Gutted and Fleeced
Charles Burnett's acclaimed 1977 debut about life in Watts finally gets released
By Andy Klein
Charles Burnett's 1977 Killer of Sheep - like Thom Anderson's documentary Los Angeles Plays Itself, in which it figures - has never had a commercial release because of difficulties with rights clearances. As a result, it has become a sort of legend, seen only in the occasional festival or campus screening. It is surely one of the most critically praised American films seen by practically nobody; in 1990, it was included in the second batch of 25 titles to be placed in the National Film Registry by the National Film Preservation Board.
Now, as a long-overdue corrective, UCLA and Milestone Films have restored and released Killer of Sheep. The black-and-white visuals look great, and the audio elements are adequate. The rights have been obtained to use all but one of the songs, for which Burnett has chosen an appropriate substitute (though it would have been nice to have the restoration be complete).
Burnett made this debut feature as his thesis project at UCLA film school, shooting on weekends over an extended period, with almost no money. His subject is life in Watts, but the whole resonates beyond the neighborhood's African-American residents. The cultural details may be specifically black, but it's easy to export the film's central issues and observations to other groups. Poverty and loss of hope have no color boundaries.
It's hard to imagine Killer of Sheep receiving a regular release back then, even if the soundtrack clearances hadn't presented problems. It was made in a period when "black film" meant commercial, sensationalist blaxploitation. You can love movies like Cotton Comes to Harlem, Shaft, and Get Christie Love and still bemoan a marketplace in which they represented nearly the only depiction of black life.
Burnett's aesthetic strategy was unquestionably motivated in part as an antidote to the dominance of that genre. Influenced by Italian neorealism, he shot on location with a largely nonprofessional cast; a number of shots appear to have been captured spontaneously on the streets. He avoids emotional manipulation almost entirely, never telling us how to respond, but simply presenting the material without comment.
The protagonist is Stan (Henry Gayle Sanders), a hardworking man, verging on middle age, living in a bungalow with his wife and two children. We see Stan working in a slaughterhouse - these scenes provide the only moments that might be considered violent or bloody, though in a low-key way - where, as the title suggests, he kills, skins, and guts sheep.
But that's not the only implication of the title. As sure as the animals are pushed toward their fate by Stan, he is being pushed toward extinction by poverty and the listless meaninglessness that infects his life. As a family man, he refuses to get involved with the inevitable neighborhood criminals or with a flirtatious storekeeper, whose job offers seem to involve more than a working relationship.
Unfortunately, that leaves him no way out, no way up. His life is largely a succession of exhausting work days, which leave him so drained that he can no longer respond to his wife's emotional and physical needs.
There is no plot here. We simply eavesdrop on vignettes involving Stan and his family. And they are not all as depressing as the description may sound. There are moments of great humor, most involving Stan's daughter (played by Angela Burnett, the director's niece). A scene in which this six-year-old sings along offkey to Earth, Wind & Fire's "Reasons" - not conceivably understanding the sexual/romantic import of the lyrics - is both hilarious and strangely poignant.
Burnett has gone on to make other, more conventional features, most notably the terrific 1990 To Sleep with Anger, with Danny Glover. But Killer of Sheep remains one of a kind.
Published: 04/05/2007
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