the quintessence of this wrecked and isolated
cop, just trying to maintain his dignity, and, at times, sanity, in a system
determined to repeatedly crush and silence his truth to power.
After Serpico recovered from his near-death
experience, he conspired with author, Peter Maas to chronicle his memoirs. Detective
David Durk, who had also appeared before the Knapp Commission planned to sell
the rights to their story to the movies, a decision Serpico shied away from at
first as he felt any movie based on their work would fast be turned into just
another untruthful and glossy Hollywood actioner. Serpico’s concerns appeared
to be warranted when the property was first shopped to Paul Newman and Robert
Redford – then, riding high on their mutually shared successes in Butch
Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), and, The Sting (1973). Yet, at
this juncture, screenwriter, John Gregory Dunne bowed out, as did director, Sam
Peckinpah, almost immediately followed by Newman and Redford. Enter producer,
Dino De Laurentiis who paid Maas $400,000 for the rights to his book,
approaching friend, Charles Bluhdorn, then president of Gulf+Western (Paramount’s
parent company). Bluhdorn immediately greenlit the project. From here, producer,
Martin Bregman briefly came aboard, suggesting Al Pacino might be right to cast
in the lead. Screenwriter, Waldo Salt was hired to adapt Maas’ prose for the
big screen. But the first draft proved disappointing. So, Salt knuckled down to
produce a second, judged as a vast improvement. De Laurentiis then hired John
G. Avildsen to direct.
Al Pacino was not immediately
hooked, not until he met with Frank Serpico to discuss his motivations and life’s
work. Pacino and Serpico immediately clicked, ensuring he would agree to star
in the film. Alas, Avildsen and Salt clashed on just about every aspect of the
screenplay. Avildsen would continue to make demands, incurring De Laurentiis’
wrath. During a meeting to iron out the kinks, De Laurentiis thought better of
his initial decision and fired Avildsen on the spot. Undaunted, the producer
then turned his attentions to Sidney Lumet to fill the directorial void.
Immersing himself in the work, Pacino held fast to his friendship with Serpico,
gleaning all he could from their frequent get-togethers at a summer house in
Montauk, New York. He even experimented with trying on Serpico’s persona, walking
down some dangerous streets and trying his hand at a citizen’s arrest. Assigned
$3.3 million to make the picture, Lumet dove headstrong into crafting an
intricate tale, applying some artistic license as it spanned 11 years, with 107
speaking parts shot in 104 different locations. Lumet also agreed with Pacino,
while the scenarios depicted were truthful to Serpico’s life, the dialogue was
anemic at best. As such, Pacino and his cohorts were allowed to improvise
dialogue as filming progressed, finding their own truth in the work itself.
As Pacino had grown a full beard
and lengthy tresses to accommodate Serpico’s undercover look for the latter
half of the story. As such, Serpico was shot in reverse, with
appropriate trims made to Pacino’s hairy girth to illustrate the passage of
time. Winter conditions were simulated by defoliating trees and bushes, with
the application of a special make-up to absorb sweat, as Pacino and his cohorts
performed these outdoor scenes, supposedly taking place in the cold, during
sweltering mid-July conditions. Interestingly, given the NYPD’s aversion to the
man, Lumet encountered nothing but total compliance from the department to Serpico
– the movie, afforded access to shoot in four active police stations for total
authenticity. The decision to create a desaturated palette of colors was
deliberate on Lumet’s part as he felt the picture’s storytelling would best be
served by subtler hues and an inherent darkness to linger and creep in from the
peripheries of the screen as Serpico’s world steadily began to unravel on the
screen. Confident he had captured the
mettle of the man on celluloid, Lumet handed over the editing duties to Dede
Allen and eventually agreed to have the picture scored by composer, Mikis
Theodorakis, then, newly released from a prison in Greece, and ultimately, to work
from an atelier in Paris.
Serpico begins in earnest with Theodorakis’
strangely sentimental underscore set against black and white titles. The
picture opens with Frank Serpico being rushed to hospital after being shot in
the face. News of the apparent attempted assassination spreads like wild fire, causing
Chief Sidney Green (John Randolph) to suspect Serpico was set up by his fellow
officers, possibly, even his partner (F. Murray Abraham). As Serpico fades in
and out of consciousness, we retreat in flashback to happier times. A youthful
and optimistic Serpico graduates from the police academy with grandiose notions
of improving the force’s community relations. He dresses in plainclothes to remain inconspicuous
in the neighborhood he is patrolling. This, however, causes Serpico to be
mistaken by fellow officers while he is chasing down a burglar and damn near
gets him shot in the process. Sometime later, Serpico reports a bribe to his
high-ranking investigator (James Bulleit),
who quaintly advises him to take it. Serpico suddenly realizes corruption is socially
accepted by the department.
