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Jonathan Demme was one of the most idio­syn­cratic tal­ents to emerge from Roger Corman’s New World Pictures dur­ing its 1970’s hey­day.  Like most film­mak­ers, he worked to ful­fill Roger Corman’s inter­pre­ta­tion of what the b-movie audi­ence wanted, tack­ling spe­cific sub­gen­res at the producer’s behest.  However, Demme’s work remained uniquely his own because he was able to add both style and a human­ist point of view that brough rich­ness to what might have oth­er­wise been drive-in fodder.

That style can be fully felt in Fighting Mad, Demme’s third and final film as a direc­tor for Corman.  He wrote and directed the film to ful­fill Corman’s request for a “red­neck revenge” pic­ture that could appeal to the same audi­ences who went for Billy Jack and Walking Tall.  The sce­nario is built around a clas­sic lone-crusader fig­ure, Tom Hunter (Peter Fonda).  Tom returns to home to work with his father Jeff (John Doucette) and brother Charlie (a young Scott Glenn) on the fam­ily farm.

Unfortunately, a strip-mining oper­a­tion run by the unscrupu­lous Pierce Crabtree (Philip Carey) is buy­ing up all the sur­round­ing land for a devel­op­ment project.  Tom and his fam­ily are deter­mined to stand their ground but Crabtree resorts to vio­lent means to get his way — and when his fam­ily is affected, Tom decides to push back.  It’s inevitable that there will be a lot of blood on the ground before the inevitable mano-a-mano showdown.

The end result hits the expected plot beats and deliv­ers the drive-in sta­ples — some action, some chases, a lit­tle skin — but the way in which these ele­ments are deliv­ered in Fighting Mad shows the style that Demme would bring to his later, more pres­ti­gious films.  The key­word to define the director’s approach here is “nat­u­ral­ism”: he shot the the film on real loca­tions, used local color wher­ever pos­si­ble in the cast and used an almost doc­u­men­tary look that shies away from the kind of comic-book visual excesses you might expect from a b-movie.  Even the action scenes are designed to have a believ­able rough-and-tumble quality.

Demme’s nat­u­ral­is­tic approach is effec­tively sup­ported by a cast that under­plays instead of giv­ing into the kind of broad char­ac­ter­i­za­tions one often sees in rural-themed exploita­tion flicks.  Fonda nat­ural ten­dency for low-key act­ing makes his vari­a­tion on the lone cru­sader a like­ably quiet and enig­matic one (and thus more inter­est­ing when he snaps).  Carey makes for a smooth vil­lain and there’s nice sup­port from Lynn Lowry, who is like­ably down to earth as Tom’s con­cerned girl­friend.  Doucette also deserves notice for mak­ing his patri­arch char­ac­ter emo­tional with­out going over the top.

The direc­tor also gets strong work from his crew.  For instance, Michael Watkins’ cin­e­matog­ra­phy is gor­geous, mak­ing great use of the Arkansas loca­tions and effec­tively deploy­ing a shad­owy, naturally-lit look in the inte­rior sequences that is oft rem­i­nis­cent of sim­i­lar scenes in Rolling Thunder.  There’s also a unique musi­cal score by Bruce Langhorne, who mixes the expected Americana and coun­try music ele­ments with eerie, “whistling” ana­log synth sounds that give the score its own dis­tinc­tive flavor.

In short, Fighting Mad shows that Jonathan Demme had already devel­oped a skill at this early stage of his career for under­cut­ting genre clichés with an atten­tion to detail and an abil­ity to add nat­u­ral­is­tic touches that flesh out the more arche­typal ele­ments.  These skills make the film a very strong pro­gram­mer and well worth a look for any­one inter­ested in the bet­ter Corman pro­duc­tions of the 1970’s.

Fighting Mad / Moving Violation [Double Feature]

Fighting Mad / Moving Violation [Double Feature]

Fighting Mad / Moving Violation [Double Feature]      Fighting Mad: An Arkansas farmer stages a one-man war against cor­rupt land devel­op­ers who want to evict him and his neigh­bors from their farms for real estate devel­op­ments. Moving Violation: A young cou­ple wit­nesses a sher­iff mur­der­ing a police offi­cer. When the sher­iff real­izes that they saw him com­mit the crime, he char­ac­ter­izes them as ter­ror­ists and tries to frame them for the murder.