The Incident (1967)

The Incident (USA, 1967) 107 min B&W DIR: Larry Peerce. PROD: Edward Meadow. SCR: Nicholas E. Baehr. MUSIC: Charles Fox, Terry Knight. DOP: Gerald Hirschfeld. CAST: Victor Arnold, Robert Bannard, Beau Bridges, Ruby Dee, Robert Fields, Jack Gilford, Mike Kellin, Ed McMahon, Gary Merrill, Donna Mills, Tony Musante, Brock Peters, Thelma Ritter, Martin Sheen, Jan Sterling, Diana Van der Vlis, Henry Proach. (20th Century Fox)

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Nicholas Baehr’s script of two hooligans terrorizing passengers in a subway car had previously been filmed as a 1963 teleplay, under the title Ride with Terror, presented as part of The DuPont Show of the Week. This big-screen adaptation adds a homosexual character and a Black couple, if to show how much more liberal things got in four years. (Director Larry Peerce had previously made One Potato, Two Potato.) But, Hollywood still had a lot of growing up to do.

By 1967, it was rare to see a black-and-white feature released by a major studio, but this decision lends the movie a grittier authenticity. As such, it resembles the independently-produced New York-lensed features of the time, more so once you consider that the derelict is played by Henry Proach, who appeared in Jonas Mekas’s The Brig, and Shirley Clarke’s The Connection.

Ironically, the derelict is probably the happiest character in this drama, as he sleeps through the entire ordeal, even while receiving a hotfoot by the two punks. Making their feature film debuts, Martin Sheen and Tony Musante (the only actor who also appeared in the original TV version) are a truly loathsome duo, as seen in the opening when they “roll” someone for some kicks. This moment is the last time we see these hoods for a long while, as we are introduced to all of the characters who board the subway car at various stops over the Sunday night line.

The New York City Transit Authority had denied the filmmakers permission to shoot in the subway. However, in a guerrilla fashion that echoes the independent features of its day, cinematographer Gerald Hirschfeld sneaked a camera into the transit system by concealing it in a cardboard box, to get the location and background footage they needed. The black-and-white film, plus the use of claustrophobic closeups and oblique setups to compliment its “you are there” docu-realism.

The film is episodic in its introductions of new characters en route to board the subway, where crosscutting their vignettes would’ve increased the pace (and the urgency). We already sense the violence in the dialogue of the passengers’ dialogue before the punks board the train – even the amorous young couple, as their public affection is brought out of coercion. (Donna Mills is already playing the “woman in peril” role so common in her future TV movies.) All the couples are bickering (including sweet old Thelma Ritter and Jack Gilford); most characters are self-loathing, hateful, or wear masks. (Viewers of a certain age will chuckle at the sight of Carson sidekick and eternal pitchman Ed McMahon, being too cheap to spring for a taxi to take his wife and kid home.) At first, Brock Peters’ character, a Black activist who yearns for more than the “We shall overcome” sentiment, relishes the sight of these white people destroying each other, until he is stripped of his bravado by the hoods. Their menace forces each character to acknowledge ugly truths about themselves. And yet, while the film appears to be forward-thinking, its depiction of a homosexual, left traumatized by his self-loathing is offensively stereotypical.

The screenplay is calculated, but one concedes it has to lie a bit to tell the truth. Sadly, and perhaps necessarily, there are no moments of false heroism. The final moment of retribution is telegraphed and anticlimactic; perhaps the greater, truer moment is seeing the old derelict left behind on the subway floor while the other characters exit the car. (Perhaps another reason for its denial to be filmed on location was due to its unflattering portrait of New Yorkers.)