Roman Polanski steers a film along in one location or kind of place with just a few characters like it's nobody's business. He's one of the most brilliant at it, at being able to veer away from making things static and stagey just like the chamber pieces Knife in the Water or Death and the Maiden. Cul-de-sac is no exception, but it also has the distinction of being one of Polanski's comedies- however here, perhaps, it's the most successful and masterful of them all (albeit the others I can recall are Fearless Vampire Killers and Pirates, which are good but lessor works) because of his trust in the purely existential horror of the situation. I was laughing to the kind of harrowingly funny situations the characters would get into, or the strange awkwardness of such things as a little kid wielding a shotgun and cursing or watching poor Jack MacGowran stuck with a bullet in his belly in the getaway car as it slowly sinks in the coming tide.
But lest not forget that as with many other Polanski films, for all of his own ferocious and oddly subtle command of a lens (most notable is the 7-minute long take on the beach which is only fluid inasmuch as the characters slightly move about in the setting), the performances catapult it into uncharted territory of eccentricity and brilliance. Lionel Stander, for one, gives maybe one of his definitive performances in a career of minor character actor parts (i.e. "you might remember me as Barman in Once Upon a Time in the West), characterized by his gravely voice and quintessential tough-guy-noir face and demeanor, playing one of the criminals taking over and hiding out in the 11th century castle of Donald Pleasance and Francoise Dorleac. Pleasance and Dorleac are also perfectly cast as seeming caricatures (Pleasance's George as the meek and mild-mannered retired worker and Dorleac as his dripping-with-French-sexy-and-slightly-crazy wife) who peel back layers of their characters as it goes along. At the least, it should be noted, it's an incredible career highlight for the underrated Pleasance and an intriguing and nasty turn from Dorleac.
Cul-de-sac is a howler of a black comedy, with pitch black jokes involving a dead body and his burial, the untimely arrival of a bunch of George's bourgeois friends, and ending in a crazy purging freak-out from George. Sometimes single lines stand out (Stander delivering "Mental retiring or something" is classic), or just a sudden physical motion, and Polanski is always there to add some taut level or even claustrophobia. But what is richest of all in the film is the implications on the human capacity for choice and cruelty. Throughout George is made a point of ridicule, mostly by his own wife, for not being manly enough to stand up to this grater-voiced thug and is not helped by him first appearing- as a funny/personal in-joke between husband and wife- in lipstick and a dress, and we see both his entire spectrum of personality and psychology along with the wife and Richard (poor MacGowran, as mentioned, is relegated mostly to being laid out on a table pontificating as a yin to Richard's yang).
If there could be a word to apply to what unravels in Cul-de-sac morbid would probably be the one to use in describing the bulk of the picture. And Polanski, no stranger to morbidity, transforms his picture into a bizarre, troubling and, very morbid and complex examination of what lies beneath a simple film-noir; it's very funny, very tragic, and satisfying as 60s cinema could get. Only drawback: lack of decent prints in the USA and lack of access to videos make it near impossible to see the picture as originally intended or in good condition. Thankfully, it's so good that one can forgive finding the occasional bootleg with so-so transfer quality.
But lest not forget that as with many other Polanski films, for all of his own ferocious and oddly subtle command of a lens (most notable is the 7-minute long take on the beach which is only fluid inasmuch as the characters slightly move about in the setting), the performances catapult it into uncharted territory of eccentricity and brilliance. Lionel Stander, for one, gives maybe one of his definitive performances in a career of minor character actor parts (i.e. "you might remember me as Barman in Once Upon a Time in the West), characterized by his gravely voice and quintessential tough-guy-noir face and demeanor, playing one of the criminals taking over and hiding out in the 11th century castle of Donald Pleasance and Francoise Dorleac. Pleasance and Dorleac are also perfectly cast as seeming caricatures (Pleasance's George as the meek and mild-mannered retired worker and Dorleac as his dripping-with-French-sexy-and-slightly-crazy wife) who peel back layers of their characters as it goes along. At the least, it should be noted, it's an incredible career highlight for the underrated Pleasance and an intriguing and nasty turn from Dorleac.
Cul-de-sac is a howler of a black comedy, with pitch black jokes involving a dead body and his burial, the untimely arrival of a bunch of George's bourgeois friends, and ending in a crazy purging freak-out from George. Sometimes single lines stand out (Stander delivering "Mental retiring or something" is classic), or just a sudden physical motion, and Polanski is always there to add some taut level or even claustrophobia. But what is richest of all in the film is the implications on the human capacity for choice and cruelty. Throughout George is made a point of ridicule, mostly by his own wife, for not being manly enough to stand up to this grater-voiced thug and is not helped by him first appearing- as a funny/personal in-joke between husband and wife- in lipstick and a dress, and we see both his entire spectrum of personality and psychology along with the wife and Richard (poor MacGowran, as mentioned, is relegated mostly to being laid out on a table pontificating as a yin to Richard's yang).
If there could be a word to apply to what unravels in Cul-de-sac morbid would probably be the one to use in describing the bulk of the picture. And Polanski, no stranger to morbidity, transforms his picture into a bizarre, troubling and, very morbid and complex examination of what lies beneath a simple film-noir; it's very funny, very tragic, and satisfying as 60s cinema could get. Only drawback: lack of decent prints in the USA and lack of access to videos make it near impossible to see the picture as originally intended or in good condition. Thankfully, it's so good that one can forgive finding the occasional bootleg with so-so transfer quality.