The Night of the Following Day

Director: Hubert Cornfield
Writers: Hubert Cornfield, Robert Phippeny (screenplay) Lionel White (novel)
Starring: ‎Marlon Brando, Rita Moreno, Richard Boone, Pamela Franklin
Year: 1969
Duration: 94 mins
BBFC Certification: 18

For a screen legend more infamously known for his eccentricity and reclusiveness, it is often surprising to be reminded just how prolific Marlon Brando was in the first half of his career. From the early fifties right up until the end of the sixties, Brando made dozens of films, with many forgotten or neglected ones nestling alongside such titans as On The Waterfront or A Streetcar Named Desire. One such film is 1969’s The Night of the Following Day, a strange and sombre movie that casts Brando, rather implausibly, as a criminal thug involved in the kidnapping of a young girl.

Based on the 1953 novel The Snatchers by popular crime writer Lionel White, the story had initially attracted directors such as Stanley Kubrick. Kubrick, however, was unable to put the film into production due to rules about depicting kidnapping on screen in the early sixties. By 1969, these rules had lapsed, so graphic designer turned director Hubert Cornfield, who had personally acquired the novel’s rights, set about making a movie adaption himself.

The plot very much belongs in B movie thriller territory. A criminal gang consisting of Chauffeur (Brando), Blonde (Rita Moreno), Leer (Richard Boone) and Friendly (Jess Hahn) kidnap the daughter (Pamela Franklin) of a wealthy businessman at a French airport. They take her to a remote, seaside house in Brittany to wait out a few days until they can instigate their plan for a ransom. One of their number, however, turns out to have ulterior motives, as they seek to destroy the gang and claim the ransom for themselves. 

The bones of this plot could have easily produced a fun yet admittedly unoriginal crime picture, yet something altogether stranger and more unconventional emerges under Cornfield’s direction, resulting in a film that takes as much from auteurist European cinema and Arthur Penn’s American New Wave as it does from the standard Hollywood playbook of nourish thriller.

Defined by a slow, steady pace and a focus on mundane details, The Night of the Following Day for the most part feels rather unremarkable and grounded, which works more for the film than against it, allowing the story to play out with a sense of gritty realism as opposed to overwrought melodrama or histrionics. Aside from a few, isolated set-pieces, Cornfield is also far more interested in his criminal characters and their group dynamic than he is with Pamela Franklin’s victim. This isn’t a film that elicits tension through how the ‘Girl’ (as she is known) will escape. Indeed, the inciting incident at the French airport could very well go down as one of cinema’s most relaxed kidnappings.

Instead, what Cornfield focuses on are the tensions and eventual breakdowns within the group itself, capturing the fracturing relationships with a sense of resignation and fatalism that recalls the ennui explored so coldly in Jean-Pierre Melville’s work. Blonde is a former drug addict lapsing back into addiction, Chauffeur doesn’t trust Leer, while Friendly seems to have bitten off far more than he can chew. What results is a slow study of disintegration, violence and betrayal, that tie the film right into the Hollywood New Wave, with a Bonnie and Clyde   style exploration of criminals presented not as villains but as doomed anti-heroes.

For Brando in particular, it feels highly unusual, almost novel, to see him appearing in a film of this type, in what could be called a low grade thriller. Yet perhaps it was not surprising at this point in his career. After on set clashes and ego almost sunk The Mutiny on the Bounty several years previously, Brando had become toxic in Hollywood, deemed as far too difficult and unpredictable to work with, especially on productions with large budgets that had a lot to lose. Unfortunately, his on set behaviour hadn’t improved by the time it came to film The Night of the Following Day. He clashed severely with Cornfield, which saw Brando arguing over the script, refusing to smile for one important shot and turning up to the set drunk. It all got too much for the director, who left the film towards the end of the shoot, leaving Richard Boone to pick up the megaphone for the few final scenes.

Not that these tensions are all that evident when watching the finished result. Brando, looking incredibly fit and good looking, turns in a typically intense and charismatic performance, yet he strangely feels a little bit out of place, like a powerful leader who has somehow found themselves stuck in the role of a subordinate. Perhaps Brando’s screen presence was just too large to convince us that he was just another ‘member’ of a gang. The other cast members fair better, especially Rita Moreno, who successfully proved that there was far more to her than just playing ‘fiery Latino’ stereotypes and Richard Boone, whose everyday depiction of perversion and evil is chilling.

Yet problems behind the scenes do manifest themselves in other ways. Despite the best efforts of the cast, characters frequently feel undeveloped, as if we are only seeing the tip of the iceberg compared to what was in White’s original novel. Some dialogue scenes too feel loose and unfocused, as though they have been improvised on the spot. At moments like this, it almost feels like a student production; albeit one that starts Marlon Brando. The ending, too, was subject to much controversy upon the film’s original release. Luckily, The Night of the Following Day’s conclusion offers up much for interpretation, so perhaps it is best not to take it on face value.

Despite these faults, The Night of the Following Day remains a somber and unconventional little thriller that is elevated by its stars and Cornfield’s unique, Melville inspired direction. Haunting and bleak, it doesn’t offer either its characters or its audience much chance at redemption. And while it may be uneven and rough around the edges, the overall air of darkness and resigned melancholy ensures that it will linger in the memory for far longer than you might expect.

Film:

The Night of the Following Day is being released on Blu Ray via Indicator. The HD master for the film was supplied by Universal and unfortunately it is not in pristine shape. There are some colour fluctuations in certain scenes and print damage in others. Most damningly of all, there are some moments and shots that are even out of focus. I’m assuming those errors must have been in the original OCN but it is a shame that the film hasn’t had a better restoration…but with something this niche, I doubt it ever will. Outside of these problems, however, Indicator perform their usual sterling job on the visual and audio front, where the rest of the film looks sharp and filmic, with a typically great encode and clear sound.

Indicator offer a few extras on the the disc. First up is a commentary with The Night of the Following Day’s director Hubert Cornfield. He discusses his problems working with Brando, his admiration for Rita Moreno, as well as covering more technical aspects of the film and his artistic influences. Unfortunately, Cornfield is occasionally difficult to understand as he talks through a speaking valve throughout (you may have seen a Val Kilmer use a similar device to help him communicate) and he also goes silent for long periods of time – be aware of this before you settle down to watch!

The star of the disc is undoubtedly an hour long interview with Rita Moreno, held at the BFI in 2013. She mainly discusses her early career, working on films such as Singin’ in the Rain and West Side Story. Moreno is refreshingly and almost disarmingly honest throughout, where she openly discusses the racial stereotyping and sexual assaults that she experienced during the opening stages of her career. A few of these stories (including one set at a lavish party in Hollywood) are actually quite horrific to listen to. Despite the sometimes difficult content, this is an essential watch – just wait till you hear Moreno’s snarky comments about former boyfriend Brando right towards the end.

Rounding up the disc is a 20 minute appreciation from Neil Sinyard, who offers a concise and interesting analysis of the film before delving a little bit more into Cornfield’s career, a 3 minute trailer commentary from Joe Dante from Trailers from Hell, the original trailer itself and a sizeable image gallery containing 55 promotional images for the film.

Indicator also include one of their fabulous booklets. This contains a critical essay by Jeff Billington, who, apart from offering some great background info, offers some interesting interpretations of the film’s ending, a short newspaper piece on Brando from 1968 and a long personal statement from Cornfield himself (written in 1962) where he offers some biographical info and his theories and thoughts on cinema. A selection of contemporary reviews are also offered.

Disc/Extras: