FIVE EASY PIECES (1970)

In one of the key scenes of Bob Rafelson’s Five Easy Pieces, classical pianist turned oilfield roustabout Robert “Bobby” Dupea (Jack Nicholson) makes a half-willing return to his family home after a long absence. He plays a piece of Chopin for his brother’s fiancée, Catherine (Susan Anspach). She, a musician like many in the family, praises his performance—but he disparages it, saying he could play the piece better when he was a child.

“Can’t you understand it was the feeling I was affected by?” she asks. “I didn’t have any,” replies Robert.

A superficial take on Five Easy Pieces might see that line as summarising the entire film: Robert has no feelings, which is why he treats his girlfriend, Rayette (Karen Black), so badly. It’s also why he’s given up the piano, abandoned his family, and apparently stopped caring about anything. He seems to drift through life seeking only sensation and fun.

But that’s just the surface. Robert is, in fact, entirely driven by feeling; he’s always searching for something to satisfy him but never finds it. He claims to be happy-go-lucky, criticising Catherine for wanting everything to be “grim and serious”, but his life is actually a series of short-term jobs and relationships that he flees the moment things get difficult. He’s traded his middle-class, highly cultured origins for a hand-to-mouth, blue-collar existence in a town typified by the pawn shop and porn cinema he walks past, only to find he’s not at home there either.

Like many movies of the New Hollywood era that it helped kick-start, Five Easy Pieces is a conspicuous departure from what film historian David Thomson (featured in the best of the supplements on Criterion’s Blu-ray) describes as the “serene fantasy” of earlier American cinema. Instead of reinforcing the idea that good people can live happily ever after in a world of personal and social stability, it heeds “the nagging call of getaway and escape, of not doing the obvious or the sensible thing”. It’s easy to forget nowadays how radical this kind of film was at the time; Five Easy Pieces would have felt distinctly un-Hollywood, and very European, to viewers in the 1970s.

Film critic Pauline Kael called Robert “the familiar American man who feels he has to keep running because the only good is momentum”. He’s the embodiment of disaffection and alienation, clearly representing many Americans at the turn of the decade—and perhaps even the country itself. He’s discontented with society and the demands of conformism, yet finds the more flamboyant rebellion of the counterculture equally unsatisfying.

For the writer, Carole Eastman, there was “no real beginning and no end of the story”. Instead, we see episodes from a life that’s been rootless for a while before the movie starts, and is likely to continue that way long after the credits roll.

Five Easy Pieces opens on an oilfield near Bakersfield, California, where we see Robert doing tough, physical work with his pal Elton (Billy Green Bush). They go bowling, cheat on their partners, and Elton is eventually arrested for skipping bail—but not before revealing to Robert that Rayette is pregnant. Robert is clearly uninterested in fatherhood and intends to leave her, though he won’t come out and say it.

Instead, in a scene that must have surprised audiences upon the film’s release, we suddenly encounter a much more smartly dressed, polite Robert driving to Los Angeles. He visits a recording studio, where he’s greeted affectionately by a classical pianist who turns out to be his sister, Tita (Lois Smith).

The pretentiousness of the Dupea family that Robert tries to escape is slyly encapsulated in their names: his second forename is Eroica, after a Beethoven symphony; Tita’s name is short for Partita; his brother Carl’s middle name is Fidelio, after the Beethoven opera. Yet there’s an obvious connection and a genuine emotional intimacy between Robert and Tita that’s entirely missing from his relationships with Rayette and Elton. When Tita mentions that their father has been ill and urges Robert to visit him, he sets off to do exactly that, reluctantly collecting Rayette on the way. Family, it seems, isn’t so easily discarded after all.

The remainder of the film explores Robert’s relationships with the family members ensconced at his father’s large house in the woods: Tita, his father, his brother Carl, and Carl’s fiancée, Catherine. Rayette meets them too, presenting Eastman and Rafelson with excellent opportunities to demonstrate the gulf between classes. Though the Dupeas don’t mean to be cruel, they can’t help being condescending towards this big-haired waitress. While their lives are filled with reverence for the great composers of the past, she simply wishes she could sing like Tammy Wynette.

Five Easy Pieces ends inconclusively. The only certainty is that when Robert insists to a truck driver giving him a lift, “I’m fine… I’m fine… I’m fine…”, it’s more of a self-delusion than a resolution. He seems no less unsure of his place in life, and no more able to find happiness, than he did at the beginning. Indeed, his inability to figure out what he really wants is highlighted throughout the film by a series of dualities—the desert versus the woods, country music versus Beethoven, the intellectual philosophising of a dinner guest versus the crackpot theories of a hitchhiker—as well as by some of its best-known scenes.

