Sam Fuller’s Exemplification of the Film’s Cultural Anticipation
The assertion that no film surpasses its contemporary cultural context but rather anticipates the judgment of cultural gatekeepers was keenly exemplified by Sam Fuller, especially when reflecting on the delayed release of his 1982 film White Dog, which languished nearly a decade before hitting theaters. Despite Fuller’s consistent inclination to infuse controversial topics with a punchy, exploitation-movie style—a characteristic evident throughout his prolific career—White Dog, his twenty-first feature, faced unprecedented suppression. Within the intricate landscape of the film industry, Fuller encountered an unforeseen obstacle with White Dog. The film’s audacious premise, portraying a guard dog trained to target African Americans as a symbolic representation of ingrained racism, provoked substantial criticism. Julie Sawyer (Kristy McNichol), the movie’s protagonist, inadvertently uncovers this disconcerting revelation, propelling the storyline into examining societal biases.
Fuller’s intentional provocations, directed not only at societal complacency but also at the established routines of the film industry, proved to be a double-edged sword. The incendiary nature of the film elicited considerable resistance from both the industry and the public. In contrast to Fuller’s earlier controversial works that managed to evade the scrutiny of B-movie exhibitions, the 1980s ushered in a new cinematic landscape with the disappearance of such specialized niches. White Dog was relegated to a television graveyard, a fate it endured before securing a theatrical release as a specialized art film in 1991. Paramount, the film’s distributor, discreetly shelved it following objections from the NAACP branch in Beverly Hills-Hollywood, citing the inflammatory nature of its subject matter. Collette Wood, an NAACP spokesperson, expressed their reservations, stating, “We oppose the entire thrust of the film and its commentary on racism, especially given the resurgence of the Klan, which tends to occur during economic downturns.”
This opposition proved sufficient to dissuade an already disinterested distributor, adding another layer to the intricate narrative surrounding White Dog. During that period, Paramount was spearheading a cinematic blitz with films like American Gigolo, Urban Cowboy, An Officer and a Gentleman, 48 Hrs., and Flashdance, all adhering to a widely acclaimed high-concept formula for success. Fuller’s nuanced sociological moral tale, laden with challenging subject matter, struggled to find resonance within this commercial paradigm, underscoring the clash between artistic expression and industry expectations during a pivotal epoch in cinematic history.
Cultural Awareness as a Filmmaking Foundation
As always, Fuller relied on the cultural awareness of the time, a cornerstone of his filmmaking philosophy. In White Dog, viewers were challenged to embark on a formidable journey from historical memory and social consciousness to the realm of cinematic imagination—an audacious leap reminiscent of the creative freedom Fuller once enjoyed when his films seamlessly joined a studio’s extensive release schedule. Even in earlier years, bureaucratic opposition was a familiar hurdle for Fuller; The Steel Helmet, Pickup on South Street, and China Gate encountered challenges from the FBI for perceived unpatriotic elements, while the French government took offense at his portrayal of the Indochina crisis. As the early 1980s unfolded, Fuller’s perspectives on race were at odds with the prevailing trends. The fervent, defensive stances on racism presented in the preceding decade’s blaxploitation movies had recently concluded, indicating a shift in audience interests. Despite this, Fuller remained steadfast in his commitment to addressing social issues through his distinguished pulp-didactic approach. In White Dog, he examined societal problems with the same dedication that characterized his works in the fifties and sixties. However, the film’s polemical thrust was perceived as anachronistically unique, leading to a range of misunderstandings from both Paramount and the NAACP.
Paramount and the NAACP, in their reactions to White Dog, unintentionally overlooked and misinterpreted Fuller’s deep sense of social responsibility. Contrary to being an exploiter of racism, Fuller aimed to define its least suspected characteristics, shedding light on seemingly innocuous activities like pet care and the casual transmission of attitudes to children. The film envisioned the repercussions when conscientious individuals endeavored to dismantle ingrained prejudices. In his customary fashion, Fuller directly confronted mainstream political naïveté, challenging societal norms. In this context, neither Paramount nor the NAACP engaged in overt censorship; their responses were rooted in practical considerations. The clash between Fuller’s visionary approach and the evolving landscape of societal attitudes represented a moment where his profound dedication to dissecting and challenging societal norms encountered resistance and misunderstanding from cultural gatekeepers.
