Vintage Movies: “The Conversation”

MAGNET contributing writer Jud Cost is sharing some of the wealth of classic films he’s been lucky enough to see over the past 40 years. Trolling the backwaters of cinema, he has worked up a list of more than 100 titles—from the ’20s through the ’80s—that you may have missed. A new selection, all currently available on DVD, appears every week.

The Conversation (1974, 113 minutes)

It’s a blustery autumn afternoon in San Francisco’s Union Square, and local mime Robert Shields, in white-face and a comical military uniform, is annoying the tourists, as usual. High on the rooftop of The City of Paris, a man in headphones perched behind the neon sign of the ladies’ clothing store is aiming a long barrel at a young couple down in the square. He shifts the sniper-scope crosshairs from Ann (Cindy Williams) to Mark (Frederic Forrest). In between bleeps, he picks up scraps of their conversation, and you realize this isn’t a rifle. It’s an extremely powerful directional microphone.

Surveillance is the name of the game, and Harry Caul (played by a tightly wrapped Gene Hackman) is the best in the business. Sporting an awkward mustache and dressed in something off the rack from J.C. Penney, Harry walks around the square to overhear dialogue between the targeted pair, while Stan, his assistant (John Cazale), rolls tape back in the van. Shields mocks the way Harry drinks coffee from a cardboard cup, the last thing a professional snoop wants while he’s working: attention.

“Look, that’s terrible,” says Ann as she spots an old man passed-out in the square. “He’s not hurting anyone,” replies Mark. “Neither are we,” says Ann. “Everytime I see one of these old guys, I always think the same thing. He was once somebody’s baby boy, and he had a mother and a father who loved him. And now he’s half-dead on a park bench.”

The next morning, Harry enters a seemingly abandoned brick warehouse in S.F.’s industrial district and takes the freight elevator upstairs to his “office,” where he keeps all the latest devices used by a professional eavesdropper. As he begins to assimilate the data from yesterday’s job, Stan asks, “Who’s interested in these two, anyway, the Justice Department? These kind of tapes always put me to sleep.” Irritated, Harry snaps back, “Since when are you here to be entertained? Your work’s getting sloppy, Stan.” Now sulking, Stan takes off on his motorcycle.

Able to better concentrate alone, Harry homes in on the missing pieces of the conversation by filtering out the racket of a conga drummer. Finally, he hears a previously inaudible exchange by the “marked” couple. “I think he’s recording my telephone conversations,” says Ann. “He’d kill us if he got the chance,” replies Mark, adding, “Later in the week. Sunday, maybe.” Ann answers, “Sunday, definitely.” Mark says portentously, “Jack Tar Hotel, three o’clock, room 773.” It’s info enough to give Harry second thoughts about the job he’s just completed.

Before Cazale died prematurely in 1978, he appeared in only five feature films: The Conversation, The Godfather I and II, The Deer Hunter and Dog Day Afternoon. All five were nominated for a best-picture Oscar.