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Stanley Kubrick’s “The Killing” (1956) and the Prominence of Domesticated Animals

Stanley Kubrick’s 1956 film noir The Killing is striking for its attention to domesticated animals – horses, dogs and a parrot. The film’s first shot is of horses being led from their paddock, the title is superimposed over footage of horses, and a toy poodle brings about the movie’s denouement. The title itself can be interpreted as referring to the killing of the racehorse Red Lightning since no character mentions “killing” in regards to the heist, none of them make a killing because they all end up dead or back in jail, and the only character who uses the word “kill” is the hood hired to shoot Red Lightning when he’s asking for the details of the job. All the animals are confined; the horses in stables and paddocks before being ridden and led, the dogs cuddled in their owner’s arms, and the parrot in its cage. Kubrick makes comparisons, in shots and dialogue, between the animals’ confinement and the characters being hemmed in by circumstances they can’t surmount.

The Killing Title
Domesticated animals appear in many scenes throughout the film. The movie’s first seven shots are of racehorses being led to a racetrack starting gate, a team of four horses dragging the gate into place, and the racehorses taking off. This same footage of horses is used as an anchor as Kubrick repeatedly returns to the seventh race to show the various characters acting out their separate roles on the day of the heist. A caged parrot is shown in most of the scenes between the mousy George Peatty and his wife, Sherry, a wisecracking siren in a curly pompadour. Like Polly, George is shown more than once behind bars, and in the scene where Sherry pulls the wool over her husband’s eyes, a cloth is draped over the parrot’s cage. The farmer who moonlights as an assassin cradles and caresses a puppy during the entire scene where he and the heist’s mastermind, Johnny, discuss killing the horse to distract the cops during the crime. Finally, a yappy little poodle precipitates the film’s unhappy conclusion. When the poodle jumps out of the arms of its smothering owner at the airport, it runs in front of a baggage cart. The driver swerves to avoid the dog and Johnny’s suitcase tumbles off the cart and bursts open, sending the loot flying away in the wind generated by the airplane engine.

In the film’s first shot horses ridden by jockeys are led out of their paddock. We see a team of harnessed white horses, with blinders blocking their peripheral vision, dragging the starting gate into place, and the racehorses being led toward it, two of them repeatedly throwing their heads back as if to shake off their restraints. Then trainers, rushing, yank and pull the horses up to the gate. Later in the film jockeys whip them to make them run faster. In no scene do we see the horses being fed, groomed, petted or congratulated, or any affection being shown. They are led, confined and manipulated, and they don’t look happy.

The Killing’s characters are similarly led, confined and manipulated. Kubrick draws a visual comparison between horses and people by cutting from the horses lined up behind the gate to the line of cashier windows at the racetrack. (He also makes a visual comparison between horses and people later in the film, when Nikki waits in the parking lot for Red Lightning to approach, by dissolving back and forth between the racing horses and the cheering crowd.) The characters are confined and limited by their relationships and by their low-paying, dead-end jobs. A loan shark who notes that “We all get a little cramped,” nevertheless raises the vig $400 and menaces Stanley, the dirty cop, with veiled threats of what he’ll do if the debt isn’t repaid soon. Fear of the loan shark motivates Stanley to participate in the stick up at the racetrack to get cash immediately. George Peatty, a track cashier, is under the thumb of his wife, Sherry, a manipulative, wisecracking gold digger. Sherry leads him to believe she will love him if only he provides more money for a fancier apartment and more comfortable lifestyle. To avoid the pain of her emotional blackmail, George takes part in the theft. Just as people make horses race for financial gain, the loan shark and Sherry try to use Stanley and George to procure money for them. In another parallel between animals and humans, just as the horses leave the confinement of their stables and paddocks, and run around and around the track, ultimately ending up back where they started in the confinement of their stables, Johnny gets out of jail, engages in a lot of useless activity, and ends up where he started, in the slammer.

The animal most closely identified with a character is Polly, the Peatty’s parrot (presumably that’s her name, since she squawks, “Pretty Polly, pretty Polly). Polly’s cage has a rounded top and is elevated on a pedestal, so the bird is even with George’s head when he is standing. In the first scene in the Peatty’s apartment, Sherry is mocking him, as usual. Sherry thinks George is a boring loser, and tells him as much. To seek refuge from her belittling, George walks over to Polly, a kindred spirit. Just as Polly is confined in a cage, we see George behind bars, twice. The first time is near the film’s beginning, when he is shown, with a grim facial expression, behind the bars of his cashier’s window. The second time he is framed in a medium close up, holding the balusters of the spiral staircase that Johnny is ascending to hold up the racetrack office. George is imprisoned by his love for Sherry; he will do almost anything for her love.

George also is blinded, metaphorically, by his attraction to Sherry. In the second scene at the Peatty’s apartment, Sherry is seated at a dressing table, George is standing next to her, and Polly is in her cage behind him, blinded literally because a drape covers her cage. Sherry is trying to fool George and obscure the truth by faking affection she doesn’t feel and lying to him so he’ll tell her more about the plot. She says she eavesdropped outside the apartment where the conspirators were planning the job because she was jealous and suspected he was seeing another girlfriend. Sherry tells him she loves him and will love him “always and always.” (Although Johnny doesn’t lead him on, Marvin also is blinded, by his sexual attraction to the younger man. Even though Johnny is engaged to his childhood sweetheart, Marvin suggests he abandon Fay and travel the world with the older man.)

