The effect that Hal Ashby’s Harold and Maude must have had over an entire generation of filmmakers is very much apparent – this feels like a precursor to every Wes Anderson movie ever made, and even has some of the same scrappy qualities to the works of David O. Russell, most notably Flirting with Disaster and Silver Linings Playbook. Bud Cort was extremely funny in a morose fashion as Harold, and Ruth Gordon was many things as Maude – hysterical, odd, kooky, heartfelt, and finally, totally unique. Their relationship is one built out of loneliness and desperation, and while some stuff happens that might seem over the top, I’m always able to buy into the notion that these two people were just waiting to find each other, so that their lives could finally achieve that spark they were looking for. This is a black comedy with a strange sense of humor that clearly paved the way for so much to come. Back during its initial release, critics seemed to have been mixed and audiences stayed away, but I’m not surprised how the film has developed such a rabid cut following in the years since. The soundtrack by Cat Stevens keeps things upbeat and sunny even when the narrative goes to some extra sad and dark places, and the screenplay by Colin Higgins deftly balanced all elements, with no small amount of help coming from graceful director Ashby, who always had a natural feel for his actors and a clear sense of place for his productions. John Alonzo’s cinematography was unfussy and patient with its compositions, and it’s a further reminder of how this great cameraman from a lost era was capable of working in any genre (other credits include Scarface, Chinatown, The Bad News Bears, Blue Thunder, and Star Trek: Generations). There’s also some terrific stunt driving which contributes to the humorous tone, with jokes coming in the most surprising of places, told visually in many instances, which keeps the film moving along with a sense of the unpredictable all the way until the perfect ending. Available on Blu-ray from the Criterion Collection.
Podcasting Them Softly 