Killer of Sheep

Around the seventies, when films like Annie Hall, Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and Saturday Night Fever ruled the age, Charles Burnett silently crafted Killer of Sheep, his thesis film for UCLA. Thirty years it has eluded us—that is, until now. The result, although aging those thirty-years, is a masterpiece; an authentic and one of a kind piece of raw American poetry that simply and silently observes life in the Watts ghetto of Los Angeles.

An unshakable and insightful study of citizens living right above the poverty level, Killer of Sheep is both open-ended and observatory. The magnificent fly-on-the-wall observes the life of a slaughterhouse worker, Stan (Henry Gayle Sanders), who grapples daily with poverty, misbehaving children, and the allure of violence. Stan is a simple guy, diligent, smart, and fatigued. He has a family including two kids, both entirely the opposite of the other. Stan's daughter (Angela Burnett, the director's child—one of the most preternaturally talented performers I have ever seen) is the playful and learning type, while the other—his son—is never home, discourteous, and always getting himself into trouble. The characterization in Killer of Sheep is both extraordinarily untouched, but it is meticulously observed and felt; every single character—although not all are important—has an underlying purpose and reason for being where they are.

The camera work in Killer of Sheep, much like the film itself, is perfect, like if one could be observing the town through his/her DV camcorder. Shooting in 16 millimeter and operating it himself, Burnett's camera observes everything, and is seemingly everywhere. Everything is important too, because every close-up and tracking shot only brings us closer to the undistinguished characters themselves; the more the camera observes, the more one feels closer to them.

Burnett shot Killer of Sheep over a series of weekends on a shoestring budget of just under $20,000, using friends and relatives as actors. This needn't be a reason to demean the film; if anything, one must take it as a sheer pleasure: the acting of his family members essentially makes the film beautiful sans outside reason, making it truly fathomable. Yet again, Burnett's camera simply observes; much like the Italian neo-realism age, Killer of Sheep's milieu speaks for itself—one could even call it American neo-realism.

At its core, Killer of Sheep is masterfully comprised of evident economic denial, hidden desire, and pure living; in other words: untainted life. There are many scenes in Killer of Sheep that demonstrate this; the most memorable demonstrating the cruelty of Stan's son towards his sister: while Stan drinks coffee at his table with a neighbor, his son aggressively asks his daughter where his bee-bee gun is. The daughter, wearing an unforgettable dog mask, shrugs. The response from the brother is, of course, hurting her. Stan gets up and starts chasing the son; he's already out the door.

In 1990, Burnett's opus magnum was declared a national treasure by Congress. 17 years later, it has finally gotten a spot on the big screen, a DVD release date also due for later in the year. Easily one of the finest observational films ever made, Killer of Sheep more than lives up to its official designation as a national treasure: it lives up to life itself.

I couldn't wait to see this movie when it came to town. I only read about it in magazines. I've never knowingly seen a movie before that has been declared a national treasury by the national film registry.

The first thing that stood out for me is the way the kids were playing. I pictured myself playing those games and wearing those clothes. The editing of the film is nothing like what happens in todays movies. Our attention span is much too short. There is a scene where two men are carrying an engine down a flight of stairs and into the back of a truck. The camera holds while the men struggle to carry it, pausing in mid-flight for a rest and then continuing on. This film is very real in the sense of how the neighborhoods looked back then and the struggles with money and staying on your feet. Even though I am not from the area, this film reminded me in some ways of how I grew up. I wasn't born yet when this film was in production.

My expectations were set very high for this film because of its previous awards. I started to wonder why it was selected for the national film registry. Possibly because it showed what the area looked like in the post-watts riot era, or was it a film that was created in the blaxploitation era but set itself apart from other films, or did it have to do with watching how kids grow up or how African-Americans were living at the time. I could be unfairly trying to compare this film with the movies that are block busters in our current time. Make sure you see this film.

Before writing this review, I read the four comments that were already posted- by tvspace, zumlinz, seabiscuit, and bartman. Their ratings ranged from two stars to ten stars, and one reviewer here (in addition to Manhola Dargis of the NY Times) hailed it as a masterpiece.

After viewing the film this afternoon at the IFC Center in Greenwich Village, I have to say that all four reviewers have valid points about the film.

It certainly has an "amateur" feel to it, including the acting of some of the smaller roles, as one of the previous reviewers pointed out. But I found much that was beautiful about it, and saw a sort of perfection in its lack of polish- polish and formula that is so commonplace today in not only big studio pictures, but many independent films as well.

While certainly not about "nothing," it does lack a conventional narrative, as was pointed out previously as well. But it is this absence of an obvious agenda (other than to portray typical, everyday life in Watts from the point of view of one family) that allows the film to work so well as a loosely structured, poetic slice of life. It is an amazing mood piece, and it made me feel quite sad. Yet there was humor, warmth, and hope scattered throughout the generally melancholy film.

I think this is the kind of film that will effect people differently, as is already evident from the first four reviews. If you don't catch this film in the theater this time around, it will be available on DVD in the fall and is well worth watching. Nowadays it seems to be in vogue with hotshot filmmakers to recreate the specific,unique look of older films, using all sorts of advanced technology to turn back the clock. Here's a chance to see the real deal-something raw and authentic from a talented filmmaker as he emerged.

Stan works in drudgery at a slaughterhouse. His personal life is drab. Dissatisfaction and ennui keep him unresponsive to the needs of his adoring wife, and he must struggle against influences which would dishonor and endanger him and his family.

Film critic Dana Stevens describes the film's plot as "a collection of brief vignettes which are so loosely connected that it feels at times like you're watching a non-narrative film." There are no acts, plot arcs or character development, as conventionally defined.

What happens in this film is not a documentary, but in many ways it may as well be. How many films really focus on the black community anywhere at any point in time? Very few. And this one does that, in all its gritty and glamorless reality.

One of the things I found interesting and original about this film was the ironic and off-kilter use of music. The underscoring includes whistling and other disconcerting sounds that go against the standard, traditional cinematic grain. While black children play in the desolate Los Angeles cityscape we hear on the soundtrack Paul Robeson's recording of "The House I Live In," a song from 1945 that deals with the ideal of racial harmony in America; what a contrast between this high-minded song and the brutal reality of 30 years later. A scene of children throwing rocks at a passing train looks like a newsreel from one of any number of modern African countries in the grip of civil war and poverty. Director Charles Burnett faithfully and accurately captures the texture of daily life in a 70s slum where life is merely existence sustained by a vague but constant hope that things will improve one way or another. The domestic scenes are painful to watch, so barren and stunted are the characters' lives. Similar territory has been explored surrealistically by David Lynch (ERASERHEAD), satirically by John Waters (PINK FLAMINGOS) and with wry formality by Jim Jarmusch (STRANGER THAN PARADISE) but Burnett treats it as cinema verite.

Unfortunately the technical level of this film is only so-so (yes, I realize this was a student thesis project). Although the shots are interestingly composed, usually starting with a close up that makes you wonder what you are looking at and then widening to give you a context, the uneven sound recording and poor diction of several performers distance the viewer.

I think that for showing us the reality of this particular cluster of humanity at this particular time in history KILLER OF SHEEP deserves the attention it has been getting,