I love the concept. Coming from the greek for alteration, parallax refers to using multiple points of view to determine distance. It doesn’t take much twisting to say another definition would be the use of altered states as depth perception.
So, I dig the term, but I had no idea what the movie was about. Some 70’s flick that a friend in college told me about. The high was hitting and I had no better ideas so away we go.
We start in Seattle where some uber-politician is meeting throngs of blathering idiots. He is so loved and handsome and doesn’t follow either political party. Obviously he’s not going to make it to the opening credits. There is some confusion, a trip up the space needle. Bang. Bang. Dead senator. The gun man is chased over the edge. Splat.
Hokey and fun assassination to kick things off, but not really convincing. Then the movie starts. Some sort of government tribunal is going to release the findings of the investigation. This is not a press conference.
There will be no questions.
The grueling strain of intensity starts. Something is happening here. And, what it is ain’t exactly clear. The hip Warren Beatty, cynical and self assured, swaggers around owning the world. We saw him briefly at the space needle. Now, he is the coolest rebel reporter to ever humiliate a figure of authority.
Through a meeting with a fellow Space Needle alum, we get a peek into the paranoia that followed the assassination. Beatty dismisses it all, but he happens to have all the facts and theories right at his finger tips. Then it starts. He has a doubt.
And doubt leads to paranoia. And paranoia leads to schizophrenia. But not for him. This taste of the frizzle fry hits the couch-locked much harder than Mr. Cool.
The special sauce that this film has for the high minded is an alternate track. You see, there is the intricate and impenetrable plot and intrigue. Simultaneously, those with ears to hear are led down another path. Where Taxi Driver brings insight through observation, The Parallax View begins to pour the crazy right in the ear hole.
You begin to wonder if this is some sort of training video.
The pacing often makes it difficult to straddle those rails. And the melon twisting details layer on top and beside. Connections. Innuendo. The Obvious. Love. Country. You. Happiness.
All the sober folk in the room fell asleep well before the slick resolution. Even the elevated could drift off here and there. But if you are jones-ing for a post Kennedy paranoid retro psycho-bomb with a mind-fucking intermission, Turn the vaporizer to 11 and put your hands on the white box.
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