“I directed the best political movie never released.” Filmmaker Haskell Wexler thus described Medium Cool , his violent feature set during Chicago’s riotous 1968 Democratic National Convention. His movie opened (sort of) exactly 55 years ago this week.
The Paramount release won ardent support from critics and (briefly) from ticket buyers but was renounced by leaders of the Democratic Party and the Chicago police. Their criticism was short-lived because the negative would quickly disappear. A Paramount spokesman was reluctant to confirm it had ever been made.
The mysteries of Medium Cool seemed relevant to cineastes this week as history threatened to repeat itself in Chicago. As in 1968, the chaos at the Democratic convention would be triggered by an overseas conflict – Gaza now, Vietnam then. But the police this week showed they’d learned from the bitter lessons of ’68 when violence jeopardized the political process and the election itself.
Despite forecasts of a turnout of 30,000 protesters and intense coverage by Fox News, the turnout was meager this week (perhaps 5,000 at most) as were the arrest totals. The convention itself won applause and strong ratings for its electric energy and star power . But not in 1968.
Medium Cool was in fact a love story about a photojournalist who fell in love with a war widow, their affair disrupted by political violence – as was the movie itself. Wexler, who wrote and directed Medium Cool , was a brilliant cinematographer and activist whose credits included In the Heat of the Night and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf . Medium Cool , his first deal as a writer-director, was set up as a romantic drama.
The plot of its original script had nothing to do with politics, except that its location was Chicago, circa 1968. One week before the start of production, Wexler called the studio in a state of abject panic. The convention had started and Chicago was in a state of war, he reported.
An army of protesters had surrounded the delegates. Hundreds had been injured, some killed. “I am witnessing a story far more dramatic and important then my original script,” Wexler said.
“I want to shoot it. You will receive a new draft within an hour. It’s explosive.
It’s life not fiction. I’ll call later tonight.” As Vice President of Production under Bob Evans, I had made the original deal with Wexler.
I now read Wexler’s “explosive” script. And I understood his impulsive decision. When Wexler called his message was straightforward.
“I know this is not the way things should be done, and I don’t want to put you on the hook.” “I am firmly on the hook anyway,” I said. “If you want me to shoot the original script, tell me now.
But if you consent that I shoot the new draft, please hang up...
I don’t want you to be singled out for the blame.” “You’re crazy to do it this way,” I replied. “But I am now hanging up.
” By week’s end, Wexler was shooting his new script. I informed the production department. No one else knew.
No one except Evans, Paramount’s production chief, who winced at the news but endorsed my decision. “This is not the way we should be doing things, but what the hell – it’s working so far.’” The following week we watched the dailies together.
The work was excellent, especially the relationship between Robert Forster and Verna Bloom which included a nude love scene. Evans and I were proud of the film. Its opening sparked approval and shock during its first week.
But Charles Bluhdorn, chairman of Gulf & Western, which owned Paramount, offered his own succinct reaction. “The board of directors does not want Medium Cool to be distributed by Paramount,” he told a startled Evans. “Why are they even seeing our movies?” Evans demanded.
Bluhdorn refused to elucidate. By week’s end, the scheme became clear. Two members of his corporate board had been top donors and officers of the Democratic National Committee.
They felt that Medium Cool would trigger intense public criticism of the party, illuminating its gross mishandling of the convention and confusion over choice of candidates. Evans and I vigorously protested the decision. Political censorship would hurt the studio, and ultimately the Democratic Party, we argued.
A day later I managed to get one of the offending board members on the phone and voiced my anger. “Leave it alone,” he shouted, hanging up on me. He called me back a day later.
“Don’t quit or do anything rash,” he said. “The movie will be back before long.” Months later, Medium Cool ultimately got some of its playdates back and was again rewarded by good reviews.
As such, it joined Paramount’s list of successes like Rosemary’s Baby, Love Story and The Godfather . But its moment had passed. Wexler never received the acclaim he deserved.
.
