BREWSTER MCCLOUD

Brewster McCloud (1970) was everything I hoped for when I set my 2025 goal to watch all of Robert Altman’s films.  The movie’s poster promises that it’s “different”—and it truly is.  It’s bizarre and also deeply thought-provoking and darkly humorous, with an edge that lingers long after the credits roll.

The central character of Brewster McCloud, Brewster McCloud, is a young man living illegally in a fallout shelter beneath the Houston Astrodome.  The backstory behind this unusual living arrangement is never explained, leaving it a peculiar mystery.  Brewster is obsessed with the idea of flight and is tirelessly working on an invention that will enable him to soar through the air.  Portrayed by Bud Cort (who would later play Harold in the cult classic Harold and Maude) Brewster’s singular goal consumes him.

Rene Auberjonois, best known for his role in the TV series Benson, plays the Lecturer, a professor who provides a running commentary on various bird species.  Though not directly connected to the main characters, the Lecturer’s observations act as a thematic bridge throughout the film. He often introduces a bird’s traits, which are then mirrored in a character introduced shortly thereafter. For example, the Lecturer discusses the blue-eyed pigeon, a bird known for its distinct blue eyes and independent nature, before we meet Shaft (played by Michael Murphy), a San Francisco police officer who is recruited to help the Houston P.D. solve a series of murders. Shaft has absurdly blue eyes and a fiercely independent demeanor. How does this all connect to Brewster’s desire to fly? That’s for you to discover, but here's a clue: when someone gets splattered with bird shit, their time on Earth is likely running out.

The film is replete with bizarre imagery and clever nods to other films. One standout moment involves the character Daphne, a wealthy, racist woman portrayed by Margaret Hamilton, best known as the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz. Daphne meets her demise early on, wearing red studded shoes that eerily resemble the "ruby slippers" Hamilton famously sought in The Wizard of Oz. Additionally, a few bars of Somewhere Over the Rainbow sneak into the score, a delightful and subtle homage to her iconic role.

Sally Kellerman plays Louise, a mysterious figure who seems to act as Brewster’s protector and guardian, encouraging his flight-based dreams while cautioning him against the dangers of sex.  According to Louise, engaging in sexual intercourse would rob Brewster of his instinct to fly. Whether Louise is a supernatural being, a guardian angel, or a bird-like maternal figure is left open to interpretation.  After all, with a director like Robert Altman, ambiguity is always a key ingredient.

Besides Louise, the only other person who seems to know where Brewster lives is Hope (Jennifer Salt known for TV’s Soap).  She enjoys masturbating in Brewster’s bed, whether he’s present in the shelter or not.  In one scene when she does this, Brewster is doing chin-ups in his underwear, building his strength to eventually power his mechanical wings.  She climaxes while counting his reps.  It’s very intentionally cringe to watch, but it shows Brewster’s deep commitment to his dream of flight. 

This film introduces us to Shelley Duvall.  Altman met Duvall at a party in Houston during pre-production.  He became enamored with her and convinced her to take the role of Suzanne, a flighty and free-spirited tour guide at the Astrodome.  (Shelly became a sort of muse for Altman who ultimately cast her in seven of his films.)

Eventually, it is Suzanne, not Hope, who deflowers our titular character, triggering Louise to leave.  The mysterious Louise knows that sex will cause Brewster to grow up, and in doing so he will see the folly of his innocent pursuit of flying. 

The film’s final act sees Brewster attempting to take flight in the Astrodome using his mechanical wings.  The dome, which symbolizes a cage, becomes the scene of his tragic realization.  His once-pure dreams of flying are crushed, as the adult world closes in around him, leaving him flailing and screeching in the confines of reality.

Then, in a completely surreal moment, the remaining characters (excluding Brewster) appear as circus performers, taking their final bows in a jubilant display.  It’s an absurd and strangely fitting conclusion for a film that revels in its own eccentricity. 

Brewster McCloud is a delightful and baffling dark comedy, filled with absurdities.  Oh, and did I mention the extended car chase sequence that plays homage to Bullitt?  Make no doubt, it’s all bonkers, but splendidly bonkers!