“Dillinger” (1973)
This ain’t no “Public Enemies”… the directorial debut of red meat legend John Milius, “Dillinger” aims to probe the life of the wily criminal from a ground-level approach. Using a typically jittery turn from Warren Oates, “Dillinger” almost feels like a western. Its nattily dressed band of criminals seem like they’re under no illusion as to where they’re going, fueled not by Dillinger’s charisma, but his nervous, desperate energy, and all parties involved clearly feel as if they’re punching a clock. “Dillinger” is very much not about Dillinger’s criminal spirit as much as it’s about desperate men weathering the Depression, as riches aren’t the desired commodity as much as peace of mind. Oates is superb in the lead, naturally; as much as Johnny Depp was swathed in moviestar charisma in his turn as Dillinger, Oates comes from a place of itchy flopsweat and broken dreams. But the entire cast delivers a sea of grace notes, particularly Richard Dreyfuss as the new guard, the morally-bankrupt Babyface Nelson, but it’s impossible to forget the sadness of Homer Van Meter. As played by a typically glum Harry Dean Stanton, he’s one of the most pained of this ragtag gang of killers, and his final moment, coming face to face with an angry crowd of similarly desperate citizens, is a microcosm of the film’s attitude towards the era’s struggles.
“Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia” (1974)
The Warren Oates and Sam Peckinpah relationship was a complicated and ambivalent one full of extremes. “I don’t think he’s a horrible maniac; he injures your innocence, and you get pissed off about it,” he once famously said. Just three years earlier, Peckinpah had taken away the promised lead role in “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” (it went to Jason Robards instead), but here he was again in the lead of one of Peckinpah’s scuzziest films “Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia” (their third and final film together). Shot in Mexico and on the cheap, Oates was at home playing a reprobate drunk not unlike his friend the director (even borrowing Peckinpah’s sunglasses for the character) and the story is pretty damn rich. ‘Alfredo Garcia’ centers on, initially, a wealthy Mexican businessman who places a million dollar bounty on the man (the titular character) who broke his daughter’s heart. The vultures descend and two opportunists hire a local barkeep, Oates, to do the dirty work for them. Problem is Garcia died in an accident the previous week, but hellbent on scoring the payday, Oates decides to go on a roadtrip (with his prostitute girlfriend who slept with Garcia) to dig up the body and retrieve the head (which he barters for $10,000 to the duo who hired him in the first place). On the way there’s lots of booze, sex, attempted rapes, and plenty of mercenaries just as intent on collecting the same bounty. But what’s left in the wake of Oates’ smoking pistol is a trail of destruction and death. One could be mistaken if they thought the picture was a Peckinpah autobiography of a weekend in Tijuana. Sordid like a grimy armpit stain and underwear that hasn’t been changed for days, throughout ‘Alfredo Garcia,’ Oates keeps it lean and mean, mostly taciturn, and with just a hint of a soft spot for the whore he loves.
“Cockfighter” (1974)
Directors of note had an affinity for Oates’ grizzled mug and his no-nonsense approach. Apart from Sam Peckinpah (who eventually ruined this friendship), the filmmaker best associated with Oates is Monte Hellman. Their third film together, “Cockfighter,” features Oates as the mute and defeated title character who looks back on everything he’s lost. Arrogant, an offhand boast costs him not only the Cockfighter of the Year award and best prizefighting bird, but along with it his trailer, most of his money and his girlfriend in one of the most unwise bets ever made on screen. Disgraced, Oates’ Frank Mansfield takes on a vow of silence until he can redeem himself. Along the way to redemption, Oates is forced to choose between love and cockfighting and you can guess which one wins out in the end. Co-starring Harry Dean Stanton, Laurie Bird and Ed Begley Jr. and loosely structured after the Odyssey, while bloody, slow and grim, “Cockfighter” is surprisingly poignant, in part, thanks to Oates’ cockeyed stare and silent, but evocative empathy.