Dir.
Nicolas Roeg, Donald Cammell, 1970, UK, 105 mins
Cast:
James Fox, Mick Jagger, Anita Pallenberg, Michele Breton
Eventually released in 1970 after being delayed by two years, Performance is a film which on initial viewing fails to meet many of the audience's expectations. Those expecting a tough, noir gangster epic will be disappointed that this particular narrative strand occupies only a fraction of the running time. Despite the involvement of Mick Jagger, effectively playing on his own persona, the film is not a musical.
When Chas (Fox), a psychotic East London gangster needs a place to lie low after a hit, he finds the perfect cover in the form of guest house run by the mysterious, retired rocker, Mr Turner (Jagger). The longer he stays in the company of the reclusive star and his seductive sexual partners, the further away his identity seems to slip.
Capturing the dark side of swinging London (which was mercilessly lampooned as recently as the Austin Powers series) Performance is a film of near unbearable sexual paranoia. Every face we see seems to be judging Chas, watching him not just because of his crimes but also to see what Turner's influence will have on him. The film is wonderfully cast, with authentic gangster figures who have faces that are worn and broken.
James Fox is chillingly authentic as the dangerous and out of control thug who, despite being a man for whom sex is linked inextricably with violence and sadism,
phones his mum to notify her that he is leaving town. Perhaps indicative of its time, he is portrayed as inherently racist which makes his relationship with Lucy (Breton), the French maid a genuine shedding of his prejudice. As well as this, she is skinny lacking the voluptuous figure of Pherber (Pallenberg). As Chas remarks she looks "like a little boy" which immediately questions his sexual preferences. To compound this issue, in many scenes she looks like Jagger.
Taking obvious influence from the sexuality of the notorious Kray twins, the attitudes to homosexuality reflect the juxtaposition that gangsters were often bisexual. Chas's gangland bosses are decidedly camp and scenes which see them demonstrating effeminate mannerisms while fiddling with lampshades or lying in bed like an elderly married couple do nothing to diminish the sense of danger and power that these characters have over gangland London.
Although he has obvious chemistry with Pallenberg, Jagger does little more than speak his lines with his familiar drawl. A brief musical sequence showcases what he does best, oozing menace and charisma.
Typical of the time, Pallenberg signifies the exotic, sexually liberated foreign temptress. The film seems to hint that she corrupted Turner in the same way she corrupts Chas. She certainly plays a dominant role in the narrative, influencing Turner, Lucy and subsequently, Chas.
After such a strong opening, the narrative seems to lose its way. The scenes set in Turner's claustrophobic Notting Hill home which make up the final act of the film are deliberately confused and vague, yet they become tiresome very quickly with only brief moments of tension alleviating the malaise.
Despite its dark, downbeat themes, there are sparks of humour, particularly with the cockney daughter of Turner's 'daily' whose indifference to events going on around her is nearly always punctuated with her asking "Anyone want a cup o' tea?", and referring to Jagger's career as: "He had three number ones and two number twos and a number four.''
Cammell and Roeg play with time using flash forwards which would later be lauded in Roeg's own Don't Look Now. These experimental techniques effectively charge the film, taking a simply idea and invigorating it. Arguably the style is the substance with inventive camera work, sharp editing and original stylistic choices (the startling journey as we follow the path of a bullet into a brain being a stand out shot) are far more memorable than the plot.
A popular film with a loyal cult audience, Performance is still shocking almost 35 years on from its debut. The visceral scenes of gangland violence and the open attitudes to drug use and sexuality are outrageous and disturbing. The use of a hip soundtrack draws further comparisons with popular contemporary film makers like Guy Ritchie and Quentin Tarentino.
Jonathan Wilkins
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