Black Sunday

In the 1970s Hollywood truly went global in its storytelling.  The demise of the studio system and its canned reality inspired filmmakers to work on a much larger scale, both narratively and budgetarily.  Hijackings, bombings and bloody coups abroad were finally being reflected on the big screen.  John Frankenheimer followed up his downer sequel to The French Connection with another international threat inspired by the tragic events during the Munich Olympics.  Black Sunday (1977) poses the now all-too-plausible possibility of a terrorist attack at a major American entertainment venue – in this case, Super Bowl X.  

 

In a weak moment, Israeli agent Kabakov (Robert Shaw) lets a female member of the Palestinian terrorist group Black September slip through the cracks during a raid.  He comes to regret that decision when that she recruits an unstable Vietnam vet (Bruce Dern) to pilot the Goodyear blimp on a kamikaze mission during the big game.  While the FBI works to uncover the plot , Kabakov employs his own methods to rectify his professional mistake.

 

Based on Thomas Harris’ novel (the man later responsible for Red Dragon and The Silence of the Lambs), the film’s script glosses over most of Black September’s motivations to focus on threat at hand.  The final act is an impressive bit of disaster-porn staging, shot during an actual Super Bowl (Steelers vs. Cowboys) with cast members racing around on the field during the game.  Frankenheimer cuts it all together masterfully with minimal dialogue and some terrific stunts, backed up by a John Williams score that knows when to get loud.

 

But, other than that terrific final half hour, Black Sunday is a piece of seriously conflicted filmmaking.  Is it a spy movie?  Political thriller?  Melodrama?  Or Irwin Allen rip-off?  The film wants to have it all, but winds up tugging itself in too many directions.  Bruce Dern gets plenty of showy opportunities to make his character sympathetic despite his act of domestic terrorism.  And Robert Shaw’s icy glare is just as intimidating as it was in Jaws two years earlier.  But Frankenheimer’s film simply feels like it should be taking this all more seriously…or perhaps that’s just the perspective forced upon it in a post 9/11 world. 

 

Arrow Video has put together a terrific package for a film that’s been ignored for far too long.  Besides the restored audio and video, there’s a brand-new commentary by film scholar Josh Nelson, a visual essay that provides context for the genre, an hour-long episode of The Directors focused on Frankenheimer and illustrated collector’s booklet.

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