Looking for Mr. DVD

Back in the early days of home video, I wasn’t motivated to collect VHS tapes because of their generally poor quality and annoying habit of self-destructing. I was, however, an early adopter of the Laser Disc video format, which I considered not only far superior in quality to tape, but quite “cool” looking. The format didn’t exactly catch fire with the public, however; being in the Army at the time, I was regarded as a bit of an oddball for being the only guy in the barracks who owned a LD player. I eventually amassed a collection of 200 bulky titles, and most of them were “classic” back-catalogue films. Back in the day, the major studios were not reluctant to release important catalogue titles on the format, often to the chagrin of filmmakers. Video deals made with the VHS format were assumed to apply to LD as well; thus 20^th Century Fox wasted no time in releasing the Star Wars trilogy on LD, and odd as it may seem now, Paramount was at the forefront in releasing its “classic” titles, like Sunset Boulevard,  Chinatown, The Godfather and even the silent Wings--the first film to win Best Picture. “Obscure” gems like The Sterile Cuckoo, which after 14 years has finally been licensed out to Olive Studios for a DVD/Blu-ray release, were not treaty so shabbily then. Music “rights” contracts with VHS releases were still considered in force with LD, thus Saturday Night Fever was another early release.

Another Paramount film that was considered a surefire hit for the LD format was Looking For Mr. Goodbar. When I was serving time in Germany, it took a few years for “contemporary” films in the U.S. to make it to movie theaters in obscure Army outposts in places like Crailsheim.  At the time of its release, Goodbar had achieved some notoriety for its “daring” turn by Diane Keaton, at the time most notable in Woody Allen comedies. Although the film was mostly just depressing as all beat, it exposed me to shady side of life that I certainly hadn’t experienced up to that point in life, and frankly still haven’t. How could I? Keaton’s character, Theresa Dunn—based on the real-life Roseann Quinn—was the tale of a good Catholic girl and compassionate teacher of deaf children during the day, and at night the prowler of seedy bars in search of another sex partner. The ending, as was intended, was both shocking and unexpected. There were no prisoners taken here, no appeasing of audience sensitivities, no “alternate” ending from that depicted in Judith Rossner’s source novel—as director Jane Campion would do in her adaptation of In the Cut. Everyone knows how life ended for the outlaws Bonnie and Clyde, so their demise in the 1967 film was only unsettling in its suddenness and the slow-motion choreography. For those unfamiliar with the novel or the Quinn story, Goodbar on the other hand left viewers wondering if they had just experienced the cinematic equivalent of being mugged from behind.

Meanwhile, with the advent of the Digital Video Disc, high quality video was finally available in a compact medium, and unlike LD or even VHS tapes, it could be easily mass produced and was easy to use and virtually indestructible if handled with relative care. There was talk of discs being subject to “rot”—meaning oxidation between the coating and the data surface—but I have DVDs from 1999 that still play like new (I also have classical CDs I purchased thirty years ago in Germany that play with no apparent defects or loss of quality). I was smart enough to purchase quality catalogue titles in the early years (especially MGM films) when film studios were flooding the market with new titles every week; many of these titles are now out-of-print and being sold for outrageous mark-ups by third-party sellers on Amazon. 

Many films took years to make it to DVD, however. In demand titles like the Star Wars trilogy, Titanic, and the Indiana Jones films were MIA for years. There was no logical explanation for why The African Queen took a decade to be released on DVD, and only recently was Leslie Caron’s Lili disappointingly released as a video-on-demand title; perhaps the fact the best source Warner could find was the old television print with those blue lines dancing on the screen explains its reluctance to release the film as a standard DVD. Saturday Night Fever and Grease, on the other hand, were delayed in music rights “hell,” and that is the “official” reason that Looking for Mr. Goodbar has yet to see the light of day as a commercial DVD release. 

I say “official” because music rights may not be the only bump in the road to its re-release on any video format. That is not to say, of course, that you can’t find some third-party selling it in some obscure location on the Internet; I know of one seller who offers what he claims to be an anamorphic widescreen presentation of the film on DVD-R. However, since the source is likely a television broadcast, the quality of the transfer to DVD format would inevitably be inferior to a transfer from an original elements source. But then again, it is better than nothing.