Fuller’s Distinctive Approach to Social-Protest Films
It is crucial to recall how Fuller’s distinctive approach to social-protest films, notably different from the earnest style of mainstream lecturer Stanley Kramer, played a pivotal role in sparking a movement of underground pulp sensationalism. This movement thrived in the late 1960s and early 1970s, giving rise to a surge of exploitation movies. During this period, Phil Karlson, a contemporary of Fuller in the B-movie realm, experienced a late-career revival with the successful vigilante tale Walking Tall. Concurrently, Fuller’s spiritual successor, satirist Larry Cohen, garnered popularity by adeptly infusing social and economic critique into the blaxploitation genre with films like Black Caesar, Bone, and Hell Up in Harlem. These films, reminiscent of Fuller’s agitprop, realized his longstanding vision of seamlessly merging message and medium.
However, with the arrival of the 1980s, the landscape of popular taste shifted, and political sensationalism was at odds with prevailing preferences. Film culture no longer reflected the ethical fervor that had made Fuller’s Korean War drama, The Steel Helmet, timely and evocative. In this transformed cinematic environment, White Dog confronted an audience increasingly drawn to escapism. The challenge lay bridging the gap between Fuller’s eccentric sensibility and an audience now accustomed to narratives leaning more towards escapism. How could this audience grasp the deliberate contrasts within Fuller’s storytelling, such as portraying the horrors of war on a TV set alongside a young woman fighting for her life during a home invasion? The dissonance between Fuller’s thought-provoking narratives and the audience’s evolving tastes highlighted the intricacy of presenting socially charged stories in an era increasingly inclined towards cinematic escapism.
Expanding Exploration Beyond Traditional Battlegrounds
In White Dog, Fuller skillfully expanded his exploration of humanity’s inclination for cruelty beyond traditional battlegrounds and shadowy realms, delving into the everyday landscapes of the Hollywood Hills and film studios. Fearless in confronting societal tensions, Fuller cleverly utilized seemingly innocuous settings to expose the illogical manifestation of racism in daily life. It compelled audiences to confront the fears underlying racism and the subsequent paranoia affecting both those who perpetuate it and its victims. The peace derived from Julie’s bond with her canine companion and her secure employment in the film industry is abruptly shattered by the looming threat of social hatred, vividly illustrating the disruptive impact of racism.
In The Steel Helmet, Fuller had previously presented a straightforward portrayal of a mixed-race Army patrol, delving into racial attitudes within the U.S. military and foreseeing the social upheaval that would characterize America’s future. White Dog served as Fuller’s lens into post-sixties America, where he observed the repercussions of the Voting Rights Act, urban unrest, white suburban migration, and the prevalent urban paranoia of the seventies. Here, Fuller adeptly traced the roots of racism, employing a potent cultural symbol—the attack dog used by southern white bigots during 1960s civil rights protests—to reveal the casual yet intentional indoctrination of racism.
This in-depth exploration of racial anxiety mirrored Fuller’s earlier efforts, notably Shock Corridor in 1963, where he extensively examined the tensions of the civil rights era. Featuring a diverse cast, the film stars African-American actor Hari Rhodes as a college student grappling with the challenges of integration and racism. Rhodes’ character delivered a poignant monologue that laid bare the internal struggle of loving a country that simultaneously caused him distress, emphasizing the urgent need for education to eliminate deeply ingrained prejudices perpetuated by society. Fuller’s storytelling prowess transcended the confines of the screen, unraveling the intricacies of racism and societal deterioration in a compelling cinematic narrative.
Unveiling the Disturbing Metaphor
The underlying metaphor of White Dog is profoundly disturbing as it posits that racism, along with its destructive psychological consequences, remains ingrained in the American social and cultural fabric. According to this unsettling concept, racism will persist unless a determined effort is made to eliminate it, making White Dog Fuller’s most daring film that challenges societal norms and urges reflection.