In one iconic moment, while driving with Elton, they’re stuck behind a truck carrying a piano. Robert jumps out of the car, leaps onto the truck, and starts to play. The instrument is terribly out of tune, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care; nor does he notice that the truck is turning off the road, carrying him away from his car and Elton.

Is he lost in the music? Or is he just doing something daft and fun—like his habit of barking back at dogs—without caring if he gets separated from his friend? Or is it both? With this character, it’s never easy to be sure. Car journeys and traffic jams occur frequently throughout Five Easy Pieces, serving as self-evident symbolism for never-ending motion interspersed with frustration. “Why don’t we all line up like a goddam bunch of ants!” yells Robert during one hold-up. It’s telling that the film actually ends with him at the front of a traffic jam, inside the very vehicle that created it.

Then, in the most famous episode of the film, Robert finds himself thwarted while trying to order what he wants in a diner. His desire is simple—an omelette with tomatoes and wheat toast—but that exact combination isn’t on the menu, and the waitress rigidly refuses to allow substitutions. Robert tries to game the system by ordering side dishes to assemble his meal, but she won’t have it, and he explodes in anger.

Again, the superficial meaning is clear: an arbitrary rule keeps Robert from happiness. What’s equally interesting, however, is that he seems to take as much pleasure in trying to outwit the waitress as he would from the breakfast itself. Here, Robert’s character offers flashes of the cheeky, cunning rogue Nicholson would play in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) five years later. Yet Robert is unhappier and more self-doubting; while he may derive some satisfaction from challenging social expectations, he ultimately goes without lunch. Rafelson often expresses regret that this scene became so famous, arguing that it is extraneous to the film’s main thrust, but the diner argument functions perfectly as Five Easy Pieces in miniature.

This complexity means that Nicholson is effectively playing two or even three roles at once: the oilfield worker, the dutiful pianist son, and the “real” man who lies somewhere in between. It’s never entirely clear to the audience—and perhaps not to Robert either—which persona is the most genuine. He plays the part terrifically, persuading us to root for him despite his many unattractive traits. He’s arrogant towards Elton, calling him a “cracker asshole”, and cruel to Rayette—first in the casually contemptuous way Clint Eastwood treats Jessica Walter in Play Misty for Me (1971), and eventually through a far more shocking act of abandonment.

He is, arguably, more pretentious than his family too. Though Five Easy Pieces doesn’t overtly pass judgement on its characters, his blue-collar lifestyle can be viewed as a kind of performative slumming, whereas their refined manners and aesthetic interests are entirely genuine. Pauline Kael was dubious about what she called the “fancy, novelettish alienation” of the film, but she may have been taking it too literally; the self-indulgence belongs to Robert, not to the film itself.

Unsurprisingly, the movie was a major factor in making Nicholson a bona fide star, granting him a leading role after the success of Easy Rider (1969). Watching it today is a reminder of just how powerful and magnetic he was as a young actor, his pent-up rage almost palpable. Anthony Lane describes his character as “a force of nature”. Yet despite his commanding presence, the supporting cast is never pushed into the shadow. Foremost among them is Black as Rayette, easily the most sympathetic character in the ensemble: straightforward, unpretentious, frank in her need for love, but far stronger than others realise.

In a consistently memorable cast, Ralph Waite shines as Robert’s brother, Carl. He’s the polar opposite of his sibling, yet equally intriguing with his fussy, over-bright manner, and Waite’s performance provides excellent comic relief. Is he genuinely confident, or incredibly insecure and trying to hide it? The way his neck brace—about which he makes such a tremendous fuss—suddenly disappears when the attractive Rayette arrives suggests that he, too, is constantly playing a role.

We get the same impression from Carl’s betrothed, Catherine (Anspach), who initially claims she doesn’t find Robert’s coarse manners sufficiently “charming” but gradually reveals a less uptight side. Lois Smith, meanwhile, is convincing and well-rounded as the more straightforward Tita, while William Challee is extraordinarily impactful as the family patriarch. A stroke has left him unable to speak, leaving him with no dialogue at all, yet his expressionless face is full of profound meaning. The sight of him alone with a confessional Robert towards the end remains one of the film’s most striking images.

In smaller roles, Richard Stahl stands out as a weary sound engineer working with Tita, while Helena Kallianiotes is hilarious as an eccentric hitchhiker picked up by Robert and Rayette, who is utterly obsessed with the “filth” and “crap” of consumerist society. Perhaps few people in Five Easy Pieces except Rayette are genuinely happy with the world. But while Robert deals with his discontent by restlessly searching for distraction, and his family handles it by shutting themselves away to play music on an island (Robert calls their house a “rest home, asylum”), this woman is just plain angry.