There had been rumors floating about that Criterion—which has licensed several major Paramount catalogue titles, like Rosemary’s Baby—was preparing Goodbar for a 2012 DVD release. However, Criterion has quashed that hope. A more credible rumor was that Shout! Factory was seeking to license the film for a DVD/Blu-ray release. This turned out to be a rumor that had some basis in fact; but last July Cliff MacMillan—head of Production and Acquisitions at Shout—stated on an Internet forum that “I asked Paramount for that film, but it's a music issue. Someone will need to spend a lot of money clearing the music... so it will probably need to be Paramount.” 

The question is whether Paramount will do so any time soon, given some other “issues” in regard to the film that I’ve unearthed on the Internet. But first the music rights problem. To begin with, acquiring music rights for use in a film is far more complicated than people realize. For a given song, the approval process might include three separate entities—the publishing company, the song writer and the artist who recorded the song—all of whom have the right to demand a high fee or reject its use. One example of this is the 1996 film Unforgettable, which used the Nat King Cole song over the closing credits of the theatrical release; however, its use in home video was rejected by certain parties, and it was removed from the DVD release. Too often, the licensing of music rights is subject to whim, if not whimsy. For example, if a major artist is involved, or the film has a high profile, a half-million dollars or more may be required to acquire the use of a song. But if an artist is seeking to expand his or her audience, or believes in the “message” of the film, the song might be had for almost nothing. 

In the case of Goodbar, it has a higher percentage of songs that were major hits or recorded by artists who had a significant profile at the time than most movie soundtracks. The Bee Gees dominated the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, having either written or performed seven of its songs; thus it was presumably easier to settle on rights for both the DVD and Blu-ray formats. But on Goodbar, there were at least ten songs that each had its own rights “issues.” Those “issues,” of course, may have little to do with cost. The film at the time was controversial, and apparently remains so in the minds of those involved. Donna Summer has three songs she performed on the soundtrack, and one would think that the artist who recorded “Love to Love You Baby” with its two-minute orgasm would not let a little “controversy” stand in the way of the release of the film with its soundtrack intact. However, in the years before she passed away, Summer found religion and tried to reinvent herself; she certainly would not have wanted her contributions to Goodbar  to be re-exposed to the public. 

It may be true that the film’s content has made some of the artists who contributed songs to the soundtrack fidgety, and they are now demanding an astronomical fee for the use of their songs, or are demanding the songs be removed. But if cost really is an issue for Paramount (and it shouldn’t be, given $100 million+ film budgets these days), then it may consider simply dropping and replacing songs that it cannot obtain the rights to. Sure, purists will be upset, but this isn’t likely to be a consideration for people who have either forgotten the film, have never seen it, or are too young to remember the songs. I admit that it would be a unfortunate not to keep intact the haunting musical montage over the opening credits, but elsewhere the only song I consider essential to the narrative of the film is Bill Withers’ “She’s Lonely.” There is very little else here that seems to “fit” the film like the Bee Gee’s songs did on Fever. As much as I like Boz Scaggs’ “Lowdown,” Diana Ross’ “Love Hangover” and The O’Jays’ “Backstabbers,” the only reason why I notice them is because I’ve heard them before; otherwise, they are just background. “She’s Lonely,” on the other hand, was not a hit (at least not on the pop charts), but it perfectly sets the stage for a woman who is about to step into a seedy world where being “independent” is a dangerous existence when one has not the benefit of experience.

Goodbar  is certainly a film that is controversial even today;  its suggestion that a woman’s ultimate fate is the result of deliberate choice—and an unwise habit of  emasculating the men she encounters, particularly uneducated toughs who are below her social “class”—would certainly be regarded as the height of political-incorrectness and face accusations of “sexism” and “misogyny.”  The film has received mixed reviews over the years, some criticizing Richard Brooks’ direction, the use of “dream” sequences and the family scenes, which supposedly (but not in my mind) interrupt the “flow” of the narrative. The film was naturally the target of feminists, as well as the gay community concerning the bi-sexual character Gary—despite the fact that he is based on Quinn’s real-life killer, John Wayne Wilson. 

