[Film] Cruising and Subversive Storytelling
Psychologically analyzing William Friedkin's misunderstood gay slasher
Cruising is an enigma of a movie. Initially, I didn’t think much of the film's portrayal of Steve Burns (Al Pacino) and his encounter with the underground gay leather scene in New York. The primary conflict Burns faces as he attempts to solve the string of serial murders targeting gay men revolves around his gradually increasing psychological trauma and mental disassociation. Yet, the character just didn’t reveal anything personal or riveting to me at the time. Pacino’s performance is restrained in contrast to the explosive brutality of the film itself, and Burns’ character arc felt thin as a result. As I researched further into the film’s production and it’s source material, Gerald Walker’s book Cruising, the complexity of the symbolism and subtext fully unraveled.
Burns doesn’t have a lot to say about the gay leather lifestyle during the movie. He doesn’t imply a particularly strong opinion about the lifestyle he has to enter at all. His reaction when presented the assignment resembles mild amusement more than shock. Considering that his main conflict in the film is the psychically taxing nature of his assignment, Burns’ lack of strong characterization registered as a flaw to me on first watch; after all, the easiest way to establish Burns’ conflict would be to illustrate how he feels about his new assignment and the kinds of people he’ll have to cross paths with. Burns’ lack of reaction in the film wasn’t present in the original novel by Gerald Walker of the same name. The character, called John Lynch in the book, frequently espouses homophobic beliefs and his feelings about the assignment are communicated in a relatively straightforward way. This departure from the novel is intentional; Friedkin has said himself that he “didn't set out to make a film about gay culture” with Cruising, and it’s likely that Friedkin purposefully chose to explore more general themes of repression and identity with Cruising’s protagonist.
Friedkin’s discourse about the film’s themes are very telling, although they don’t directly address the use of the themes of identity and repression as a storytelling tool, at least of the material that I’ve found. In an interview with The Hollywood Interview, he explains “...[Cruising is] about identity: do any of us really know who it is sitting next to us, or looking back at us in the mirror?” Cruising is about the fear of what may live inside of us. By the third act, it’s clear that Burns has resigned himself to a haze as a result of the dark, identity-bending nature of his work. In a scene where his girlfriend Nancy (Karen Allen) interrogates him about work, the dissonance he experiences on a near constant basis renders him unable to put words to what he’s feeling. His behavior resembles a reluctant identity moratorium, or a stage in personal development before an individual has solidified their identity. Burns’ lack of direction is a strong point of characterization in and of itself, his conflict more akin to a personality crisis than a traditional internal conflict.
These themes also pervade the form of the film itself. A particularly relevant text is Bill Krohn’s piece Friedkin Out for Rouge Press, which breaks down trademark elements of Friedkin’s directorial style and their usage in Cruising. Krohn goes into detail about the film’s deliberately ‘fractured and obscured’ narrative, a point that relates to the themes of identity and repression as well. Repression is defined, not by the existence of a behavior, but the lack of one. It’s not things spoken, but the things left unsaid. The throughline of repression that runs through the film is incredibly palpable, and informs the majority of Burns' character conflict. A certain amount of ‘fracturing and obscuring’ is required to preserve the state of the repressed psyche. Many times in Burns’ story, he needs to contend with the fundamental ‘fracturing’ of the self that his job requires, a hint towards the hidden feelings being denied conscious, straightforward representation. The use of musical motifs stands out the most in this regard. The film establishes a distinctly harsh, punk soundscape for the leather bar scenes which stands in contrast to the plucky classical score that plays during scenes featuring Burns and Nancy. In one scene, during a moment of sexual intimacy between Burns and Nancy, Burns’ personal life being invaded by his undercover work is represented through music: the punk rock of the leather bar overpowers the classical music that had been playing throughout the sequence as the camera closes in on Burns’ face. It’s notable that the convergence of the two lives that Burns navigates between was conveyed through musical motifs as opposed to straightforward dialogue. The link between the leather bar and the psychosexual self created within Burns’ mind isn’t a clear or tangible change; it expresses itself through subterranean free association.
The layered yet indirect way the primary themes manifest themselves is a reflection of Burns’ experience of identity moratorium, and not a lack of depth or attention to detail. In fact, part of what makes Cruising’s writing so compelling is how it departs from traditional storytelling in meaningful ways. Even as someone who has experienced a somewhat similar feeling of being emotionally and psychologically adrift, Burns’ characterization still subverts what I believed to be the accepted identity crisis narratives. What Friedkin has created transcends issues concerning sexual identity or living a double life. Symbolized by Burns’ mirror reflection in it’s striking final shot, Cruising is about the dissonance that accompanies discovering parts of your identity hitherto unknown even to yourself. In an odd way, it manages to be even more relevant as a depiction of underground gay life, a lifestyle that sometimes necessitates a multiplicity of identities, than Friedkin ever intended.
Originally published on my Patreon
I'd count myself as a large fan of both Friedkin as a director and ambiguous storytelling as a concept, but watching this a few months ago felt like my first exposure to his "lesser" works — more empty than cryptic. Your points are nice and chewable if I ever venture towards a rewatch though, the split musical motifs being a particularly keen observation.