Unfortunately, Fuller’s stylized radicalism clashed with the cautious approach of Paramount and the refined taste of the NAACP, both unwilling to accept Fuller’s provocative assertion. Fuller suggests that racism is a deliberately instilled characteristic akin to the titular white German shepherd and requires a remedy. Undeterred by this resistance, Fuller boldly transformed a sociological analysis into a potentially popular monster movie, intending to use this medium to underscore the urgency of addressing the roots of racism.
While Julie defends her pet—”He’s not a monster. He was turned into one by a two-legged racist.” —may appear lighthearted without considering Fuller’s impassioned plea; White Dog avoids romanticizing Fuller’s commitment to social progress. The film demonstrates this commitment through its straightforward yet profound storybook morality and the careful selection of its cast. Paul Winfield, portraying Keys, the animal trainer committed to re-educating the white dog, carries forward the progressive emotionalism evident in his role as the oppressed black sharecropper in Martin Ritt’s 1972 film Sounder. Fuller’s protagonists, who are consistently high-strung, refrain from exaggerating the seriousness of the social dilemmas depicted. A poignant scene captures Keys looking sorrowfully at one of the white dog’s victims, echoing the close-up shot of Julie Sawyer’s quiet shame.
Winfield’s upright portrayal echoes Fuller’s earlier casting of James Edwards in The Steel Helmet, where Edwards played the almost mythical role of the black GI dealing with post-traumatic stress in Kramer’s 1949 production Home of the Brave. Similarly, Hari Rhodes’s courageous depiction of the neurotic civil rights student in Shock Corridor highlights Fuller’s use of African-American actors to embody a human response to pressing social dilemmas. This sensitivity enriches Fuller’s audacious, pulp-infused sociological confrontation in White Dog, solidifying the film’s position as a potent exploration of racism’s enduring hold on the American psyche.
Evocative Imagery and Symbolism
The film’s most evocative imagery is unconventional and rich with profound significance, seamlessly aligning with the race-themed visuals in both The Steel Helmet and Shock Corridor. Fuller creates a powerful visual tableau: a graceful black hand reaching out towards the frenzied, voracious snarl of a white-furred German shepherd. This gesture seeks to pacify the aggressive animal. This symbolic moment encapsulates Keys’s steadfast commitment to reeducate racism rather than eradicate it, remaining faithful to Fuller’s overarching humanitarian vision.
Winfield’s role in White Dog suggests that the film is a social reformist reinterpretation of The Miracle Worker. Going beyond its classification as a horror film, it metamorphoses into a morality play centered on rectifying instinctual blindness. Ironically, even upon its release in the 1990s, White Dog retained a sense of being ahead of its time. Emerging in the aftermath of the culturally diverse eighties, characterized by the influence of world music and hip-hop that reshaped the reception of racial content in popular entertainment and the ascent of black stars like Eddie Murphy and Whoopi Goldberg, who made significant strides into the mainstream, the film remained ahead of prevailing trends.
This period also marked the initiation of a critical examination of the term “white” by linguists, academics, and cultural critics, exposing its latent connotations of power, correctness, and ideological consensus. Fuller, unsurprisingly, was ahead of the prevalent groupthink. In Shock Corridor, a narrative featuring a misguided newspaper reporter, one character laments, “Too many intellectuals are afraid to use the pistol of common sense.” White Dog challenges this timidity, boldly pushing the liberal Hollywood tradition forward. In keeping with Fuller’s distinctive style, it simultaneously critiques the system that assumes progress. In doing so, White Dog is a testament to Fuller’s unwavering commitment to social critique and his rejection of conformity to conventional expectations.
Bibliography
- Gordon, M. (2017). Introduction. Film is Like a Battleground: Sam Fuller’s War Movies. New York, Oxford Academic.
- Rahnama, K. (2020). Revisiting White Dog, Samuel Fuller’s powerful anti-racism allegory. Little White Lies.
- White, A. (2008). White Dog: Fuller Vs. Racism. Current | The Criterion Collection.
