by The Fluffer
Robert Altman’s 1970 ode to bird poo
When Robert Altman finally hit the big time with M*A*S*H* in 1970, it was off the back of more than two decades of constant effort. He’d tried to make it in Hollywood after World War Two, sold scripts but forced to go home to Kansas to crank out corporates, eventually cracked television, and became highly regarded in that sphere, which led to features (Countdown, That Cold Day in the Park), but none quite broke through until M*A*S*H* turned him into the hottest director in town. Altman promptly set about blowing his chips on Brewster McCloud, a notorious flop from MGM, during that studio’s peak flop era.
Brewster McCloud has always been something of a bastard child for Altman aficionados – while no one puts in in the bottom cellar of, say, OC and Stiggs, Quintet and Beyond Therapy, it’s definitely not regarded as one of his unarguable classics (Nashville, McCabe and Mrs Miller, The Player, Gosford Park) or even his more contested efforts (The Company, Images, 3 Women). The public stayed away in droves, critics were not kind, and people still get fired up about the movie – for instance, Quentin Tarantino called Brewster McCloud “one of the worst movies to ever carry a studio logo.”
We totally get why the film did not succeed at the box office, but Brewster McCloud is actually a lot of fun and incredibly stimulating to watch.
To those unaware, the movie revolves around a young recluse named Brewster McCloud (played by Bud Cort of Harold and Maude fame), who lives in a fallout shelter under the Houston Astrodome, where he is building a pair of wings in order to fly. He becomes a chief suspect in a series of bird-related murders.
That synopsis sounds easy enough to follow, but the actual film itself is far more bonkers – you’ve got Rene Auberjonois giving lectures about birds, Sally Kellerman as a fallen angel following Bud Cort around, a lot of Houston people spouting racist/homophobic slurs, bird shit constantly falling out of the sky, Michael Murphy as a cop sending up Steve McQueen (but called Shaft), Stacy Keach in old age make up, Shelley Duvall (in her debut) as a tour guide who falls for Brewster, Marilyn Burns (Texas Chain Saw Massacre) as another tour guide, New Hollywood icon Jennifer Salt as a groupie, riffs on The Wizard of Oz and 8 ½ as well as Greek mythology.
It’s consistently inventive and weird (not so surprising) with an emotionally powerful climax (more surprising). The cast is littered with charismatic players – Kellerman, Duvall and Cort all have X factor, everyone else is excellent. And because only racists are killed, the death toll isn’t disturbing.
It would be hard to find a movie more utterly New Hollywood than Brewster McCloud – the fact that it starred someone who looked like Bud Cort, for instance, or introduced someone like Shelley Duvall, or that the producer was record magnate Lou Adler (The Rocky Horror Picture Show), or that the original screenwriter (Doran William Cannon) also wrote Skidoo. Even the fact that it was financed by MGM during its peak flop phase, where it kept changing owners and managers, ultimately winding up under James Aubrey. Having said that, the murder mystery component gives the film a narrative tightness (well, sort of) that is helpful.
Brewster McCloud is one of those movies that you should absolutely watch – you’ll either hate it or have a great time. It’s very hard to sit on the fence with it.