In the final scene at the apartment, George, who has been shot, stumbles in to find Sherry expecting her lover. Wobbling from his injuries, he holds on to the vertical stand that holds up Polly’s cage for balance. Polly says “Watch it” and “Watch out.” When Sherry refuses to call an ambulance for him and tells him to go out and get a taxi, he realizes, too late, that she has never loved him, and he shoots her. When he succumbs to his wounds and tumbles to his death, he is still holding the bird’s cage, and he takes it down with him. The camera pans from George’s head, his expression frozen in death, partially shadowed by Polly, to the parrot, constrained in her overturned cage and unable to fly, before cutting to an airplane taxiing at the airport.

elilsha cook and parrot
The final domesticated animal given prominence in The Killing is the dog. When Johnny goes to Nikki’s farm to hire him to kill the racehorse Red Lightning, Johnny holds and pets a really cute puppy, covering its ears with his hands, while the assassin tries out the shotgun. Then, they exchange the puppy for the shotgun. The farmer/assassin continues to hold and cuddle his puppy throughout the scene, caressing and rubbing its muzzle, back and ears as the men discuss shooting the horse; a perverse contrast between the affectionate gestures and the murderous words. Johnny makes light of the killing, saying that shooting “a four-legged horse” isn’t even murder.

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A yipping toy poodle with a bow in its topknot renders poetic justice on the heartless (to horses) Johnny, as it foils the (literally) last man standing at the movie’s end. In his exhaustively researched, and highly readable book, Stanley Kubrick: A Biography, author Vincent LoBrutto reports that before Kubrick became a director, and was a photographer for Look magazine, he shot a photo essay of a champion toy poodle named Masterpiece. Poodles were extremely popular in the 1950s, and Kubrick was obviously familiar with the dogs, and their owners’ practice of giving them undignified, clownish trims, and having them prance around, perform tricks and otherwise behave artificially for human amusement and, in the case of show dogs as with race horses, purses.

The cloying, middle-aged owner of Sebastian, the poodle in The Killing, cradles him near her cheek and smothers him with affection, cooing baby-talk in a phony, Elmer Fudd voice. At the airport to meet her husband, she addresses the unfortunate dog, “We haven’t seen daddy sweetums foe such a wong, wong, time.” She takes Sebastian outside as the plane is arriving, and the dog, agitated by the engine noise, escapes from her arms. As a worker driving a baggage cart turns sharply to avoid the dog, Johnny’s cheap, flimsy, pawn-shop suitcase topples off the top of the heap and bursts, the loot scattering into the wind generated by the airplane’s engine.

Kubrick and the novelist Jim Thompson adapted the screenplay from the novel Clean Break by Lionel White, published in 1955. The novel’s title does not refer to a horse’s broken leg; it is an expression used by Marvin, who despises the other conspirators and wants to make a clean break from them after the heist, and it’s also used by an initial newspaper report that the crooks got away with the loot. Both Kubrick and Thompson were interested in animals. For example, in Thompson’s novel The Getaway, one character is a veterinarian who calls his wife “Pet” and “Lambie,” and philosophizes over the effects of kindness to animals. The screenwriters added the animals to The Killing; Clean Break doesn’t mention dogs or parrots, or horses leaving their paddock or approaching the starting gate. Of course The Killing is a film noir with has a femme fatale, a flawed hero, characters drawn from society’s underbelly, a grim atmosphere and a downbeat ending, but clearly on another level it is about the treatment of animals.

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Blu-ray Review: “Many Wars Ago” (1970)

Many Wars Ago Blu-ray

Francesco Rosi’s hot-blooded Many Wars Ago (Uomino contro, “Men Against,” 1970) is probably forever destined to be compared to Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory (1957). The similarities aren’t superficial — by underlining the inhumanity and sheer absurdity of World War I trench warfare through a variety of carefully attuned formal techniques, both films arrive at a passionate, persuasive condemnation of war. With Paths of Glory, it feels like Kubrick is taking a less clinically detached approach to his material than in later works, but it never reaches the levels of overt, blistering anger that Rosi’s film does.

Many Wars Ago is a film where the fury of war is viscerally felt in scene after scene of pulsing movement and blasting sound. Rosi doesn’t shy away from launching a series of kinetic assaults on the senses, his close-up framing emphasizing chaos over any distinguishable moving parts. The approach is reminiscent of his earlier bullfighting drama The Moment of Truth (Il momento della verità, 1965), where movement becomes polemic by virtue of its visual forcefulness. In Many Wars Ago, Rosi does take time to focus in on individual characters, but many scenes deemphasize the humanity of the soldiers completely. In this world, you’re just a mass of flesh and metal. Attempts by soldiers to assert themselves as anything more than that generally result in a visit from the firing squad.

