Believe it or not, the 1970’s were a strange and wondrous time for cinematic Science Fiction and Fantasy.
For those who missed it, the genre was evolving, almost at warp speed. The late 1960’s had shown the industry and its audience that there was a market for serious subjects within a category that had only years before been predicated on radioactively-enhanced insects, goofy spaceships soaring against obvious studio backdrops, and rubber-masked aliens invading Earth for whatever purpose. Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek (1965-1968) showed that the classic morality play fit comfortably within the rubric of exploring strange new worlds. Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) proved that special effects and storytelling could be joined at the hip with big ideas and even bigger execution. And Twentieth Century Fox’s Planet Of The Apes (1968) served up themes both socially relevant and relatable in a construct that audiences readily embraced without being required to think too deeply about any of it.
It’s this foundation that pushed storytellers to wade even deeper into what would’ve only years earlier had been considered treacherous waters. 1971’s The Andromeda Strain melded meaty concepts – i.e. a spaceborne virus threatening mankind, cutting-edge science serving as our only potential salvation – into a picture that drew the attention of both the Academy Awards and the Hugo Awards, organizations that had previously only sparingly seen eye-to-eye. 1972’s Silent Running plumbed the depths of just how fragile our environment might be while examining the lengths one man might go to save it. And 1973’s Soylent Green became one of the bleakest Dystopian tales of theatrical record, pitting a lone New York City detective against a conspiracy covering up how far the global elite might go to maintain civil order.
It should come as no surprise that Michael Crichton’s Westworld (1973) came to life in this era blending science fact with reality. While some might suggest that the thriller is a bit of a narrative throwback to the days when SciFi and Fantasy resembled carnival rides more than they did college theses, there’s still no denying that writer/director Crichton had some serious things to say about our civilization’s growing dependency on technology while ignoring the fact that we, culturally, were also dragging our deep-seated weaknesses with us along for the ride. In the picture, he creates a veritable Disneyland where men and women could indulge in their sanest, sincerest, and sickest fantasies seemingly without consequence, only to have those ticket buyers eventually reminded that nothing (but nothing) in life ever comes for free. In fact, the price might be one’s mortal soul.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A robot malfunction creates havoc and terror for unsuspecting vacationers at a futuristic, adult-themed amusement park.”
Best buds Peter Martin (played by Richard Benjamin) and John Blane (James Brolin) are seeking an escape from their daily lives; and Westworld – a place where Blane has been before – certainly more than suffices. Instead of the usual diversions, Westworld – and its sister Delos environments of RomanWorld and MedievalWorld – grants vacationers the opportunity to indulge in pure Fantasy by transporting them – with new identities – to other times and other places. Once there, parkgoers have free reign to engage in whatever level of morality or debauchery they choose … with a bit of fun-spirited wickedness generally being allowed to rule the day. As gunslingers, Martin and Blane set their sights on gunplay, fisticuffs, and soiling more than a few of the lonesome doves who live and work upstairs in the city saloon.
Meanwhile … behind the curtain …
Delos Parks’ supervisor (Alan Oppenheimer) and his fellow lab-coated science nerds find themselves in the midst of a quandary: the robots have slowly begun breaking out of their regularly scheduled programming, showing signs suggesting that some computer virus may have given these automatons much more free will than was ever intended. One by one, the system failures begin to mount. When a fetching palace servant Daphne (Anne Randall) suddenly resists the lecherous carnal advances of a paying customer, the supervisor realizes that these malfunctions pose greater risk than first theorized. However, before he can convince his counterparts that all systems should be taken offline, chaos ensues when Westworld’s resident gunslinger (Yul Brynner) decides he’s lost one too many shootouts and attempts to extract vengeance on the nebbish Martin.
To Crichton’s credit (and genius), Westworld is arguably one of the most relatable SciFi-themed catastrophes ever brought to film; and his construct of having creations turn on the creator is a proven formula that he revisits again – in book format – with his 1990 novel “Jurassic Park.” (Yes, it was rather famously been adapted for the screen by Steven Spielberg in 1993.) Biblical parallels aside, we – as a species – remain imperfect; as such, damn near anything we create is going to bring these imperfections along, especially when we give them human (much less dinosaur) shape. Essentially, audiences likely go in with full knowledge that these animatronic inventions are little more than ticking time bombs waiting to explode; so there’s plenty of understandable tension in waiting patiently for Hell to break loose. It does, and – despite the fact that everyone knew it was coming – the results are stark, nonetheless.
