I’m just going to come out a say something: Joel Grey is a creepy motherfucker. He’s perfectly cast in 1974’s Man on a Swing, where he plays an alleged clairvoyant who insists on helping the police investigate the murder of a young woman. He may or may not have such powers, he may or not be the killer, or he might be involved in this killing in some other regard.
Supposedly based on a true story, this is a film that maintains a curious feeling of unease and uncertainty throughout its runtime. Things never fully gel, and I don’t believe it is a spoiler to say things remain largely unsettled when the end credits roll. This may irritate some viewers, but I found this approach resulted in a more memorable and intriguing work that what would have likely resulted from a more straight-forward approach.
Cliff Robertson plays the police chief on the case. The strangled body of Dianne Hull had been found in the passenger floorboard of her Volkswagen Beetle. Her panties and shorts have been lowered, but no penetration had occurred. There also did not appear to have been a struggle. There is a high concentration of carbon monoxide in her blood, suggesting she had been in a garage while a car was running. Robertson is especially intrigued by a spot of blood on her right breast.
So far, this is a fairly straight-forward police procedural. The opening credits run over the police car on its way to the crime scene, where Hull’s bug sits sadly isolated from other cars in a grocery store parking lot. We stay with Robertson and the officers as they work their way backwards from Hull’s friend who found her body, to a clerk who remembers selling the victim a hibachi, to interviewing a woman who had been assaulted in that same parking lot a year before. It just so happens her assailant (Christopher Allport) has just been released from prison, so he is brought in for questioning.
The investigation seems to be heading for the cold case file, with the list of suspects drying up. There is also a lack of fingerprints on the vehicle, except for those of a careless officer at the crime scene (Peter Masterson). This is the point where Grey shoves his way into the investigation.
To say he chews the scenery doesn’t do his performance justice. In fact, he does everything but literally chew on it. Instead, he throws himself against it as if he’s magnetized and everything around him is iron. He smashes things while more or less dry-humping a table. He foams at the mouth at one point. It’s no wonder the guy is so thin, given the workout he puts himself through here. I got tired just watching him.
Robertson’s terse performances stands out in sharp relief. He is as intense as Grey, only his is one of internalized, smoldering intensity. One of the few times in the film he opens up to anybody is to his wife (Dorothy Tristan). I believed these characters, separately and together, and I enjoyed their banter. It is obvious she doesn’t enjoy him discussing the case at home, but things are taken to a whole other level when Grey shows up when she’s home alone in one notably creepy scene. As she lays down the law for her husband: “I will not have suspects in my home.” But then there’s lighter moments such as when Robertson asks his pregnant wife her thoughts on clairvoyants: “Is my opinion worth anything? After all, I believed in my diaphragm.”
But the main relationship here is between Robertson and Grey, as the chief finds the man’s antics and vagueness increasingly irritating. Grey agrees to participate in a test of his powers, but his rate of success is less than that of even blind chance. After freezing him out of the investigation, Robertson gets vaguely threatening mail and phone calls to the house. All the while, Grey bears an almost mockingly innocent expression which scans as smugness, making him very punchable. You just know Robertson wants to do that in some moments, but never succumbs to that urge.
The poster for Man on a Swing asks of Grey’s character, “Clairvoyant. Occultist. Murderer. Which?” While the picture barely touches upon the second of those, it teases us as to whether he is the first, and to what extent. The film concludes while still on the fence as to whether he is the third, of if he is culpable to some undetermined extent. It remains vague, which will understandably frustrate some viewers. As for myself, I found it an intriguing unsolved riddle which I enjoyed considering for some time after.
Dir: Frank Perry
Starring Cliff Robertson, Joel Grey
Watched on Olive Films blu-ray