Paul Schrader

First Reformed

American Gigolo

While I often love to explore the filmographies of specific filmmakers, it’s been almost a year since I did a deep dive into a cinematic resume that isn’t David Cronenberg’s. I know I have an addiction, but the first step is admitting it! This week I’d like to take a look at a filmmaker who’s works I’ve never explored before, though a bunch of his films have long-been on my list: writer-director Paul Schrader. If you know me, you know I love movies, I love people who make them, and I especially love a writer-director. This is no shade to filmmakers who only direct—but there’s just something about films that were written and directed by the same person that catch my attention every time. It seems deeply torturous yet creatively liberating to be the one to write a story, then bring it to life. And while writer-director films can be just as disjointed as any other, there’s a natural cohesion, to this critic at least, to films that have been dreamed up and mapped out by the same individual. It must be incredibly satisfying, and incredibly masochistic, and I can’t think of a more tortured or a more creative soul than chronic-Facebook-poster Paul Schrader. Schrader is perhaps best known for writing the screenplay to Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, as well as co-writing the scripts to Raging Bull, The Last Temptation of Christ, and Bringing Out the Dead. He directed his first film (Blue Collar) in 1978, and in 1980, he created the film that made Richard Gere a star: American Gigolo. From the very first second this film starts, and Blondie’s “Call Me” begins to play, I was all in. As my mom put it, this film ushered in the 1980s—where the pants got tighter, the makeup got brighter, and every push of a synthesizer key made the art even bolder. American Gigolo introduces us to a very young, very hot, very, unreasonably well-dressed Richard Gere, who’s name is Julian Kay—or Julie, as he is lovingly referred to. Julian is a classy male sex worker, who’s clientele consists mostly of uber wealthy, uber horny, older women. Julian’s a pro—a real, casual, but effective flirtation and seduction machine equipped with every beautiful suit that Georgio Armani had to offer. You see, this film isn’t just about the complex professional and interior life of a gigolo, it’s also about his fashion. Several scenes, montages, and even minor details were dedicated to the appallingly sexy suits Richard Gere wore, paying special attention to the coordinated colors and effortlessly clean chicness of this man’s menagerie of expensive clothing. I’m pretty sure this film has the most costume changes I’ve ever seen done by a man in a single film—it was practically reaching Clueless-levels of quick-changes, and I, for one, was utterly refreshed by this kind of male perspective. It is the first film I’ve seen that offers a masculine version of the getting-dressed-montage, and it is the first to provide an aspirational lifestyle and aesthetic specifically for men. Perhaps it isn’t all men who want to look and live like Richard Gere in this movie (but really, why don’t you?) but I have certainly seen remnants of this clean, put-together kind of masculine aesthetic in films like American Psycho—and Julian Kay is a much better person to aspire to than Patrick Bateman. I promise this movie is not just vibes and immaculate suits, I promise that there is an actual plot to American Gigolo, but revealing any of it to you here would just spoil all of the fun. Instead I just have to emphasize how fucking cool and hot Richard Gere was, from his black Mercedes to his sleek apartment, to the fact that his character is well-read and speaks several languages—it was all really doing it for me. This character is a polyglot, he’s a master of charm, and he’s just complicated enough to keep you guessing. The dialogue was fascinating, and found ways of exploring the darkest reaches of our psyches without being too heavy or even the slightest bit pretentious. American Gigolo didn’t aim to scandalize or sensationalize its story, though I can imagine the trailers for it probably did, and instead it effectively humanized every player involved. Not only is this film well-written and superbly-performed, but the filmmaking and cinematography of this film—its bright neon-washed frames, its menacing shadows, all of them contrasting beautifully against its elegant set pieces—it was all irresistible and impossible to look away from (even before we see Richard Gere’s dick and ass 💕) To uncover the depth of this male sex worker, and to explore what satisfies the man who satisfies everyone else, was the captivating study that American Gigolo bravely takes on. The film made excellent use of its one song (quite literally only “Call Me” but edited and remixed in clever ways), it made excellent use of a young Hector Elizondo, and it featured some of the coolest late 70s early 80s furniture I’ve ever seen. I was expectedly delighted by, but unexpectedly shaken by American Gigolo, especially when Julian said vaguely depressing lines like, “All my life I’ve been looking for something, I don’t know what it