Furthermore, Crichton deserves praise for serving up characters whose personalities are equally easy to access. Benjamin’s Martin is that awkward fellow we’ve all known at some point in our lives, the kind endlessly befriended by others because he’s no threat nor wishes harm upon his fellow man. In contrast, Brolin’s macho Blane looks the part of the typical screen hero: he bears chiseled good looks, speaks few words but keeps them full of confidence, and likely paired up with Martin in the outside world because he’s clearly no threat to his own masculinity. Together, they make a likable pair, not quite the embodiment of epic cowboys though both appear willing to indulge in one of their earliest boy fantasies. Of the two, Martin is the least superficial; and yet even he finds himself wrapped up in the world of make believe to the point of surrendering his own moral code when the lovely Arlette (Linda Gaye Scott) wants nothing more than an inconsequential ‘roll in the hay.’
While Westworld remains incredible lean in its running time, Crichton debatably indulges himself in one too many pratfalls not long after the film’s midpoint: Martin and Blane’s last night in merriment descends into a hellacious bar fight, an event that frankly grinds the otherwise thoughtful story to a halt on behalf of chaotic lunacy. Thematically, perhaps the writer/director wanted to show just how far off kilter the pursuit of personal paradise might take any person who purchases a ticket. While that’s all well and good, there’s no escaping the fact that the sequence stretches on far longer than necessary: well after the point has been made, our two leads are still portrayed symbolically as boys swinging from the rafters when we were all well aware long ago that boys just wanna have fun.
Westworld (1973) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that this film both looks and sounds absolutely incredible: it’s definitely an upgrade that makes the flick worth seeing, especially for those who may have never had the privilege. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a good audio commentary (frankly, it’s a bit too off-topic for my tastes, exploring more of the MGM studio history than relates directly to the film) along with interviews, a fabulous critical essay, the pilot for the Beyond Westworld TV series, and a few other items. It’s a wonderful assortment, as usual with Arrow Films.
Strongly Recommended.
As a tentpole SciFi film, Westworld (1973) suffers in small walls by allowing its characters to give in a bit too much to their most juvenile pursuits: the barfight (while a necessary Western trope) is far too comedic to be taken seriously, and Benjamin’s Peter Martin is bit too puritanical at times to be considered authentic. Still, director Crichton rather efficiently keeps the picture moving so deftly most of the time that there’s little to no room for any of its trivial deficiencies to take root. Though obviously imperfect, the theme park world – with its secret passages and hidden scientists playing God over their creations – still resonates as a cautionary warning decades after it was conceived. “Be careful what you wish for,” it reminds viewers constantly, “or it, indeed, will be the death of you.” Unlike what Kubrick did with 2001 or Schaffner achieved with Apes, Crichton quietly opens the door to tomorrow in order to prove such mass-produced pomp and circumstance is ultimately as empty and unfulfilling as it is dangerous.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Westworld (1973) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
For those who missed it, the genre was evolving, almost at warp speed. The late 1960’s had shown the industry and its audience that there was a market for serious subjects within a category that had only years before been predicated on radioactively-enhanced insects, goofy spaceships soaring against obvious studio backdrops, and rubber-masked aliens invading Earth for whatever purpose. Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek (1965-1968) showed that the classic morality play fit comfortably within the rubric of exploring strange new worlds. Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) proved that special effects and storytelling could be joined at the hip with big ideas and even bigger execution. And Twentieth Century Fox’s Planet Of The Apes (1968) served up themes both socially relevant and relatable in a construct that audiences readily embraced without being required to think too deeply about any of it.
It’s this foundation that pushed storytellers to wade even deeper into what would’ve only years earlier had been considered treacherous waters. 1971’s The Andromeda Strain melded meaty concepts – i.e. a spaceborne virus threatening mankind, cutting-edge science serving as our only potential salvation – into a picture that drew the attention of both the Academy Awards and the Hugo Awards, organizations that had previously only sparingly seen eye-to-eye. 1972’s Silent Running plumbed the depths of just how fragile our environment might be while examining the lengths one man might go to save it. And 1973’s Soylent Green became one of the bleakest Dystopian tales of theatrical record, pitting a lone New York City detective against a conspiracy covering up how far the global elite might go to maintain civil order.
It should come as no surprise that Michael Crichton’s Westworld (1973) came to life in this era blending science fact with reality. While some might suggest that the thriller is a bit of a narrative throwback to the days when SciFi and Fantasy resembled carnival rides more than they did college theses, there’s still no denying that writer/director Crichton had some serious things to say about our civilization’s growing dependency on technology while ignoring the fact that we, culturally, were also dragging our deep-seated weaknesses with us along for the ride. In the picture, he creates a veritable Disneyland where men and women could indulge in their sanest, sincerest, and sickest fantasies seemingly without consequence, only to have those ticket buyers eventually reminded that nothing (but nothing) in life ever comes for free. In fact, the price might be one’s mortal soul.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A robot malfunction creates havoc and terror for unsuspecting vacationers at a futuristic, adult-themed amusement park.”