Obliged to accompany his fellow
officers as they collect payoffs from criminals and small businesses, Serpico
refuses to take his cut of the money. Now, even Serpico’s most empathetic
cohort, Tom Keough (Jack Kehoe) begins to suspect Serpico might be putting the
future of their shared graft in peril. Alas, this corruption goes all the way
to the top. No matter who Serpico talks to, he is rebuffed for his efforts. His
cohorts resent his honesty and Serpico fears for his life. At the same time, he
takes up with two women; first, Leslie (Cornelia Sharpe), a slinky blonde who shops
her new fella around to her fair-weather friends. After breaking the ice,
Serpico is a big hit and, for a time, the couple are happy…until Leslie
announces she has decided to become engaged to somebody else. Thereafter,
Serpico gets involved with Laurie (Barbara Eda-Young) who shares an adjoining
apartment in dilapidated Greenwich Village. Again, for a time, Frank and Laurie
are contented. But very soon the rigors of working on the fringe begin to drive
a wedge between them as Serpico increasingly has difficulties checking his work
stresses at the front door.
Meanwhile, Serpico and his
well-connected friend, Bob Blair (Tony Roberts) go to the mayor's assistant
(Edward Grover), who promises to open a real investigation. This, however, is
also stymied by political pressure. Shunned, discouraged, and concerned for his
safety, Serpico begins brutalizing suspects deemed ‘untouchable’. Serpico then
informs Capt. McClain (Biff McGuire) he has taken matters into his own hands by
reporting his findings to an oversight agency outside the force. Enraged,
McClain snitches on Serpico to his fellow officers. Blair uses his connections
to arrange a personal interview with D.A. Tauber (Allan Rich), who informs
Serpico his testifying to a grand jury will kick start a major investigation. Alas,
this too proves fruitless as during the Q&A, Tauber limits Serpico from
revealing the omnipresence of corruption. Disgusted, Serpico and Blair take
their story to The New York Times. Serpico’s superiors retaliate by assigning
him to a volatile narcotics squad in Brooklyn. During a raid, Serpico's
partners hold back, allowing him to be shot in the face. After an arduous
recovery, Serpico testifies before the Knapp Commission. In an epilogue we
learn Frank Serpico resigned from the NYPD on June 15, 1972. He was awarded the
Medal of Honor (a distinction the real Serpico would later explain in an
interview, meant absolutely nothing, as it was tossed across his desk like a
discarded candy bar, without fanfare or gratitude). Frank Serpico later moved
to Switzerland.
Serpico became a
sizable hit for Paramount, grossing $29.8 million. But it was not
well-received, either by the man, who felt portions of it veered too far from
the truth of his own life, or, the NYPD, particularly Police Commissioner
Michael Codd, who thought the movie made it as though Serpico was the only
honest cop working for the city. Detective
Durk, on whom Bob Blair is based, was also unimpressed, concerned that the dour
finale of the piece would discourage future enrollment in the police force by
suggesting the true price of being an honest cop is martyrdom. Lumet defended
his artistic license and Maas went on the offensive against Durk as Frank Serpico
had been the first officer in the history of the NYPD to step forward and
subsequently testify against systemic corruption payoffs. Since his retirement,
Frank Serpico has remained an outspoken advocate for police reform. His published
interviews on the subject continue to raise eyebrows within the force. He is
still considered a controversial figure by many, but with each passing year,
the blind heroism of his actions has grown in the general public’s estimation.
Serpico arrives on 4K
via Kino Lorber’s alliance with Paramount Pictures. Curious that Paramount
should not have put this one out themselves as part of their ‘Paramount
Presents…’ 4K/Blu-ray line up. Whatever the executive logic herein, Serpico
in 4K illustrates marked improvements over the standard Blu-ray release, also
included herein. This one has been sourced from an original camera negative,
with Dolby Vision/HDR color grading. Color density is considerably improved. Serpico
is a very dark movie, but the 4K handles it - mostly. The image is thick and
grain rich – as it should be. The oddity is that distinct background details are
only intermittently revealed and black crush is often disturbingly present
under limited lighting conditions. Another minor quibble, the Paramount logo,
to precede the picture, looks utterly atrocious, with digital-appearing grain
and a curious loss of light and texture around the upper right side of the
image. There are 2 accompanying audio tracks: original 2.0 DTS mono and a
reimagined 5.1 DTS. Each sounds fine, the 2.0 remarkably nuanced for a mono,
while the 5.1 delivers obvious advantages to the score and SFX. The only extra
on the 4K is a new audio commentary from critics, Howard S. Berger, Steve
Mitchell and Nathaniel Thompson. This is also present on the accompanying
Blu-ray in this set, which additionally includes a half-hour interview with the
late Sidney Lumet, and another half-hour devoted to the real Frank Serpico,
with commentary from NYPD’s Jack J. Cambria, filmmakers, Jerry Schatzberg,
Michael Radford and Jack Garfein. There’s a 10-min. vintage short featuring
producer, Martin Bregman, and another vintage program, running just a little
over 13-mins. with Lumet discussing his working methods. The goodies are
rounded out by two-too short reflections from Bregman and Lumet, a photo
gallery with Lumet’s commentary, and a badly worn trailer. Bottom line: Serpico
remains a sober and incisive biopic. Some 50 years after its release, the change
the real Frank Serpico wrought through sheer blind-faithed fortitude is still
being felt in ripples around the NYPD. The 4K is a mixed bag at best, but
arguably, the best this movie will ever look on home video. Judge and buy
accordingly.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
3.5
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