The name may not resonate with
the same sort of pop culture familiarity as Shaft (1971) or Super Fly
(1972), but Slaughter (1972)looms large as a striking film
in the annals of Blaxploitation cinema. As his theme song proclaims (yes, he
too has a theme song, courtesy of Billy Preston), Slaughter is "big, bad,
black and bold," every bit as much as the protagonists of these more iconic
titles, perhaps even more so. If Slaughter embodies the no-nonsense toughness
seen in characters like Shaft, Priest from SuperFly, Goldie from
TheMack (1973), and Tommy Gibbs from BlackCaesar
(1973), as well as their canny suavity and bravado, his next closest filmic kin
might be Rudy Ray Moore's Dolemite
(1975). With this outlandish character, Slaughter shares a penchant for
exaggerated movements and posturing, and as such, he is as unsubtle as
Dolemite, though he and the film in general are far more serious. Or, at least
it takes itself more serious.
Available now on a bare-bones
Blu-ray from Olive Films, Slaughter was released in 1972 by American
International Pictures and was produced by the legendarily eclectic Samuel Z.
Arkoff, who in the months immediately to follow would continue in the
Blaxploitation vein, with Blacula (1972), Coffy (1973), Hell
Up in Harlem (1973), and the Slaughter sequel, Slaughter's Big
Rip-Off (1973). Penning the script was Mark Hanna, the scribe behind 1957's
The Amazing Colossal Man and 1958's Attack
of the 50 Foot Woman, along with Don Williams, whose sole credits include
this film, its sequel, and Blood, Black and White (1973), all three of
which he had a hand in producing. Slaughter was also the fifth feature
film directed by Jack Starrett, who would compile quite the roster of titles as
director and actor, in both film and television. But the star of the show, of
course, is Jim Brown, the great NFL fullback (Cleveland Browns, 1957-1965), in this,
his twelfth film role, just a year after his induction into the Pro Football
Hall of Fame.
As the film gets started,
former Green Beret Captain Slaughter seeks to uncover the mystery of who
ordered a recent hit on his father. Given that the senior Slaughter had
questionable underworld connections, the investigation inevitably leads to some
unsavory associations and the suggestion that his fate was, in a sense,
unavoidable. When Slaughter seeks information from family friend and apparently
shady acquaintance Jenny (Marion Brash), before she is likewise violently
dispatched, she barely consuls him with, "It comes with the
business." Slaughter then takes matters into his own hands, hunting down
the probable mastermind, crashing a stolen car into the villain's taxiing
plane, and coming out of the wreckage guns blazing. The attack is only partly
successful, though, and the hitman, Dominic Hoffo (Rip Torn), manages to
escape. What is more, Treasury Department officials who were also after the
same man call Slaughter for interference. Since he interrupted their operation,
Slaughter is recruited to assist the feds in order to avoid prison time. He
agrees, and it's off to South America.
There he wastes no time landing
smack in the middle of a preexisting power struggle between the bizarrely
captivating Mario Felice (Norman Alfe—his lone acting credit), who reigns
supreme in the regional drug enterprise, and up-and-coming underling Dominic,
who has resentfully had enough of playing second fiddle. First, the two men
enlist arm-candy Ann (Stella Stevens) to sway the meddlesome stranger, but
Slaughter promptly beds the beauty, compounding the animosity and stealing the
girl for good. More drastic measures thus become necessary.
The South American setting gives Slaughter a degree of exoticism relatively rare for a Blaxploitation film, especially one on the lower budgetary rung, but it also gives Slaughter himself sufficient territory within which to play up his fish out of water status. Wherever he goes, even if he dresses the part, Slaughter sticks out like a sore thumb. Much of this has to do with his outright refusal to assimilate, to assume any identity that isn't innately his own. And why should he? In the finest tradition of autonomous "I work alone" my-way-or-the-highway action heroes, Slaughter embarks on his own brand of straight lined investigation, where he has little time or patience for cordiality, protocol, or sidestepping his desired outcome. If something needs done, Slaughter does it. He shows no hesitation. Some man is waiting in his hotel room; Slaughter instantly punches him in the face. Slaughter is told where the bad guys are, but is warned not to rush in; he immediately goes there to confront them. Slaughter is like a walking Chuck Norris joke, where the world is altered by his presence and must adjust to his way of doing things.
An early contest in terms of resistance to Slaughter's stalwart machismo comes in the form of Kim (Marlene Clark), who pretends to be a reporter but is actually a federal agent. She unflinchingly confronts Slaughter, holding her own and insisting he will do what he is told. Since their first encounter—and even after he tosses her out of his apartment stark naked—their continuing banter hardly hides a sexual tension that was obvious from the start, yet quickly dissipates with the arrival of Ann. On the other hand is Harry (Don Gordon), Slaughter's partner on the inside, an agent who knows the ins and outs of Felice's operation. As ever-present as he is, as a character, Harry serves to play the comic relief but is of little substance otherwise.
Though Slaughter rarely cracks a smile, there is, nevertheless, a stoically suppressed enjoyment in his destruction. There is no doubt about it, he has style, and he exudes a carefree confidence (casually whistling, just to help get the point across). Starrett's direction, however, isn't quite so slick. A degree of discontinuity is not unusual for a film like this, so Slaughter gets something of a pass there, and even with the inconsistent, erratic action sequences there remains a thrilling vitality. But just as often, certain dramatic sequences are also choppy, and certain formal choices, like a recurring, random, and rather weird wide-angle perspective, do not mesh well within the general look of the film.
In what is pitch-perfect casting, Brown plays Slaughter to a T. He and Starrett never miss an opportunity to put the football star's obvious physicality on display, with ample space and time for running, jumping, and fighting, usually in the same scene or even single shot. He cuts quite the figure, and is easily the point of focus no matter the camera angle or shot size; it's often as if the camera can't help but render his presence larger than life. More than a narcissistic showcase for Brown (though there may be some of that), his real-life athleticism gives notable credence to a lot of what Slaughter does throughout the film—in other words, Brown really could move like this. If the fight scenes work as well as they do, it is largely because he is enthusiastically fast and ferocious. The pinnacle of the often hilariously over the top action is when Brown expertly and effortlessly emerges from a moving car as it slides to a stop, opening fire as he smoothly swings open the door and lands perfectly on his feet.