The Longest Yard (1974) [Lockdown Edition] – DVD

**½/**** Image B Sound A+ Extras B+
starring Burt Reynolds, Eddie Albert, Ed Lauter, Mike Conrad
screenplay by Tracy Keenan Wynn
directed by Robert Aldrich

by Travis Mackenzie Hoover The more genteel segments of the viewing public will instantly have their tolerance level challenged by The Longest Yard. In the prologue, disgraced ex-quarterback Paul Crewe (Burt Reynolds) receives the third degree from the woman to whom he has become a disgruntled man-whore, only to respond by grabbing her by the face, lifting her off the floor, and tossing her on her ass. On the commentary track of Paramount's new DVD, the filmmakers express surprise at the cheers this scene got during test screenings, but as there's no other in-point but matinee idol Reynolds, there's really no other way to respond to it. And as the scuffle naturally leads to a car chase where he dumps her Maserati into the drink (serves you right, young missy thing), complete with attendant insouciance to the police, there's only one conclusion to draw: Burt Reynolds is one bad mofo.

Had this preamble been slightly less bestial, I might have pushed my rating up to a full three stars, since once Crewe lands in one of Florida's less hospitable prisons under the command of Warden Hazen (Eddie Albert), The Longest Yard emerges as a fairly well-wrought exploitation of the male persecution complex. We know from Cool Hand Luke that the convicts in general population are the tired masses yearning to be free and that the guards are the Man keeping us down–it's obvious that nothing says payback like a bunch of prisoners kicking the shit out of the gatekeepers. Of course evil Hazen wants his semi-pro guards to win games. Of course he needs a team of prisoners to lose to them. And of course Crewe is just the man to lead the other bad mofos to victory over the screws. What could be more satisfying?

A little mercy, for starters. Where Cool Hand Luke pulled its punches on the subject of prison etiquette and thus stayed safely in the realm of gender archetype, The Longest Yard is not only specific but also celebratory in depicting the ugly ways men inflict violence. One uneasy sequence has Crewe rummaging through files to find the meanest prisoners, noting the multiple murders and wife-stranglings-with-panty-hose with the eye of a connoisseur. Meanwhile, the film itself tallies the leering, drooling, wall-smashing macho theatrics of the prisoners with a little more earnestness than is comfortable, taking it for granted that they're victims without qualifying on behalf of the victims of these victims. Coupled with that opening, which ropes our hero in with these dodgy types, it's hard to look at the film with All-American football innocence.

There's no denying that The Longest Yard is nicely made. Robert Aldrich was never a slouch as a director, and while this isn't one of his more flamboyant efforts, he wields the action and ratchets up the tension most admirably. And the Tracy Keenan Wynn script (from a story by producer Albert S. Ruddy) shamelessly wrings the redemption angles with the skill of a (drunken) master, drawing its characters just well enough to care but not enough for the movie to be a downer. Still, although I was never bored, I couldn't shake the feeling that somebody was going to burn in Hell for this–somebody like me, for starters, if I didn't own up to the film's less savoury elements. Its appeal is obvious for some very good reasons–and also for some very bad ones. I leave it to you to decide where to draw the line.

THE DVD
Taken from a mothballed source print, the 1.78:1, 16×9-enhanced presentation on Paramount's promotionally-timed DVD reissue of The Longest Yard is occasionally splotchy and a tad soft in fine detail; colours look faded despite the telecine operators' obvious attempts to pump as much blood as possible into them. The Dolby 2.0 sound, however, represents perhaps the finest mono mix I've ever heard–it's clean and sharp and potent, boasting surprising dimensions and layering to individual sound effects. Extras for this (ahem) "Lockdown Edition" are as follows:

Commentary with Burt Reynolds and Albert S. Ruddy
There's no denying that the departed Aldrich would have probably raised the level of this track, a "do you remember when?" trip in which Reynolds and Ruddy recall bits involving the supporting cast and fall all over each other with the wonderfulness of the film. Admittedly, their enthusiasm is infectious, and they are unstinting in their praise of supporting players (as well as generous with anecdotes about a certain member of the Hell's Angels), but the thematic/aesthetic elements are sadly absent. Paralogia rears its head when the two first seem flabbergasted by audience enthusiasm for the opening bitch-slapping, then lament that the scene would never survive under the devil of political correctness.

"Doing Time on The Longest Yard" (11 mins.)
Ruddy kicks off this featurette with his account of the film's genesis–namely, a star football player who lost his career due to injuries and was subsequently thrown over by his ultra-wealthy wife. The use of not-quite-superstar (and former footballer) Burt Reynolds is discussed, while various sports journalists approvingly note Aldrich's determination to be athletically accurate and the perfection of Eddie Albert. The piece rambles, but there are juicy tidbits here and there.

Unleashing the Mean Machine (11 mins.)
A featurette largely devoted to the mechanics of shooting the climactic football match. The set-piece was apparently a wild scrum of pros and semi-pros, with the imposing Jack Nitschke winning the prize for Most Threatening: he apparently warned his teammates not to hurt Reynolds, because "that's my job." Sports journalists and football players (including Canada's own Doug Flutie) chime in on the film's verisimilitude before expansively dubbing The Longest Yard the best sports movie ever made. This last part seems like inflationary bull, but the participants are so jazzed that you feel their excitement in spite of yourself.

Exclusive Look: The Longest Yard 2005 (3 mins.)
Chris Rock presides over this puff piece, wherein everybody is thrilled to be a part of what will be "one of the funniest movies of the year."

Promotional blather at its most negligible.Rounding out the package: the film's trailer; trailers for Adam Sandler's remake of The Longest Yard, Coach Carter, MacGyver: Season One, and Tommy Boy: The Holy Schneikes Edition; and $5.00 off admission to the remake (valid only in the United States).

121 minutes; R; 1.78:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 2.0 (Mono), French DD 2.0 (Mono); CC; English subtitles; DVD-9; Region One; Paramount