It was during my senior year of high school that I first laid eyes on Alex Cox's Repo Man, and God knows I've never been the same. After my first viewing I wasn't really sure what to make of the picture. It was either one of weirdest masterpieces I had yet to see, or it was complete and utter bullshit. I watched it three more times and decided on the former. The movie, as strange as it is, has more thematic texture than most, and it announced Alex Cox as a new visionary, a filmmaker with a punk rock attitude that wasn't all for show. You could tell it was in his bones. His movies aren't always easy to like. I think I was a fan of Sid and Nancy immediately after seeing it, but the same cannot be said for Straight to Hell and Revenger's Tragedy. Having a rebellious streak can be quite dangerous for a filmmaker, because you often worry that they might eventually run out of steam. I have not seen all of Cox's pictures, so I can't rightfully say if that has happened to him. However, I can say that there are few filmmakers in the last twenty plus years who have shown bigger balls. Cox's 1987 movie Walker is a case and point.
Cox teamed up with screenwriter Rudy Wurlitzer (Two-Lane Blacktop) to make a picture that blasted President Reagan's attack on Nicaragua, and it seemed like the idea was to do it in the least conventional way. They found the bizarre true account of William Walker, who led a group of mercenaries into Nicaragua in the mid 1800's and took control. Walker believed that Manifest Destiny gave him the right to do so, even if it meant not honoring his word and stepping on the toes of every person who had helped him rise to the top.
Cox and Wurlitzer both had made movies at Universal Pictures, although their relationships with the studio had been less than memorable. Imagine their surprise when they were able to shoot the picture for $5.6 million, and actually film in Nicaragua during the middle of a war. The end result was not what Universal had signed up for, leading to the movie being buried and the critics burning the movie at the journalistic stake. On the Criterion DVD, you can sense that Cox was upset that the movie was rejected by the press, but he hasn't let it get him down. Walker has gained a substantial following since then, mostly due to how it revels in breaking the rules. The movie turned out to be a big "fuck you" to the studio that released it.
As someone who lost faith in biopics a long time ago, Walker is a breath of fresh air. The movie could have been played very run-of-the-mill, but Cox felt it was best to let his rebellious spirit shine through. This is one of the most merciless satires I have ever seen, as it attempts to make its anti-hero into just the opposite by giving him unrelenting determination. His actions, and the actions of his men, are beyond absurd, which makes the whole affair unpredictably hilarious when it should be downright disturbing. Not to say what Walker did wasn't upsetting, but it's presented as if the movie is one step away from making fun of itself.
Walker is portrayed by Ed Harris, an intense actor who gets to turn the volume up to eleven. It's a performance for the ages, highlighted by Harris's wide eyed stare and a vein in his forehead that is constantly preparing to burst. As the picture opens, Walker and his men are tearing up a Mexican town. Cox shoots the action for maximum effect, complete with spraying blood and slow motion deaths. An "act of God" gets them through the whole thing, since Walker feels it is his God given right to be there. Back at home and on trial, he convinces a jury there was a rational reason for all the people he killed. Cornelious Vanderbilt (an ultra nutty Peter Boyle), arguably the wealthiest man in the world at the time, propositions Walker to go into Nicaragua and claim it for the United States.
Walker is chosen not necessarily because he is the best man for the job, but more so for his raw determination. We see this once he and his team enter the country and are met with gunfire. While the mercenaries try to defend themselves, Walker walks straight on through as if his reason for being there makes him incapable of being hit by a bullet. As his men fall, they are confused by his lack of support. In Walker's eyes, human casualties play a part in making his dream come true.
It's little details like the one just mentioned that make Walker effective and one-of-a-kind. Cox fills most every frame with insane imagery, particularly once Walker gains the success his so desperately hungers. The movie is like a confusing dream in which we wake up and wonder what just happened. Much of the picture is shot that way. Primary cinematographer (many others are credited) David Bridges turns the Nicaraguan landscape into a Hell on Earth, and his most effective lighting is used on the closeups of Harris's face. By incorporating a deep red, Walker, even with his sharp blue eyes, looks like an incarnation of the devil.
Because Cox is trying to make a statement about what was going on in Nicaragua at the time, he throws in a lot of modern elements. The dialogue is something you might hear if you were to stop reading right now and walk onto the street, especially when it comes to the vulgar names the characters spew at each other. Also thrown into the mix are magazines (Time and Newsweek), brand name cigarettes, and a car (!). The movie has a blast toying with its audience, moving at such a quick pace we cannot fathom what will pop up on screen next. It's exhausting really, but Cox never loses control and it never loses sight of its message. Just because you come from the most powerful nation in the world does not give you the right to take what's not yours and think you can make it better.
It would be criminal for me to not mention the brilliant score by The Clash's Joe Strummer. Every scene sounds like something out of a demented spaghetti western, which Walker's visual look definitely mirrors. The music is used to best effect during the movie's (many) violent scenes, as it is much more cheerful than you would ever anticipate. And yet it's perfect. Walker is so far removed from anything resembling reality that it feels right at home. It often functions like theme music.
Walker is a work of manic genius. Cox has made a spectacularly angry movie, one that is sometimes hard to swallow but equally impossible to forget. It's easy to see why so many resisted it (many were turned off by the bloody violence and the unlikable characters). Part of its appeal lies on just how topical it still is. A scene that wasn't in the original script involving a dying Guatemalan citizen thanking America for coming in and saving his people sums it all up. It's rare to see a movie that is able to throw politics at you while at the same time presenting it in a way you've never seen or thought you were going to see. Cox knew he was crafting something (in essence) unpleasant, so the real victory is the fact he was able to pull it off the way he wanted to.
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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008
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