The Last Detail (1973)

When thinking of great films starring the legend that is Jack Nicholson, few would immediately name this 1973 cult classic. However, Jack himself considers this his finest moment on screen, famously stating "I did it in that movie. That was my best role". When you watch this largely unheralded gem again now, it's not hard to see why. 

At the dawn of 'New Hollywood', Hal Ashby became quite an important figure. However, by 1973 he was coming off the back of the abject failure of 'Harold and Maude' (1971), both critically and commercially. By now that film has also achieved something of following itself, but back then this perceived misstep made Ashby most unbankable in the eyes of exec producers around the globe. This was a time when 'The Godfather' (1972) had just become a colossal smash and a new vanguard of directors were revolutionising the way films were viewed as an art-form and as an industry. Who had time for a micro-budget, slow-burning, character study about three blokes in the Navy? Especially directed by Hal Ashby, who was not only coming off the back of a failure, but was known for going AWOL at any given time during production - apparently part of his 'process'. Luckily, by this point Nicholson was a star and his interest in this film was enough to get it greenlit, despite his absolute insistence that his pal Hal be the man at the helm. And so began a low-budget shoot, filmed in chronological order, across the eastern United States. 

The plot is threadbare - two Naval officers have to escort a young seaman (no jokes, please) to serve a 8-year prison sentence. That's it. But this isn't a story about the plot, it's about the people in it. The two elder officers are Billy "Badass" Buddusky (Nicholson) and Richard "Mule" Mulhall (a superb turn from Otis Young) and they are, to quote the film itself "mean bastards when they wanna be, and they always wanna be". The youngster under their watch is one Larry Meadows, played by Randy Quaid in his breakout role. Larry is a mere 18-year old pup who has been sentenced to 8 years in Portsmouth Military Prison for the relatively small crime of stealing $40 from a polio charity collection box. The problem with this crime is that the polio charity in question is the top brass' wife's favourite "do gooder project" so he is being smacked with the full dick of the law. 

What transpires is a coming of age journey for all three men as they make their way north from Norfolk, VA to Massachusetts. At first, Nicholson's "badass" Buddusky has identified an immediate opportunity for mayhem, calculating that if they get the kid to jail in 2 days, that leaves him and Mule 5 days to spend everyone's per diem however they see fit. However, as the story unfolds, the pair of them feel inescapably sorry for Quaid and his gentle, hang-dog, state of being. The cracks start to appear in the hearts of these two old sea dogs almost immediately, but especially when Meadows sobs uncontrollably about how he doesn't mean to steal things, he simply can't help it. In any other actor's hands this may come across as an eye-roll moment where we're expected to sympathize with a common thief who you have just witnessed taking from a vulnerable old lady. However, because Quaid is so brilliant in this film, it is a moment which completely punches you in gut. You feel terrible for him. As do Buddusky and Mulhall. And so the three men strike up a strange and very tenuous friendship - with Badass deciding that he's going to show young Meadows a good time before they send him away for 8 years, delivering a movie quote so great that it even made the poster back in the day: 

"No f**king Navy's gonna give some poor f**king kid eight years in the f**king brig without me taking him out for the time of his f**king life" 

Speaking of profanity, Robert Towne's script had to go through many iterations before seeing the light of day. The chief complaint being that it had over 300 uses of the work 'f*ck' in the first 50 pages (according to Peter Biskind's book 'Raging Bulls and Easy Riders'). The final cut ended up with 65 uses of the word, which nowadays would barely register but in 1973 was quite the moral outrage. Towne's justification for use of such language was simply "this is how people talk when they are powerless to act". If that doesn't sum up humanity in the most poetic way imaginable, then I don't know what does. 

Regardless, as the journey goes on we begin to see Nicholson's performance really shine. He can do deranged mad man with the best of them, but here when it shows itself, he is so embodied in this character that something deeper begins to happen. Here is a man with no hope for a brighter future and has thus become a cynic, yet through Meadows he begins to see hope for humanity in this purest of souls. As a result, you see a spark of life surge through Buddusky's veins - a long-forgotten, childlike, energetic spirit beginning to shine through, taking positively any opportunity to let loose and go nuts. When viewed in this context, it's wonderful to see - even when he's behaving appallingly, as he often is. Of course none of this works without an anchor to ground everything and throughout this journey there are two. One is Mule himself. The ying to Buddusky's yang. He is the more pragmatic of the two and, where Buddusky resents his lot in life, Mulhall recognizes that he owes everything to the Navy and will do anything within his power not to jeopordise that. And yet, and yet, as tends to be the case with brotherhood's found in places like military institutes, whenever Buddusky finds himself in trouble (which, as you can imagine is quite often) Mule is always there to back his friend up - regardless of right or wrong. The other anchor holding proceedings down is the looming fact that they are essentially escorting a young man to his doom. Every time joy threatens to run away with them all, this fact rears it's head and brings everyone crashing back to earth, creating a strange dichotomy wherein the longer they spend together, the deeper their friendship goes, but the closer to the brig they travel. 

All of which makes for a fascinating, funny and surprisingly poignant look at masculinity, friendship, the perils of bureaucracy, and the passing of time. Because it's a Hal Ashby film, nothing is hurried. Scenes are often shot in master only, everything moves at his pace and, by operating in this fashion, he manages to exquisitely remove himself from the equation, letting the story simply unfold. Of course, there are moments of hilarity and all manner of drunken capers at the hands of the "Badass". But, again, it is all handled with a very deliberate pace - almost like a play - so rather than assault your senses with cuts and music and mayhem, instead the emotion and interplay between these three misfits unravels itself slowly, leaving quite the lingering mark after it's all over. 

Personally, I agree with Nicholson himself and think it's the best performance he's ever put on screen. He constantly chews up the scenery, but never takes it too far. The sadness and anger he hides behind a smile is always present. It's almost the part he was born to play. The same goes for Randy Quaid. Despite the fact that he towers over Nicholson and looks like he could quite easily overpower both of his escorts, there is something so childish and naive about this poor soul. It is a beautiful performance that quite rightly garnered him an Oscar nomination. Then there is Hal Ashby himself. His style of film-making is an almost extinct form now (save maybe someone like Alexander Payne), so this film is worth tuning into just for that alone. But coupled with a brilliant script and three outstanding performances at it's core, this is one of those films that not only endures, but offers more rewards with each viewing. 

★★★★☆

JB.