WUSA (1970)

To say that WUSA is a hot movie would be an understatement. From our opening scenes of a Mardi Gras festival about to begin to the constant perspiration of our central characters, WUSA not only visually puts us deep into the South, but physically places us there as well. WUSA represents one of those internal films that is difficult for the American populace to swallow. It is a film about race. It is a film about prejudice. It is a film about individual self. As WUSA opens, it is quiet. The festival is about to begin, and like the audience, there is a looming sense of unknown. What is this movie about? Why is it quoted as his "favorite" by Paul Newman? With the last question lingering on your tongue, it begins. The parade yells, the people destroy, and Newman's Rheinherdt stumbles, literally, into town. Like a gunslinger just passing through, Newman is armed with merely a thermos full of liquor, a conservative mind, and a past that takes nearly two hours to undress.



So it begins. WUSA's central protagonist is discovered, but unlike the typical linear film, two other determined, emotionally challenged characters walk into the quintessential bar. One, a man with a slight studder who believes he is working for the Welfare system, the other, a homeless woman with a scar just trying to get a good meal for the evening. As both of these (as well as Newman) walk through the streets of Louisiana, it quickly becomes hotter. Newman, hugging his thermos like it is his personal protector, stumbles into Joanne Woodward, and together a spark in the heat is developed. Meanwhile, Anthony Perkins surveys the other side of the South. The questionable ethics of the Welfare system is discovered, and what already feels like your sitting on the sun, suddenly explodes. The visuals that director Stuart Rosenberg brings to the table are nearly that of von Trier's chaotic images of America. They are bold, beautiful, sad, triumphant, and debilitating to the mind all at the same time. He not only uses actors to take on the roles of those with needs, but also inserts fantastic in-time photos of life in the South. Images have that 1,000 word opportunity:



Racial moments, scratching for an opportunity to breathe, the heat of the South all swirl together to bring you the backbone of this film, but there is another element trying to peak from beneath the sheets. That is our title character. Our radio station WUSA who pushes the envelope of suspense and quickly transforms into our villainous cohort. Rosenburg isn't afraid to demonstrate how evil this radio station is with an iconic shot that had to be reported. Check out this pre-Guy Ritchie scene that just leaks cool and pushes the boundaries of this little independent unknown.


This is a film that speaks about its audience, not to it. As we listen to the pit-bull owner of the station talk about big things, about the change in their dynamic, and decidedly about Newman's role in the upcoming rally, the words speak about the media today. They open the window towards the future, and WUSA takes on a whole new shape as the speaker of not just racism in the media, but also the role media will play in accordance with news. As the heat continues to grow, our characters cannot help but become further intertwined. As the community speaks about the horrors of WUSA, Perkins pushes himself onto Newman, questioning his very words. Newman in turn continues to drink, and falls into the arms of Woodward, who feels more like a child of the 60s then a genuine character. Despite her inability to bring emotions or full lines to the surface, she looks good making this picture, and matches well with Newman's startling blue eyes (which is why they worked in real life as well).



With fans blowing cool ice, hippies living next door, the inevitable picture explodes before us. To continue to use words that are heat induced, it only compliments this film. There is a tense scene over drinks and drugs on a hot night as Newman argues semantics with Perkins, pushing the envelope of truth and discovering the two sides to this pot boiling story. Then, the event happens.

Originally outsourced as a huge, life-changing event slowly transforms into lifeless blubber and a disappointing finale that couldn't match that of the early intensity. Newman mutters his way until the final credits, giving a very slight indication of what life looked like. The surprise with Perkins and the continued misguidance of Woodward, merely add to this limber ending. WUSA had the balls to become a very timely and still relevant film, but this ending flounded any possiblities.

I wanted to like this film, and in the end I am thankful that I saw it. Up through the first 3/4ths of this movie, I was standing in front of a hot stove on summer waiting for the American Pie to be ready, but in the end, all I had was a burnt mess of what could have been a joyous eating experience. Paul Newman, despite the ending, was amazing. Pulling from a young Marlon Brando vs. the Newman career that existed prior to his death. Joanne Woodward was beautiful, and together their chemistry was not bounded by the film, while Anthony Perkins gave us a startling truth about religion, persona, and values. Rosenburg's direction was tight and scenes just oozed beauty. Watch where his camera finds its shots. Plenty of close-ups and under the table shots, continuing to give us that moment of honest coupled with cramp living quarters. Again, this was a hot film and Rosenburg never let us forget that. The side stories remained invaluable, while the ending is what lost me.


Overall, this was a great film, but could have been a bit tighter by the end. Found in my "Videohound 2002" book, this will sadly get a pink highlight. Liked it, but didn't love it merely due to the ending. This was, and still is a powerful film, but unlike "Mississippi Burning", it just doesn't have that BAM! ending to it that leaves your jaws on the floor and honesty in your mind. I could easily suggest this film, but not watch again. What this film made me realize is that I need to see more young Paul Newman, more Joanne Woodward, and more more more Anthony Perkins, the man who did live outside of Psycho.