United States, 1975
Directed by Sidney Lumet
With Al Pacino (Sonny), John Cazale (Sal), Sully Boyar (Mulvaney), Penelope Allen (Sylvia), Charles Durning (Moretti), James Broderick (Sheldon), Chris Sarandon (Leon), Susan Peretz (Angie)
A simple job going out of control: a trio of rather ordinary and diffident guys try to rob a bank in Brooklyn. Just pointing a gun to a hostage frightens the younger who readily walks away, apologizing for his lack of composure. The two others, on the face of it far more determined but actually as awkward when it comes to handling details, proceed to empty the safe – but find out it holds little cash as a truck has already taken banknotes and coins handled by that branch back to the headquarters. And police soon arrive on the spot, despite the fact that no alarm was set off, an odd twist that would never be fully explained. So Sonny, the befuddled and expansive leader of the failing operation, and Sal, his mute sidekick, are stuck in the bank with eight hostages, including a stolid manager, Mulvaney, an outspoken chief teller, Sylvia, and a variety of female workers who react in their own ways to the rising tension.
Things are also taking an unexpected, unwieldy turn in the outer world: the heist has sparked an amazing over-reaction from the law enforcement system and set off an intrusive media frenzy; the commotion both institutions is fostering attracts a large, motley crowd of New Yorkers keen on reacting to the developments. Hostage-takers and their victims are overwhelmed by the situation but Sonny seizes the opportunity to play hardball tactics with the police, first New York Police Department Detective Moretti and then FBI Special Agent Sheldon, to run away without trouble, while becoming something of a star, the hero of the day (“We’re entertainment”, Sonny can tell a news anchorman). But as the police keeps investigating, Sonny’s life gets public, disclosing a violent relationship with his wife, and mother of two kids, Angie, and a quite stunning and definitely poignant relationship with a young gay, Leon, which sheds another light on his motivations. Sonny stands as a fairly tormented and confused personality looking to appease his conscience and reckoning to exit himself, Sal, and those he loves from this nightmare of his own making. Unsurprisingly the end would be far more tragic than what he settled for.
Cinema as reaction: this plot is not a fit of imagination as the screenplay is based on a magazine article covering extensively a real case of bungled bank robbery that occurred earlier in New York. Before the end credits roll one a few sentences explain to the audience what happened to the actual characters involved in this crime story, giving by the way the real names. The reality was intriguing enough to prod filmmaking folks, starting with veteran director Sidney Lumet, into action to turn right away facts into thrilling fiction. But there is even more in this effort than a piece of paper.
Pumping his fist Sonny yells “Attica” and cheers up the responsive, enthusiastic crowd. He refers to the riots that rocked that infamous New York prison in September 1971, leaving some forty people dead, wardens and prisoners, the latter shockingly outnumbering the former. Riots were fueled by ingrained racism, violence and physical contempt for the prisoners inside the not so civil servants looking after them. The film exploits the running anger against law enforcement as much as the lead character, standing as a scathing critique of cops. This is first handled with a bittersweet irony as roving, carefully observing cameras depict the preposterous show of over-reaction of the police, an outrageous oversized mobilization that borders on comedy though it rises tension in irresponsible ways.
Then the film tends to be a more complex picture, highlighting that trigger-happy, zealous officers do not always prevail as more decent workers strive to make sense of the situation, namely Moretti. Still unease is always lurking in the backdrop and Sonny’s paranoia is not always unjustified. Indeed, the finale becomes an arresting instance of sheer state violence, the stunning efficiency and focus of both the FBI agents and the cameras delivering not so much a sense of justice than conveying the cold-blooded and cruel manners used in the name of justice. This is enough to force part of the public to grapple with unpalatable truth while the other part would approve the critique – as much as do both the passers-by and even the hostages (the film shows the growing empathy between Sonny and his hostages, in a curious but quite reactive illustration of a new psychological concept, the so-called Stockholm Syndrome, defined, as it happens, by the behaviors the victims of a bank heist in the Swedish capital in 1973 displayed; the film does relish reacting on every kind of news development, it seems, but even more wants to partake in a radical distrust of policing).
The film is also made six years after the riot of the Stonewall Inn bar in another part of the Big Apple. The heist had the purpose of getting money for the sex change operation Leon desperately needs and that Sonny wants to pay as the ultimate gesture of love despite, or rather because, of a fairly rocky partnership. So “Dog Day Afternoon” is is a crime story and a mainstream entertainment squarely addressing LGBT issues and people – although the portrait of Leon is not really free of clichés despite the genuine pain his case conveys and the sympathy Moretti feels as he talks with Leon. The support Sonny got through his antics and ravings on the sidewalk both get wider and more divided, as LGBT activists crowd the streets with placards while other people are keener on throwing projectiles on their former hero of the day; the film reflects in a brutal and honest way the passions gay sex were arising; it does side with the minority but its broader focus remains the oppression led by the police.
The film is a liberal, effective description of an enraged America. It clearly targets state-sanctioned violence as an unchecked force that support highly conservative views of the society but remains an earnest and compelling storytelling more than an exposé with prescriptions. It relies on skillful, solid narration tools: a surprising narrative, a masterful, confident use of the cameras (that is concrete business: where to put the then to the maximum effect as far as sheer action is concerned and how to get them rightly focused on the gestures and emotions of the characters) and great cast. Supporting actresses and actors ring true and they effortlessly inject enough seriousness and sincerity in their performances to make them instantly credible and likable, nicely fitting into the thrilling narration. Of course Al Pacino steals the show, as fiery, magnetic and charismatic as he was when he worked earlier, in 1973, with Lumet to make “Serpico”, another fierce view on the police system, though in this case Pacino has to take into account the psychological fragility of Sonny – and he pulls it off gracefully, building gingerly a complex performance suiting a real-life story that is anything but a caricature of life but a poignant tale of failure in a society clashing with itself.