Gene Hackman and Al Pacino are a pair of tramps in 1973's Scarecrow, a film that largely rides on their performances. Well, Vilmos Zsigmond's cinematography is gorgeous but, despite a few interesting ideas, the film never quite wholly satisfies.
Hackman was a big guy and it seems most of his roles didn't really take advantage of it. Here, he plays an ex-con named Max, wandering the roads with a pipe dream about opening a car wash. He seems like pleasant enough company but slowly you start to realise that, in most conversations, he's trying to start a fight, something his powerful physique allows him to successfully do. The film gets its title from a sort of joke Pacino's character, Francis, tells him about how crows aren't afraid of scarecrows--they actually find them quite funny and so do the farmers the favour of leaving their crops alone in exchange for the entertainment. Max laughs in what seems like appreciation before remarking on what a stupid idea it is. Francis has the deer in headlights look of someone who's not used to the twists in conversation a compulsive bully might employ.
The two are an effective double act; Max always spoiling for a fight and Francis persisting in his friendliness. The two get brief jobs and meet women on their journey from California to Pittsburgh, most memorably a horny southern woman called Frenchy (Ann Wedgeworth).
The climax of the film calls for an intense performance from Pacino, and he rises to the occasion. There's kind of a Man Who Shot Liberty Valance spirit to the film about the value of peace and human connexion in a world that seems to inevitably demand violence.
Scarecrow is available on The Criterion Channel this month as part of a celebration of the late Gene Hackman.
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