For director Sam Peckinpah, violence was inseparable from life; it can never be eliminated from human society but should be tamped down if society is to function. In The Wild Bunch (1969), Peckinpah shot the western genre he knew so well full of holes and left the casualties to bleed. When accused of raising the toll of death and mayhem on screen, he could say the movement toward the graphic depiction of violence was already underway without him. And while Peckinpah seemed at times to revel in the bloodshed, there was always a larger point at play. In Straw Dogs (1971), it was the imperative of resisting violence, to fight fire with a flamethrower if necessary, and to always be (or at least appear) tough. The bullies might be less temped to choose you for sport. Maybe if Neville Chamberlain looked more like Vladimir Putin, Hitler would have backed down at Munich?
Straw Dogs is out on Blu-ray and the earth tones of its early '70s color cinematography (seen here in pristine clarity) are in keeping with the setting. The film takes place in a bleak stretch of British countryside, far from England's green and pleasant land. Dustin Hoffman stars as David Sumner, an American math professor with a grant to study something arcane and otherworldly, apparently in an effort to escape the turmoil on U.S. campuses during the era. He sought the peace, quiet and fresh air of the village where his English wife Ann (Susan George) had grown up.
The psychological complexity of the characters gradually unfolds during a film in no hurry to reach its blood-splattered climax. David and Anne make a sexy couple, yet he finds her (with good reason) childish and petulant. For her part, Ann upbraids him (not without reason) for spinelessness. He dithers. She's something of a tease, even going bare breasted for a few seconds before the leering eyes of the local lads. Embers of old lust haven't died between her and one of the boys, and it's not entirely clear if she wouldn't welcome his savage hands over David's cerebral impracticality. The lads, who increasingly resemble country cousins of the drooges from A Clockwork Orange, get a good laugh when David enters the wrong door for driving his car and has trouble working the stick. Snickers erupt at the pub when he orders scotch with ice.
The unease in Straw Dogs mounts slowly, aided by acute crosscutting and a command of the classic virtues of a good screenplay where everything significant is foreshadowed. Today's audience may wonder about the film's dismissive attitude toward women, but Straw Dogs reflects its time, not ours. And after all, the final shock for audiences in 1971 was when a woman fired the final gunshot.
