Love it or hate it, you have to admire-no, not admire- marvel at the force of character in a man who is prepared to have his own son pretend to lose his virginity to a prostitute for a film. Not if you're the BBFC and stringently obscured most of that, from the film (as you should-no one needs to see that) but that's quite a conviction to have about your art.
And that's just the opening credits...
Over the years, we've probably forgotten how much way-paving Sweetback's did in 1971. Completely independently-financed by a black short-film maker and playwright was certainly fighting against a massive tide. That it made any money back is remarkable, that it became one of the most profitable films ever made is a miracle.
It gave birth to Blaxploitation and enforced that not only did Black filmmakers have something to say but that they could have their own sense of intrinsic arty-ness AND that people wanted to see it.
Watching it now, it has aged terribly and the obtuse theatricality of the characters and story seem overwrought but there's definitely something about it. It's like watching a work-in-progress- the outlines are there but it's not well defined or ready or finished yet.
Like, it's about a guy on the run being wrongly hounded by the police and he's charismatic and physical and there's a great score by Earth, Wind and Fire but then he's a sex-worker, he doesn't say anything and 85% of the film is him running somewhere with no actual inclination of where he's going or what he'll do when he gets there...
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