With its focus on character rather than plot, Five Easy Pieces is very much an actor’s and writer’s film. However, Rafelson’s direction and László Kovács’s cinematography also add a great deal. Their use of deep focus depicts Robert as a small, helpless man adrift, while shooting interiors on location with frequent camera movement gives the scenes a vivid, slice-of-life ambience. Exterior locations are equally vital; the contrast between the arid, baking-hot oilfields of inland California and the chillier, damper wilderness of Washington State (actually filmed in neighbouring British Columbia) is as sharp as the divide between Robert’s current life and his family background.

It’s not a warm movie, partly because there’s so little joy, and partly because many of the characters are frankly irritating. Indeed, the grating laughs of both Elton in the oilfield and Carl at the Dupea family home provide another example of the intentional pairings throughout Five Easy Pieces, hinting that wherever Robert goes, the same disappointments will find him. Yet it remains an acutely human film about the quiet, aimless tragedy of an ambivalent man in an uncertain time, brought home powerfully in its closing frames.

USA | 98 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

4K Ultra HD Blu-ray Special Features:

• 1x 4K UHD disc of the film, and 1x Blu-ray with the film and special features.
• New 4K digital restoration with uncompressed monaural soundtrack. New 4K digital restoration with uncompressed monaural soundtrack. Five Easy Pieces looks superb in 4K, boasting vibrant bright colours and rich dark tones. It’s not the sort of movie from which you would expect a jaw-dropping visual experience—Rafelson favoured flatter colours, and the framing is generally fairly tight—but in both image and sound, the disc captures the distinct quality of a late-1960s or early-1970s film seen in a cinema, which is exactly what’s required.
• Audio commentary featuring director Bob Rafelson and interior designer Toby Rafelson. Largely a Making Of commentary focused on the production process rather than the film’s broader meanings, this track benefits from two highly articulate participants (Toby Rafelson was the director’s wife when Five Easy Pieces was made). Inevitably, some passages are more engaging than others, but there’s plenty of detail on individual shots and scenes. It also offers valuable insight into two pivotal moments: Bobby playing the piano for his brother’s fiancée, and the family meal with Rayette. Unsurprisingly, given Toby Rafelson’s contribution, it’s excellent on the role played by sets and costumes. Crucially, the oft-overlooked importance of screenwriter Carole Eastman shines through repeatedly.
• Soul Searching in “Five Easy Pieces”. This 2009 video featurette, mostly featuring Bob Rafelson alongside a very brief appearance by Jack Nicholson, is particularly interesting on the film’s original, more dramatic ending; only shortly before shooting did the filmmakers decide on the final, inconclusive version. Rafelson also shares a great anecdote about the unwelcome interest shown in filmmaking by moths attracted to the studio lights. The piece is rather brief, however, and more depth would’ve been welcome.
• BBS: A Time for Change. An absolutely superb discussion of Five Easy Pieces, its production company BBS, and the US in 1970. It features the critic David Thomson (one of the finest film writers alive) and Rice University historian Douglas Brinkley—whose perspective as a non-film specialist is incredibly refreshing. Dating from 2010 and lasting about half an hour, this featurette is almost worth the price of the package alone. It’s a hugely intelligent, insightful, and cogently expressed exercise in historical context.
• BBStory. Although it’s an unfamiliar name to most people today, the production company BBS—co-founded by Bob Rafelson—was responsible for many of the groundbreaking American movies of its era. Granted a remarkably free hand by Columbia Pictures to produce whatever it liked, its output included Easy Rider and The Last Picture Show (1971), alongside Five Easy Pieces. This 2009 documentary takes a film-by-film look at the company’s work (though it oddly omits the influential 1974 Vietnam documentary Hearts and Minds), and a useful index allows you to jump directly to the title you want. Bob Rafelson, Jack Nicholson, and Karen Black are among those featured.
• Bob Rafelson at AFI. Whereas the other supplements feature Bob Rafelson speaking about Five Easy Pieces decades after the event, these audio excerpts from a 1976 American Film Institute interview stem from the same era as the film itself. The audio is a little difficult to hear clearly at times, and unfortunately, there are no subtitles available for the bonus features.
• Theatrical trailer and two teasers.
• English subtitles.
• PLUS: An essay by critic Kent Jones. We didn’t receive this for review.

Cast & Crew

director: Bob Rafelson.
writer: Carole Eastman (as Adrien Joyce) (story by Bob Rafelson & Adrien Joyce).
starring: Jack Nicholson, Karen Black, Susan Anspach, Lois Smith, Ralph Waite, Billy ‘Green’ Bush, Irene Dailey, Toni Basil & Helen Kallianiotes.