Nightmare in Chicago

The first and last time I ever saw "Nightmare in Chicago" was back in 1971, on New York' s Channel 9 (WOR-TV back then). I was seven -yes, seven!- years old when I watched it with my younger brother (my parents were busy playing a game of Parchese on the kitchen table after dinner, oblivious to the kind of "kiddie show" we were watching) and I still remember it vividly, some parts more than others. The multi-car pile up caused by Phillip Abott's psychotic character Georgey-Porgie was definitely a winner. The fact that Porgie wore shades at night invigorated his morbid nature even more - boy did Altman really outdo himself with this classic crime-and-suspense piece! It puzzles me how such a masterpiece has not made it to video, particularly at this day and age...I hope to God the original film hasn't been compromised and lost!!

I cannot believe this movie has fallen into complete obscurity - never available on VHS or DVD here or abroad - the only place I could find it was as a $15 bootleg on ebay (it was worth every penny). The movie is really an accomplished piece of work. Director Altman shot most of the movie at night on location in the dark Chicago alleyways, highways, and desolate Illinois highway overpass "oases." The daytime scenes were shot in cheap industrial sepia tones that give even those scenes a creepy home-movie feeling (similar to "Last House on the Left"). As a resident of Chicago, I believe the movie caught the feel of the area terrifically.

This appears to be one of the first serial killer films which portray events from the point-of-view of the murderer. Though I can be a jaded viewer of films like this, the entire movie held me hypnotized by its eeriness, and I really couldn't believe I was watching a movie made in 1964 - it seemed way ahead of its time, in both its subject matter and technique. It has the aura of a strange experimental film (many of Altman's peak '70s films were virtually experimental films with big budgets and studio backing), yet the experiment is a complete success.

The only real drawback to the movie is a parallel plot thread following a government nuclear missile convoy on the tri-state highway that coincides with the female murder victims. This storyline probably ratcheted up the Cold War-era tension and paranoia in viewers when the movie was released in 1964, but it seems a bit dated now. Beyond that, the movie seems as fresh today as it probably was in '64.

A historical footnote: the composer is billed as "Johnny Williams", who is actually none-other than the prolific film composer John Williams, composer of "Star Wars" and countless Spielberg films. This was one of his first composing gigs, and his music even then had what would become his trademark orchestral feel.

With the critical acclaim Altman has received in the 40 years since this movie was released (he must have been a relative unknown back then), it really baffles the mind that this minor masterpiece has hardly been seen since. I felt true excitement after watching this for the first time, and felt compelled to write a review here - the film is a lost treasure from one of the greatest American filmmakers of the past half century, and it is just begging for a proper DVD release with a commentary by Altman on his experiences putting it together.

I've been hoping this would be released on one format or another ever since I watched it on TV in 1974, when I thought it the equal of anything Fellini, Godard, or Antonioni had produced. Of course, I was 18 years old at the time and high on acid, and had yet to see the films of Fellini, Godard, & Antonioni but to this day I am convinced that Altman really broke the crime genre mold with this one. Ted Knight is a revelation as a beleaguered authority figure, displaying acting chops apart from what we would associate with the pompous clown Ted

Baxter. I would love to see this again. My recollection is that it was full of textural details and was truly creepy.

I had read a positive review of "Nightmare in Chicago" in Steven Scheuer's Movies on TV Guide in the mid-1970s and became interested in seeing it, finally doing so in the early '80s although it was even then in chopped-up form on commercial television. I still liked it a lot. I hadn't seen it again and in fact could not find it anywhere on video for about two decades. Then just a few years ago I found one guy in Canada who had taped the movie years before from one of those edited broadcasts, but he missed taping the opening titles. I ordered it anyway because I was curious as to whether the quality would hold up over time, and perhaps the best indicator of a good film, it did live up to my positive memory of it. That very week, I discovered that the office next to mine was going to be occupied by director Robert Altman's production company Sandcastle. Through casual interaction with people working for him and a few elevator rides with Mr. Altman himself, I brought up this film of his that I had been looking for for a long time, learning that he also did not have a copy of the film. So that week I was able to supply him with one, although minus the opening. It seemed I was meant to do that for him.

In this TV movie directed by Robert Altman, a serial killer (Philip Abbott) has left a trail of victims across several states, but the police have tracked him to the Chicago area. As they attempt to catch him during frigid winter weather, officials are also concerned about a convoy transporting a nuclear weapon passing through the city, as well. .

Director Altman had started out making industrial short films before making a couple of low budget indies (The Delinquents and The James Dean Story) in 1957. Then for the next 7 years he honed his craft directing dozens of episodes of various shows. One such was an episode of Kraft Suspense Theater, which was later expanded a bit and released as this feature. I thought it was slightly dull, despite John Williams' score that insisted more was happening than what I was seeing. Abbott was an unusual casting choice as the killer, and he's pretty good. There's a lot of bureaucratic hand-wringing and procedural stuff, which reminded me of Altman's next feature film, 1967's Countdown.