is.” That heartbreakingly existentialist inevitability seems to be a theme in Schrader’s films, and this was certainly the case for one of his most recent films: First Reformed. I was listening to the A24 Podcast, as many lonely film bros do, and stumbled upon a conversation between Sofia Coppola and Paul Schrader. Before the two ever spoke, though, the voice of a producer suggested that listeners skip ahead if they hadn’t seen Schrader’s 2017 film First Reformed—which was the last straw. I’d had this film recommended to me several times, but hadn’t yet felt compelled to view it. But after this experience, I knew that I had to. Not just so I could listen to the conversation between these two auteurs, but so I could see what all the fuss was about. I’m not sure where to begin with First Reformed, not just because I took more notes on this movie than I have in awhile, not just because it deals with sensitive, touchy subjects, but because it is the first film in a long time to have shocked me this much. I have an odd relationship with shock and/or awe, because oftentimes in film these devices are used as tools just to sell a movie, but First Reformed did not seem concerned with selling itself. First Reformed follows Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke), the pastor of First Reformed Church in Snowbridge, New York, who is dealing with a crisis of faith. We get the impression early on that Toller is a more complicated man of god, though his life is simple—he lives at the church with little to no furniture, or any possessions at all. Schrader uses a clean, symmetrical, almost sterile, white nothingness in this movie, and is constantly placing characters against minimalistic backdrops—a large departure from the delicious materialism in American Gigolo. Toller decides to begin writing in a journal to heal himself, but finds little solace in the self-pitying practices of journaling (a feeling I unfortunately relate to), though he seems to find joy in helping others. One day he is approached by a member of his congregation, Mary (Amanda Seyfried), a woman who’s husband needs more help than the pastor can provide—but he tries anyway. Her husband Michael is an environmental activist who’s despair about climate change is overwhelming, to the point that he doesn’t even want to bring a child into the world—even though Mary is pregnant. This despair is seemingly contagious, and the already-tortured pastor is given something new to obsess about and pray over. First Reformed is eerie from the moment it begins, but the second that Toller meets this man, things only become more grim. I fear that I cannot reveal anymore about the plot and sequence of events in this film, because it really is something you should experience yourself, if you can stomach it. To say that First Reformed is dark would be the understatement of the century. It goes above and beyond the capacity of bleakness in American Gigolo, and continues to put its already pained-protagonist through more pain and suffering. Rarely do I think about the inner-workings of a church, let alone the leaders of said churches, but First Reformed challenged every thought that I had going into this, and kept me thoroughly glued to the screen (when I initially worried I’d just be bored.) It dared to confront not just the institution of the church or the idea of God, but the unfortunately-too-often capitalistic behavior of people who only claim to be spiritual. Amanda Seyfried was impressively joyless, and randomly her hair has never looked cuter. I’ve never seen Ethan Hawke play such a serious role, and he did so unbelievably well that I struggle to find a single reason why his performance wasn’t nominated for an Oscar when the film’s screenplay was. First Reformed explored the depths of the human psyche, it challenged everything we consider sacred, and despite its immensely sad premise I didn’t find myself feeling sad—only intrigued and spellbound. I jotted down every quote that stood out to me, but rarely did I have time to finish typing before another eloquently-worded phrase was uttered. This film just kept finding ways to divert from the expectations and assumptions placed upon it, and truly kept shocking this viewer—especially when Cedric the Entertainer appeared, and proceeded to give a similarly superb performance. My only grievance with First Reformed, a movie that seemed so strong in its beliefs and viewpoints, is with its ambiguous ending. To watch this harrowing story to play out was riveting, but it would’ve been all the better if its ending had satisfied and shook me just as much. I still can’t complain about this film too much, though I’m sure many other people have! It has a biting and necessary commentary within it, and it’s one of those films that I cannot wait to discuss with other people. Both of these Schrader films follow self-destructive, obsessive men, and both found ways to surprise and shock and move this jaded critic. I’ll be thinking about both of these movies for a long time, but my time for this post has run out. But tune in next week for more revelations, more roasts, and hopefully, more hot, tortured dudes. Ta ta!