The ending to James William Guercio's Arizona highwayman cop film Electra Glide in Blue has cinematographer Conrad Hall's camera performing an awe-inspiring pull-back from the final image, thus dwarfing our film's hero, Robert Blake, by having the valley's buttes swallow him up with their majesty. When paired with the epic ode to a lost America, called "Tell Me," the shot--in spite of its beauty--becomes an unforgettable picture of sadness. This uncommon character study/murder mystery justifiably became a cult sensation after its disappointing release in 1973. And I believe both the song and the score--each written by Guercio--have a lot to do with its appeal. (The very cult-flavored supporting cast--including Mitchell Ryan, Billy Green Bush, Royal Dano, Elisha Cook Jr., and Jeannine Riley--deserves some credit, too.)
Guercio wrote, produced and directed his one and only film after becoming a distinctive, Grammy-winning producer and songwriter for jazz/pop outfits like Blood, Sweat and Tears and Chicago. He did go on to produce one of Hal Ashby's last movies, 1981's little-seen Second Hand Hearts, again with Robert Blake and co-starring Dyan Cannon. But his time seemed taken up with running his Caribou studios in Colorado's Rocky Mountains (at least until it burned down in 1985). And though he was later an owner of the Country Music Channel, Guercio pretty much escaped the music industry to delve into the cattle and oil-drilling business. I get the impression that, despite his director's commentary for the MGM-released DVD, Guercio doesn't very much want to revisit his dalliances with the movies and music, because it's very difficult to hear his work anywhere but on YouTube these days (and posts featuring "Tell Me" are constantly being taken down by, I assume, requests from the songwriter, and then put back up again by fans who love the song). Nevertheless, a re-release of the score to Electra Glide in Blue is definitely in order; there's clearly a market for it.
The song is called "Tell Me." The music and lyrics are by James William Guercio, and they are powerfully performed by Terry Kath, the late lead singer for Chicago who, with Peter Cetera, makes key cameos during the film's most exciting sequences.
Tell me about the sun
Tell me about the rain
Tell me about the fields
Tell me about the plains
Will they come again
I don't know
Will they ever come again
I don't know
God above, is there not anything that we might do
To try and make this world of ours a better place for me and you?
Tell me all about man
Tell me so I can understand
Tell me somebody all about wars
Please try and tell me just how much more
Oh pray it's not too late
Oh no
Please everybody, everybody, everybody pray it's not too late
It's not too late
Oh come on, mmmmm
Yeah come on
Lay down a little prayer for us
Come on, say a prayer for us, please
It's a strange feeling to write about Robert Blake movies now, after so much has happened to him in his personal life. But, all that aside, if you think about it, Blake had a long and fascinating career in movies. Under his real name Mickey Gubutosi, he was Mickey in Hal Roach's Our Gang series of short films. He went on to play Little Beaver, the Native American sidekick to Red Ryder (Bill Elliott) in a long, now-forgotten series of westerns. He had a memorable two-scene role in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre as a kid trying deperately to sell a lottery ticket to a busted Bogart.
Later, he was in Pork Chop Hill (the best Korean War movie, by Lewis Milestone), Tell Them Willie Boy Is Here (the western that was only the second movie by once-blacklisted Force of Evil director Abraham Polonsky), Richard Brooks' In Cold Blood (as Perry), David Lynch's Lost Highway (in a scary white-faced mask), and most famously, he became the unorthodox TV cop Baretta, playing alongside a cockatoo named Fred and a streetwise best friend named Huggy Bear (Antonio Fargas). He was well-known for his funny 70s motor oil TV commercials and his manic Johnny Carson appearances. Pretty good career, really. But now, after all his court troubles, this all seems quite far away.
Still, I have a fondness for the actor, mostly stemming from 1973's Electra Glide In Blue, the only film written and directed by--get this--the founding member of the supergroup Chicago! James William Guercio delivered, in his only screen outing, the single best motorcycle cop movie ever made. In it, Blake plays John Wintergreen, a diminutive, Alan Ladd-loving Arizona patrolman whose desire to be a state detective throws him feet-first into a bizarre murder investigation. His enthusiasm garners him a mentor, detective Harve Pool (the despicable Mitchell Ryan), who eventually on him and sets roadblocks up against his acceptance into the detective program.
This moody picture is endlessly influential (one of its opening scenes has been aped by Rambo and Aliens, among others). Guercio was lucky enough to coerce cinematographer Conrad Hall--Oscar winner for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, American Beauty and Road to Perdition--into throwing his talents into the ring, resulting in a luciously-colored widescreen frame throughout. (The film's long, extended final shot MUST be seen--it's one of the most indelible images in movie history.) Blake is quite likable as Wintergreen--perhaps the most likable he'd been since buddying around with Spanky and Darla. I personally love the scene where he's trying on his detective's uniform for the first time, stepping outside, cigar in mouth, before realizing he's forgotten something essential. Yeah, it's a little silly but through moments like this, or when he's arguing with a coroner (the creepy Royal Dano) for the further investigation of a desert bum's murder, we can feel his excitement, his passion, his capacity to always do the right thing. And when he's punished for it, we're heartbroken (SPOILER ALERT: the ending is some kind of retribution for the climax of Easy Rider).
The cast is rounded out by Billy "Green" Bush (excellent at Zipper, Blake's over-the-top partner), a sexy Jeannine Riley, a more-crazed-than-usual Elisha Cook Jr., key cameos from Chicago members Peter Cetera and the late Terry Kath. Oh---and THE star, Blake's glorious Harley Davidson Electra Glide motorcycle. As one might expect, Guercio's horn-laden score is excellent, with songs by The Marcels, Mark Spoelstra, Terry Kath, and Madura (who perform in live concert footage). And the closing song, by Chicago, called "Tell Me," is a sad, majestic ballad about the vanishing wilderness---it's a song I'd like to have a copy of (anybody out there got one?) Now, if we could only get Guercio to make another movie...and put Robert Blake in it.