Source novel Un anno sull’altipiano (“A Year on the High Plateau,” 1938) was written by Italian soldier Emilio Lussu, based on his experiences in the Sassari Infantry Brigade in World War I. The film takes place during a series of skirmishes between the Italian army and Austro-Hungarian forces in mountainous terrain, and the Austrians seem to have the upper hand in almost every regard, their higher-ground positions and powerful machine guns cutting down any Italian plan before it has a chance of accomplishing anything.

The repeated futility is lost on Gen. Leone (Alain Cuny), a monstrously imperious leader, whose capricious leading style is more responsible for thinning out his own forces than anything the Austrians have planned. In matters of army motivation, he rules with an iron fist, demanding respect by having his own soldiers shot for the most minor of slip-ups. In matters of strategy, he’s something of a crazed lunatic, sending troops out on impossible missions to try to capture the enemy’s higher ground position. One of the film’s most strikingly absurd scenes has Leone outfit a group of soldiers in medieval-style armor and order them to re-attempt a failed gambit, as if this anachronistic tactic would render the hailing machine gun fire ineffective.

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In Rosi’s horrific vision of war, there is very little agency apart from Leone’s and the bureaucratic forces that underpin him. In one of Rosi’s shots of a teeming, anonymous mass of ground troops, Leone strides among the bodies, the only face in clear view. The film’s two de facto protagonists never stand a chance of overcoming this institutional behemoth; Lt. Sassu (Mark Frechette, in one of only two other roles after Zabriskie Point [1970]) seems to understand this, his world-weary, resigned demeanor contrasting sharply with his youthful features. Sassu is the stand-in for author Lussu, an upper-class young man whose support for the war drained away once he saw the horrors on the front line.

For Lt. Ottolenghi (Gian Maria Volonté), the possibility of mutiny keeps some hope alive, but his craftiness is ultimately useless. He tricks Leone into looking out through a pinhole viewing point that Austrian snipers have consistently fired on, but luck is not on his side. Leone walks away unscathed, while moments later, a bullet rips through a branch Ottolenghi places in the same spot. Moral order or even just a little ironic justice is absent here.

Many Wars Ago is a wearying, frustrating experience in both content and form. One is tempted to become numb to the repeated decimations of the Italian army, but Rosi’s nightmarishly constructed scenes of sound and fury on the battlefield prevent inurement. As a villain, Gen. Leone is hardly the subtlest of characters, but Leone is also not the object of Rosi’s venom; he’s merely the personification of a dehumanizing institution. This is one of the great, challenging, stomach-turning war films.

Raro Video gives Many Wars Ago its Region 1/A debut with its Blu-ray release (also available separately on DVD), and while there’s plenty to admire about the transfer, it’s been frustratingly framed in the non-theatrical 1.33:1 aspect ratio. It appears this is an open matte transfer, and the disc was approved by Rosi himself. Are we to assume the director prefers this framing? As far as I can tell, Raro’s old Region 2 DVD release of the film was presented in 1.66:1. As the film progressed, I wasn’t overly distracted by the framing, but some might find this a dealbreaker.

The 1080p high definition transfer was sourced from a reversal print belonging to the Italian National Film Archive, as the original negative has been lost. Taking this into consideration, it’s a pretty good-looking digital transfer, with a very clean image and reasonably high amounts of fine detail. Color consistency is another matter — fluctuation between tones is pretty common, sometimes so much so that the muddy browns and greens of one shot look almost like grayscale in the next. Flesh tones tend to look rather unnatural, and most of the time, the image has a faded appearance. Fortunately damage is mostly nonexistent and there doesn’t appear to be any of the excessive digital filtering that has affected some Raro Blu-rays.

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The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono soundtrack does a nice job handling the wide range of volume. The piercing battle sound effects that Rosi pumps up can sound a little harsh, but that’s to be expected and kind of the point. English subtitles are optional.

Raro’s disc includes the following special features:

  • Interview with director Francesco Rosi (28 minutes) Rosi, now 91, is exceptionally sharp and engaging, recalling all sorts of specific details about the production of the film. He talks about wanting to make a film with a message after the fairy tale of More Than a Miracle (C’era una volta, “Once Upon a Time,” 1967), and discusses the contrasting reactions Many Wars Ago provoked, along with bits of production trivia.
  • Before and after restoration demonstration (2 minutes) Side-by-side comparison of select shots.
  • PDF of the original screenplay, only accessible on a computer with a Blu-ray disc drive.
  • 20-page booklet with an essay by Lorenzo Codelli, notes from Rosi, excerpts from positive and negative critical reviews and biographical information.


On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor, Raro Video’s Many Wars Ago Blu-ray rates:

The Film (out of ****): ***1/2

Film Elements Sourced: **1/2

Video Transfer: **

Audio: ***

New Extra Features: **

Extra Features Overall: **


Raro Video

1970 / Color / 1:33:1 / 101 min / $34.95


Dusty Somers is a Seattle-based writer and editor who splits his critical ambitions between writing Blu-ray & DVD reviews and theater criticism. He’s a member of the Online Film Critics Society and Seattle Theater Writers.