Richard Fleischer: Journeyman, by Jason A. Ney
Maybe director Richard Fleischer learned from the example of his father. Max Fleischer, the innovator of early animation behind Betty Boop and Popeye, was pushed aside by the shrewder Walt Disney, who poached his artists and outflanked him. Richard was determined to navigate Hollywood’s treacherous currents while balancing artistic ambition with pragmatism.
As Jason A. Ney shows in his new biography, Fleischer kept his balance for one highly successful decade from his the Oscar-winning documentary Design for Death (1948) through the all-star historical swashbuckler The Vikings (1958). Afterward, his career grew spotty. Somehow, Fleischer managed to survive a trio of expensive duds: Doctor Dolittle (1967), Che! (1969) and Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970).
Disney haunted him. Ney reports that Fleischer’s conscience qualms while working for his father’s nemesis on Disney’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954) were eased when dad said it was OK. Taking on such an expensive project (complete with giant attacking squid and Kirk Douglas’ equally large ego) exemplified the challenges the director was willing take in a career that was linked to no single theme or style. He shot several films noir, including one of the greatest, The Narrow Margin (1952) (little wonder TCM’s Mr. Noir, Eddie Muller, wrote a foreword for Ney’s book). His resume includes a courtroom drama, a domestic comedy, a biblical epic and two of the most artful serial killer films, The Boston Strangler (1968) and 10 Rillington Place (1971).
Despite or perhaps because of his varied productions, Fleischer has not fared well in film history and Ney (with Muller at his side) is out to change that. Ney identifies an “anti-Fleischer cartel” of ‘70s film critics whose embrace of auteur theory led them to diminish the reputation of directors who worked in many modes and lacked an easily identifiable aesthetic. Fleischer, along with many figures from Hollywood’s golden age, were written off as second raters and company men. For the New York Times’ Vincent Canby, Fleischer and many of his contemporaries “represented the artistically compromised assembly-line product of the Hollywood establishment.” The New Yorker’s Pauline Kael derided him. A young Roger Ebert called Fleischer “that prince of mediocrities.” This might have felt right, circa 1970, given the director’s recent, flawed output.
Fleischer comes across in Ney’s account as a skilled people person on set, acutely tuned to the personalities (and quirks) of cast and crew. He directed an enduring cult classic in the twilight of his career, the dystopian science-fiction Soylent Green (1973), but like many filmmakers of his generation, he was left behind by the young creatives who took the helm following the industry-shaking success of Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and Easy Rider (1969).
Richard Fleischer: Journeyman is published by University Press of Kentucky.
