Bloody Politics

Round-up articles on the new movies tend to divide them into two categories: the political (specifically, McCarthy-era revisionist) and the violent. Marathon Man, subtitled “A Thriller,” is always put in the second category. Apart from the villain’s being a Nazi —which doesn’t, after all, distinguish it from a Helen MacInnes novel—I was not aware when I walked into the theater that the movie had any politics. In fact, what distinguishes it from its fellows is no doubt what has also kept it from being discussed in political terms: the exquisite subtlety of its political orchestration. Unlike The Front, The Way We Were, television’s Fear on Trial—with them you can argue— the politics in Marathon Man are not offered as ideas; they are merely juxtapositions. When the reviewers notice them at all, itisasa theme that is not “developed.” In fact, it is developed precisely as well as it needs to be. Consider.

The hero, named—are you ready for this?—Thomas Babington Levy (Dustin Hoffman), is a clever, endearing, but nose-thumbingly scruffy little schlemiel of a graduate student and would-be marathon runner, whose father, as it just happens (flashback to c. 1953, with sepia film of cute little boy playing on a swing), was accused by Joe McCarthy of something, we are never told quite what (sound of gunshot), the shame of which pushed him to drink and eventually suicide (father lies bleeding on living-room floor, gun in hand). Thomas Babington (Babe) is writing his dissertation, “The Use of Tyranny in American Political Life,” to prove his father’s innocence. Babe’s rich older brother, Doc, is thought to be an Establishment oil executive. “I think my father would have disowned him,” Babe tells his professor; but little does he know with how much reason. For Doc is not an executive at all. He is both a member of “The Division”— “When the gap gets too large between what the FBI can handle effectively and what the CIA will deal with, that’s when we come in”—and, under orders from The Division, a courier for a Nazi death-camp torturer named Christian Szell (Laurence Olivier), now living in Uruguay. Szell comes to New York, and Babe gets caught between him and the couriers whom he has ceased to trust. Szell kills Doc and, with the help of a member of The Division, tortures Babe to find out what he knows.

About the Author

Linda Bridges

Ms. Bridges is the former editor-at-large of National Review.

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Round-up articles on the new movies tend to divide them into two categories: the political (specifically, McCarthy-era revisionist) and the violent. Marathon Man, subtitled “A Thriller,” is always put in the second category. Apart from the villain’s being a Nazi —which doesn’t, after all, distinguish it from a Helen MacInnes novel—I was not aware when I walked into the theater that the movie had any politics. In fact, what distinguishes it from its fellows is no doubt what has also kept it from being discussed in political terms: the exquisite subtlety of its political orchestration. Unlike The Front, The Way We Were, television’s Fear on Trial—with them you can argue— the politics in Marathon Man are not offered as ideas; they are merely juxtapositions. When the reviewers notice them at all, itisasa theme that is not “developed.” In fact, it is developed precisely as well as it needs to be. Consider.

The hero, named—are you ready for this?—Thomas Babington Levy (Dustin Hoffman), is a clever, endearing, but nose-thumbingly scruffy little schlemiel of a graduate student and would-be marathon runner, whose father, as it just happens (flashback to c. 1953, with sepia film of cute little boy playing on a swing), was accused by Joe McCarthy of something, we are never told quite what (sound of gunshot), the shame of which pushed him to drink and eventually suicide (father lies bleeding on living-room floor, gun in hand). Thomas Babington (Babe) is writing his dissertation, “The Use of Tyranny in American Political Life,” to prove his father’s innocence. Babe’s rich older brother, Doc, is thought to be an Establishment oil executive. “I think my father would have disowned him,” Babe tells his professor; but little does he know with how much reason. For Doc is not an executive at all. He is both a member of “The Division”— “When the gap gets too large between what the FBI can handle effectively and what the CIA will deal with, that’s when we come in”—and, under orders from The Division, a courier for a Nazi death-camp torturer named Christian Szell (Laurence Olivier), now living in Uruguay. Szell comes to New York, and Babe gets caught between him and the couriers whom he has ceased to trust. Szell kills Doc and, with the help of a member of The Division, tortures Babe to find out what he knows.