If anyone had told me six years ago, when I picked up the in descript box for Francis Ford Coppola’s 1974 film The Conversation, that I had discovered the film that has unwaveringly stood atop my list of most beloved films ever since, I would have laughed. In fact, I dreaded watching this film, at the time. The title, plot synopsis, and the VHS box artwork of a grainy, silhouetted illustration of Gene Hackman wearing headphones and a pair of somewhat humanoid figures drawn to resemble Cindy Williams and Frederick Forester left much to be desired. The only reason I had begun what seemed to be a mammoth undertaking at the time was because it was required viewing for the introductory film studies course I was enrolled in at the time. The first hour and half were a laborious task that required my highest level of perseverance. I kept on thinking to myself, what the hell is this? Why the hell am I watching, Gene Hackman’s, Harry Caul visit a professional surveillance person’s conference? Harrison Ford bakes his own Christmas cookies? But, in the final fifteen minutes, I had an epiphany. The previous hour and forty minutes all became clear and I knew that I was experiencing a film that was truly brilliant. This may have been the most purely unbiased and completely neutral film viewing I have experienced. I knew no one who had heard of The Conversation, no one to tell me it was a great movie or that it was terrible and boring. I suppose, if you are reading this than you will never have that kind of experience with this film. At any rate, I think this is a perfect film.
The Conversation was the film that Coppola directed in between The Godfather and The Godfather II. According to legend, the story for The Conversation first came to Coppola in the mid-sixties but it was not until he had the huge financial and critical success of the first Godfather film that he was able to finance the film. The Conversation is a character examination of Harry Caul, a socially withdrawn ace surveillance professional who’s personal and professional mantra is that other people’s business is none of his business (and likewise he protects every aspect of his life from the scrutiny of others). Harry is tasked to record the conversation between a young couple that have met in a busy San Francisco square. What starts as a partially garbled relatively asinine conversation taken from several elaborate sound recording devices based in sniper rifle microphones and microphones hidden in common ordinary objects like brief cases and shopping bags, comes together in Harry’s capable hands. However, the final recording reveals that someone may be in mortal danger. Harry must decide if he is going to act upon what he knows.
The genius of this film mainly lies in the fact that we experience everything from Harry’s point of view, or more accurately what he hears. We follow him explicitly through the initial process of recording this conversation, through the construction of the final tape and it’s revelation’s aftermath. The conversation is played over and over again; each time we hear it, we get an additional spin on how Harry is interpreting it. Sound is everything in this picture, and I would be remiss if I did not give full props to the great Walter Murch and his brilliant sound design which drives the film through it’s labyrinthine examination of Harry Caul’s life and the downward spiral it takes as a result of this conversation. Just as Harry unscrambles the previously inaudible portions of this conversation, the audience learns more about Harry himself, and the secure world where his privacy is fiercely protected is slowly obliterated.
In my mind, the reason this film stands out so much in Coppola’s 1970s renaissance, is due to the fact that is so different from the Godfather films and Apocalypse Now. The Conversation is an exercise in minimalism. The story is a simple one. There is no gratuitous violence. The sets and cinematography, although used very intentionally to illustrate Harry’s psychological state, do not call attention to themselves. The score is made up of a simple yet haunting tune on the piano. The performances are subdued, especially Gene Hackman’s.
Gene Hackman has easily become one of my all time favorite actors, because of his performance as Harry Caul. In contrast to some of the other more bombastic roles that I had become accustomed to seeing Hackman in, Harry Caul is all about restraint and stoicism. He let’s no one in. Once his veneer starts to crack instead of acting out in an emotional or explosive way, his anxiety and shame play out in his face. He regresses to the young, weak child he once was. It is a revelation to see Hackman go through this transformation and the subtly he brings to it. The supporting cast featuring Robert Duvall, Teri Garr, John Cazale, Frederic Forrest, Harrison Ford and Cindy Williams are similarly fantastic.
If you are a lover of film I highly recommend watching The Conversation. It seems like a chore at first but it really does have an outstanding pay-off in the end. If you are interested in Walter Murch and his editing work, I would highly recommend The Conversations: Walter Murch and the Art of Editing Film by Michael Ondaatje.
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