Brewster McCloud (1970)

Some movies simply defy description. So it is with this 1970 cult classic from director Robert Altman, a multifaceted offering that combines a diverse array of seemingly unrelated, but skillfully blended story threads that make for a quirky, thoroughly entertaining offering. In essence, this comical, surreal crime saga follows the investigation into a series of mysterious strangling deaths taking place in and around the Houston Astrodome, where the only clue is that the victims are covered in bird droppings. The primary suspect, Brewster McCloud (Bud Cort), is an ornithologically obsessed recluse who lives in the stadium’s fallout shelter, where he works on constructing a set of wings that he plans to use to fly away – literally – not just to evade capture, but also, metaphorically speaking, to escape the increasingly debilitating constraints humanity has placed on itself, conditions akin to what we have done to the surrounding environment, including the fellow creatures who continue to struggle inhabiting it (namely, in this case, birds). As the story unfolds, viewers are introduced to an ensemble of colorful characters (portrayed by performers who were largely unknown at the time) who are part of Brewster’s world, such as Louise (Sally Kellerman), an enigmatic protector/guardian angel of sorts, and a pair of would-be romantic interests, Suzanne (Shelley Duvall) and Hope (Jennifer Salt), in hot pursuit of the virginal Brewster. In pursuit of the perpetrator are a super-cool super-sleuth, Frank Shaft (Michael Murphy), and his bumbling sidekick, Officer Johnson (John Schuck), a team assembled by opportunistic politician Haskell Weeks (William Windom). This unlikely pair is charged with unmasking the murderer of such victims as prominent, bigoted, right-wing socialite Daphne Heap (Margaret Hamilton), dirty narcotics cop Detective Douglas Breen (Bert Remsen) and wealthy, elderly, misogynistic real estate greed monger Abraham Wright (Stacy Keach). And, to add “perspective” to this story, the narrative is regularly commented upon by an eccentric ornithology lecturer (Rene Auberjonois) who undergoes an unusual evolution of his own as the film plays out. If this sounds like a bizarre combination of elements, you’d certainly be correct, but, in its own strange way, it works, with ample subtle humor, as well as plenty of laugh-out-loud bits, many of which are hilarious send-ups of movie tropes from the period. Chief among these is a raucously funny car chase sequence that spoofs a comparable segment featured in the intense San Francisco detective drama, “Bullitt” (1968). While it’s true that some of the material here is a bit dated (and likely couldn’t be included in contemporary productions in today’s politically correct filmmaking culture), “Brewster McCloud” is nevertheless a one-of-a-kind project from one of filmdom’s most singularly creative auteurs. It’s a production that’s difficult to categorize yet impossible to forget, one that’s well worth a look for cinephiles who appreciate the absurd, macabre and eminently amusing. This picture definitely won’t appeal to everyone, but those who enjoy inventive, off-the-wall releases will find this a thoroughly delightful gem.