Best buds Peter Martin (played by Richard Benjamin) and John Blane (James Brolin) are seeking an escape from their daily lives; and Westworld – a place where Blane has been before – certainly more than suffices. Instead of the usual diversions, Westworld – and its sister Delos environments of RomanWorld and MedievalWorld – grants vacationers the opportunity to indulge in pure Fantasy by transporting them – with new identities – to other times and other places. Once there, parkgoers have free reign to engage in whatever level of morality or debauchery they choose … with a bit of fun-spirited wickedness generally being allowed to rule the day. As gunslingers, Martin and Blane set their sights on gunplay, fisticuffs, and soiling more than a few of the lonesome doves who live and work upstairs in the city saloon.
Meanwhile … behind the curtain …
Delos Parks’ supervisor (Alan Oppenheimer) and his fellow lab-coated science nerds find themselves in the midst of a quandary: the robots have slowly begun breaking out of their regularly scheduled programming, showing signs suggesting that some computer virus may have given these automatons much more free will than was ever intended. One by one, the system failures begin to mount. When a fetching palace servant Daphne (Anne Randall) suddenly resists the lecherous carnal advances of a paying customer, the supervisor realizes that these malfunctions pose greater risk than first theorized. However, before he can convince his counterparts that all systems should be taken offline, chaos ensues when Westworld’s resident gunslinger (Yul Brynner) decides he’s lost one too many shootouts and attempts to extract vengeance on the nebbish Martin.
To Crichton’s credit (and genius), Westworld is arguably one of the most relatable SciFi-themed catastrophes ever brought to film; and his construct of having creations turn on the creator is a proven formula that he revisits again – in book format – with his 1990 novel “Jurassic Park.” (Yes, it was rather famously been adapted for the screen by Steven Spielberg in 1993.) Biblical parallels aside, we – as a species – remain imperfect; as such, damn near anything we create is going to bring these imperfections along, especially when we give them human (much less dinosaur) shape. Essentially, audiences likely go in with full knowledge that these animatronic inventions are little more than ticking time bombs waiting to explode; so there’s plenty of understandable tension in waiting patiently for Hell to break loose. It does, and – despite the fact that everyone knew it was coming – the results are stark, nonetheless.
Furthermore, Crichton deserves praise for serving up characters whose personalities are equally easy to access. Benjamin’s Martin is that awkward fellow we’ve all known at some point in our lives, the kind endlessly befriended by others because he’s no threat nor wishes harm upon his fellow man. In contrast, Brolin’s macho Blane looks the part of the typical screen hero: he bears chiseled good looks, speaks few words but keeps them full of confidence, and likely paired up with Martin in the outside world because he’s clearly no threat to his own masculinity. Together, they make a likable pair, not quite the embodiment of epic cowboys though both appear willing to indulge in one of their earliest boy fantasies. Of the two, Martin is the least superficial; and yet even he finds himself wrapped up in the world of make believe to the point of surrendering his own moral code when the lovely Arlette (Linda Gaye Scott) wants nothing more than an inconsequential ‘roll in the hay.’
While Westworld remains incredible lean in its running time, Crichton debatably indulges himself in one too many pratfalls not long after the film’s midpoint: Martin and Blane’s last night in merriment descends into a hellacious bar fight, an event that frankly grinds the otherwise thoughtful story to a halt on behalf of chaotic lunacy. Thematically, perhaps the writer/director wanted to show just how far off kilter the pursuit of personal paradise might take any person who purchases a ticket. While that’s all well and good, there’s no escaping the fact that the sequence stretches on far longer than necessary: well after the point has been made, our two leads are still portrayed symbolically as boys swinging from the rafters when we were all well aware long ago that boys just wanna have fun.
Westworld (1973) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that this film both looks and sounds absolutely incredible: it’s definitely an upgrade that makes the flick worth seeing, especially for those who may have never had the privilege. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a good audio commentary (frankly, it’s a bit too off-topic for my tastes, exploring more of the MGM studio history than relates directly to the film) along with interviews, a fabulous critical essay, the pilot for the Beyond Westworld TV series, and a few other items. It’s a wonderful assortment, as usual with Arrow Films.
Strongly Recommended.
As a tentpole SciFi film, Westworld (1973) suffers in small walls by allowing its characters to give in a bit too much to their most juvenile pursuits: the barfight (while a necessary Western trope) is far too comedic to be taken seriously, and Benjamin’s Peter Martin is bit too puritanical at times to be considered authentic. Still, director Crichton rather efficiently keeps the picture moving so deftly most of the time that there’s little to no room for any of its trivial deficiencies to take root. Though obviously imperfect, the theme park world – with its secret passages and hidden scientists playing God over their creations – still resonates as a cautionary warning decades after it was conceived. “Be careful what you wish for,” it reminds viewers constantly, “or it, indeed, will be the death of you.” Unlike what Kubrick did with 2001 or Schaffner achieved with Apes, Crichton quietly opens the door to tomorrow in order to prove such mass-produced pomp and circumstance is ultimately as empty and unfulfilling as it is dangerous.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Westworld (1973) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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