THE ANDERSON TAPES and the Drive-In Slumber Party

THE ANDERSON TAPES (1971)

Starring Sean Connery, Dyan Cannon, Martin Balsam, Christopher Walken, Ralph Meeker, Alan King, Dick Anthony Williams, Val Avery, Conrad Bain, Margaret Hamilton. Directed by Sidney Lumet. (99 min)

Essay by D.M. ANDERSON💀

1971’s The Anderson Tapes was a milestone experience in my young life. For starters, this was my very first drive-in movie, back when I was about eight years old. My parents brought my sister and I along, packing the backseat with enough snacks and blankets to make it feel like a slumber party (Mom even had us wear our jammies). Since The Anderson Tapes and its co-feature, The Love Machine, weren’t exactly Disney fare, I’m assuming they included us for date night because they couldn't find a babysitter. And since neither film starred singing cartoon critters, perhaps they figured we’d simply fall asleep soon after Dad hung that big metal speaker on the car window.

But when has that ever happened at a slumber party?

The Anderson Tapes was my introduction to Sean Connery. This was before I ever watched a James Bond movie. In fact, I was too young to even know who James Bond was. Still, this burly, imposing old man with a receding hairline left quite an impression and kinda reminded me of my uncle, who always smelled like cigarettes and Aqua Velva. It was also my first film by Sidney Lumet, who directed a batch of classics that would someday rank among my favorites (like 12 Angry Men, Fail Safe and Dog Day Afternoon). But at the time, I had no idea what directors' jobs were.

Most significantly, though, The Anderson Tapes was my first “dirty” movie. Well, dirty as perceived by an eight-year-old.

I’m pretty sure that particular date night in the summer of ‘71 didn’t quite go as my parents planned. Caught up in the novelty of watching a movie in the car, my sister and I didn't quietly drift off to sleep. We were generally pretty unruly, prompting Dad to yell shut up on numerous occasions. But in between bickering with my sister and fighting over blankets, I was sort of paying attention to the movie…

Sean Connery...pretty in pink.

Sean Connery plays “Duke” Anderson, a professional thief who's just been released from prison and plans another heist, this time of an entire Manhattan apartment building, which is filled with wealthy tenants. A lot of the story consists of Duke putting his crew together, getting financial backing from the mob and hopping between the sheets with his girlfriend, Ingrid (Dyan Cannon). But what he doesn’t realize is the police have a lot of his criminal associates under heavy surveillance, so even though they weren't necessarily spying on him, Duke keeps popping up on the cameras and wire taps.

Though the first couple of acts are a little too talky for a kid to commit 100% of his attention, certain elements definitely piqued my interest, such as Cannon stripping off her clothes and hopping in bed with Connery…where they kissed naked! I remember my sister going “oooOOOooh” at witnessing these nasty adults engaging in such a dirty act (something that respectable adults like Mom & Dad surely never did). When I asked Dad if this was one of “those rated X movies,” he impatiently replied, “Sure, Dave. Now shut up.”

I seem to remember him saying shut up quite a bit that night.

My sister and I giggled at all the swearing…lots of “shits,” “goddamns” and an assortment of other taboo words that would’ve gotten me slapped if I were to work them into casual conversation (though Mom and Dad often did). When I interrupted to ask what “faggot” meant, Mom whipped her head around and warned me never to say that word again. Dad just shook his head. In a way, I felt kinda privileged to be hearing such grown-up talk in a movie, stuff I never heard Fred MacMurray or Dean Jones spouting in Disney flicks.

Even then, I found the climactic heist sequence pretty riveting, and easily the most violent thing I’d ever seen on the big screen. Seeing one dead character’s bloodied face after crashing the getaway truck haunted me for awhile afterwards. The Anderson Tapes might have even been the first movie that I found somewhat inspiring. Not to rob an apartment building or anything, but I did spend some playtime recreating the final getaway attempt with my Hot Wheels and Legos. And when school started up again that fall, I bragged to my friends that my parents took me to see a dirty movie. 

As for the second flick, The Love Machine, maybe I finally did fall asleep because I have almost no memory of it beyond the title.

Save for key moments that violated my childhood innocence, my recollections of The Anderson Tapes faded over time. I didn’t give it much thought and never watched the thing again until 50 years later, when I happened to discover it on Blu-ray. That’s when memories of the whole drive-in debacle with Mom & Dad came flooding back (at least partially). Revisiting it was an interesting experience, to say nothing of fondly nostalgic. 

Of course, it isn’t nearly as violent or dirty as I remembered. The sex and nudity is strictly of the PG variety, meaning we never actually see much of Dyan Cannon’s physical attributes, nor do she and Connery do more than discreetly kiss under the covers. The swearing is actually pretty mild, at least compared to what frequently flies from my mouth while driving. On the other hand, the homophobic slurs are kind of off-putting these days and exacerbate the film’s dated, uncomfortably stereotypical depiction of gay people, as personified by Martin Balsam’s character, Tommy Haskins, a member of Duke’s crew. 

"I need something that goes beep."

When I first saw the film, my favorite character was “The Kid” because he had long hair just like The Beatles and Chekov from Star Trek, a look I was beginning to think was pretty cool. The Kid is played by a fresh-faced Christopher Walken and this was one of his first movies. Elsewhere, there’s the legendary Margaret Hamilton in her last film appearance, but I didn’t recognize her because she didn’t wear the green make-up and prosthetic nose that scared the shit out of me whenever The Wizard of Oz aired on TV. 

Much of the emphasis of the narrative is on the surveillance methods used by police, which was apparently cutting-edge at the time (and enhanced by composer Quincy Jones’ grating electronic flourishes). I missed out on when this stuff was jawdropping, though thematically, the concept of one’s every move being monitored might be the one aspect of the film that remains pretty timely. 

But I prefer not to think about that. I’d rather look at The Anderson Tapes as an enjoyable trip down memory lane, when I was getting on my parents’ last nerves in the backseat of their Pontiac Le Mans. It doesn’t rank among Lumet or Connery’s best work, but remains a pretty enjoyable film. My mom has since passed, but it might be fun watching it with Dad one more time. I don’t know if he remembers the movie or his regretful decision to host a drive-in slumber party, but I could make it up to him by shutting my mouth this time around.