After gaining attention from critics for Who's That Knocking At My Door and industry professionals with his work attitude on Woodstock, Scorsese finally landed his first major gig when he drew the attention of infamous film producer and director Roger Corman. Corman was not only a reliable purveyor of every kind of cheap genre film his studio, American International Pictures, could churn out; he was also a sharp eye for talent. By this point, he had already launched the careers of Jack Nicholson, Peter Bogdanovich, and Francis Ford Coppola to name a few, as well as breathe new life into the careers of John Carradine and Boris Karloff.
Scorsese would be driven through the same rigorous process those men were: the mission would be to deliver a cheap, easy to sell movie using actors Corman had already selected for Scorsese in less than 30 days. The result is your typical outlaw movie that became a dime a dozen following the humongous success of Bonnie and Clyde but with enough of Scorsese's own flourishes to make the film still his own.
Boxcar Bertha stars Barbara Hershey in the title role and David Carradine as her lover, Big Bill Shelly. The story, loosely based on a novel about a fictitious female outlaw during the Great Depression, follows the two lovers as they fall into a life of crime across the South after Bill is arrested and assaulted by corrupt police officers for attempting to unionize the Reader Railroad. Together with a reluctant and unlucky Northener and their musically talented black friend, Bertha and Bill do whatever they can to stick it to the rich.
Boxcar Bertha is 100% an exploitation film seen from its low budget, some questionable performances, and its huge amounts of sex and violence. You can almost see the contract requirements pop up on the screen.
- Barbara Hershey must have X amount of nude scenes.
- The movie must have X amount of fistfights or gunfights (which would explain the otherwise completely pointless prologue where Bertha watches her father die in a plane crash and Bill fights the men responsible).
- The film must feature Barbara Hershey and David Carradine having sex (they were a Hollywood power couple during the film's production).
- The film must have X number of car crashes.
However, despite these obvious checkmarks, Scorsese manages to deliver a solidly entertaining movie. The script is far by the weakest element of the film (along with some very wonky editing), but every other aspect is not bad, and shows continued promise of Scorsese as a filmmaker. He still put his heart and soul into the production, and you can feel it from beginning to end. Apparently, he drew over 500 storyboards for this film itself, which would also explain why the film looks so good to boot.
Scorsese also manages to draw some fantastic performances from his cast, especially Hershey. She perfectly combines a sense of childlike naivete with a fiercely sexual charm. Every time she grins when she's committing an act of crime, it's almost infectious. But she also expertly handles heavier material, including her reluctant turn to prostitution and scenes where she watches people she loves die in front of her eyes. She often beats Carradine performance-wise whenever they share the same scene. So it's no surprise then that Scorsese would work with her again several years later in The Last Temptation of Christ (it was actually during filming this movie that Hershey introduced Scorsese to that book).
Boxcar Bertha is also soaking with atmosphere. The genuine production design and harmonica-infused soundtrack completely engulfs the viewer in an old-timey Southern America vibe. Even the film's opening credits recall classical films of the 1930s (a natural Scorsese touch).
However, when things get violent, the film suddenly takes on a whole different kind of energy. Men are blown open by shotgun blasts. It's often jarring and definitely hyper-stylized. At one point, when a cop is blown away by a shotgun, the camera dollies with him as he flies several feet away. Judging from the way the violence is shot (and because David Carradine plays a character named Bill), I have a sneaking suspicion this is one of Quentin Tarantino's favorite Scorsese films.
The film never quite matches the standard other films of the female outlaw genre reached (Spielberg blows Scorsese out of the water with The Sugarland Express). Its script often holds it back, often filled with black and white characterization and on-the-nose dialogue. John Carradine's character is just about one line away from twirling his mustache on screen. There are plenty of contrivances (the police always seem to be hiding behind something to surprise our heroes), and some scenes serve no purpose except to meet those obvious obligations.
But the film keeps surprising in unique ways. The final shot is absolutely haunting. Bertha's turn to prostitution is handled with respect and empathy (see if you can spot Scorsese himself in this sequence, though it'd be hard to miss him). The music score is a real slapper. And the film hardly has any time to drag.
Because of the hard work Scorsese put into Boxcar Bertha, it was met with respectable reviews upon its release. Roger Ebert once again sang its praises, sure that Martin Scorsese would be a name to keep an eye on. The film performed modestly well at the box office too (no doubt thanks to AIP's often ingenious marketing campaigns). However, this was not the kind of film Scorsese was meant to do.
Scorsese infamously screened this film for his friend, fellow director and actor John Cassavetes. According to Scorsese, after the film was over, Cassavetes hugged Scorsese and bluntly told him that he spent a whole year of his life making "a piece of shit". Cassavetes urged Scorsese to use the clout he had to make a film that he would want to make.
That film would be Mean Streets.
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