Nevertheless, I have watched this film many times and my impression is that if you don’t go into it with preconceived political notions (particularly gender politics), the film remains potent and one can choose to interpret it as a disturbing depiction of the rejection by one generation (in the person of Theresa) the values of its predecessor—much as a generation of youth from the Sixties and Seventies in many ways rejected the social and cultural values of the 1950s. Theresa’s rejection of her would-be suitor—the clean-cut, “normal” guy James—is a denial of the bourgeois, “traditional” values that impinged on her “freedom,” something that is prescient in today’s world.  I also don’t understand the criticism of Brooks—who also directed the controversial for their time The Blackboard Jungle and Elmer Gantry; the acting—not just by Keaton, but by all involved—is outstanding, and as critic Roger Ebert pointed out, it is unfair to criticize Brooks and ignore his direction of these performances. 

In any case, I will offer this opinion on the status of the film: I don’t believe that music rights are the principle issue keeping this film from being released on DVD. The “feelings” of the actors involved may be playing an even bigger role. I have come to this conclusion based on some things that I have read. For example, a few years ago in an Internet forum discussion concerning the status of the film, a man who claimed to be involved in some function honoring Richard Gere stated that he was ordered by the actor’s representatives not to include any clips from Goodbar in a film retrospective. For those familiar with the film it might seem obvious why Gere would make this request; in virtually every scene he is in, his character, Tony, reveals himself to be an emotionally immature, none-too-bright racist street punk who hits women when he is not screwing them or extorting money from them. But for those who think that Gere has a leaden acting style and has gotten by on his “pretty boy” looks, they will be surprised by the energy and charisma he displayed in Goodbar, a performance which convinced many that he was a star-to-be. However, Gere has made many films with Paramount, and I wouldn’t be shocked to discover that he or his representatives are applying subtle pressure to keep the studio from releasing the film on DVD.

What about Keaton? Why she should be unhappy about being reminded about a performance that was universally praised? It makes no sense unless the aforementioned politics has influenced her views on the project. I found this 2007 interview with someone named Kim Morgan, which is revealing more for what is not said than what is:

Q: Looking for Mr. Goodbar was a daring, controversial movie in its day. Did you think you were taking a risk with that role?

A: I didn’t consider it a risk. I had to audition for it. It was a huge part, everybody wanted it. And the fact that I got it – that was the most amazing part of it all. It was an opportunity to expand and try something very different from Annie Hall.

Q: How do you feel about Looking for Mr. Goodbar after all these years? Have you seen it recently?

A: I only saw it once. I haven’t seen it in like 25 years. I don’t really know how the movie has aged. Sometimes movies remain wonderful like The Grapes of Wrath, but sometimes they don’t age well. I don’t look back on my movies; I haven’t seen any of them.

Q: None? Why is that?

A: No, I don’t want to go there. I did it and I experienced it and some of these movies I made were huge learning experiences and some of them introduced me to people I loved. So these [films] are of course, significant in my life. But I don’t want to go back and look at them.

Keaton is being disingenuous here, because in other interviews she is effusive in her recollections of films like The Godfather, Reds and her work with Woody Allen. She clearly is making excuses not to talk about Goodbar, implying that if it was a “mistake” it was one that many other actresses were ready to make. Her suggestion that it might not have “aged well” is simply an opinion, likely influenced by small-minded activists who are uncomfortable with the film's myth-breaking. Does Keaton want this film released on DVD? It sounds to me that she wishes she never became involved with it.

I believe all of these various obstacles to the release of this film detracts from a dramatic film that depicts a slice of life that, as the case of Roseann Quinn indicates, has a basis in reality that should not be hidden simply because it contradicts prevailing myths. But enough is enough: Looking For Mr. Goodbar should be viewed as a film about a woman whose idea of “independence” was to break every social more in sight, and who never recognized until too late that there were consequences for this—even death. In this, Goodbar was as much a taboo breaker as Sidney Lumet’s The Pawnbroker was more than a decade earlier.