THE STORY – From a controversial flashpoint to a celebrated classic, “Cruising” has played many roles in gay culture. But the true story behind the film is the most surprising of them all.
THE CAST – N/A
THE TEAM – Jeffrey Schwarz (Director)
THE RUNNING TIME – 84 Minutes
William Friedkin’s filmography, when taken as a whole, is rocky, to say the least. After an ascendant 1970s, his work in the 80s and 90s mostly floundered, both critically and commercially. Thankfully, his career concluded respectably with a pair of adaptations of Tracy Letts’ plays (“Bug” and “Killer Joe”) and a handily constructed final film (“The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial”), which premiered shortly after he died in 2023. No matter the ups and downs of his artistic output, the man who made “The French Connection” and “The Exorcist” is never going to receive anything less than a legacy of praise. But the film that precipitated his fall from Hollywood hitmaker might just be the most fascinating one he ever made: the infamous 1980 Al Pacino vehicle “Cruising.”
Set amongst the underground leather bars of New York City at its unquestionably grittiest, “Cruising” is a crime thriller that follows a cop (played by Pacino) who goes undercover in the demimonde world of gay kink nightlife. He’s on the hunt for the killer responsible for the serial murders of gay men, suspected of luring his victims to a second (and for them, final) location after meeting them at leather bars. Pacino’s character, as the figures in these types of movies often do, finds himself getting in too deep as he delves further and further into this nocturnal realm.
Jeffrey Schwarz’s engrossing documentary “Mineshaft: The Cruising Murder” serves many purposes. It’s a behind-the-scenes examination of the making of “Cruising,” especially its controversial filming in New York, along with an assessment of its impact and effectiveness nearly half a century after its release. And, as the title hints at, it also explores the real-life murders that inspired the film. To cover this wide array of topics, Schwarz recruits a full roster of figures who were involved in the production of “Cruising,” including those who worked on the movie and the gay activists who worked to make its filming as difficult as possible.
The latter group is almost entirely made up of passionate, articulate experts and witnesses who fought against harmful media representation of the LGBTQ+ community. Despite decades of removal, they’ve clearly not lost the fire that fueled their fight. After all, these are the people who were there through both the liberating 70s and the tragic 80s, and lived to tell the tale. In other words, they’ve all lived more lives and encountered more strife, heartbreak, and triumph than most humans ever will. These collective experiences vary in detail but are unified in turbulence. Thus, they make for excellent interviews, especially when paired with the abundant, invaluable archival footage of New York City in the 70s.
Almost all of these activists express disdain for “Cruising” and Friedkin’s approach to capturing the queer community. It’s easy to see why the film would be controversial amongst the group that it ostensibly depicts: it’s an extremely violent film (notably going into production mere months after the assassination of Harvey Milk), and in a time where public opinion of LBTBQ+ people – and especially gay men – generally saw them as degenerate and contemptible, a major motion picture from a top director led by one of Hollywood’s biggest stars had the potential to do even further damage to the community’s image. Schwarz’s documentary gives helpful context for this mindset, showing the scant and offensive portrayals of homosexuality in mainstream films that were released before “Cruising.” Generally, gay men were used as either a mean-spirited punchline or as an example of a life poorly lived. No matter how the film actually turned out, it’s understandable that those who were most at risk of experiencing real-life detrimental effects because of “Cruising” were apprehensive about its production. Schwarz highlights how these activists disrupted on-location filming in New York, causing real setbacks for the cast and crew. Amazingly, Schwarz also interviews those who were the target of the community’s scorn, including gay men who were recruited as extras for the bar scenes and even the film’s technical advisor, real-life cop and heterosexual Randy Jurgensen. They provide insight for the “other side,” testifying on behalf of the late Friedkin and reiterating his stated noble (and perhaps naive) intentions. According to them, and most reports, Friedkin didn’t intend for his film to represent an entire minority group; he merely saw the leather scene as an interesting backdrop for a thriller.
But the plot of “Cruising” wasn’t imagined out of nowhere. As the title suggests, a pair of real-life, high-profile murder cases inspired Friedkin to write his film. The bluntly named “Bag Murders” occurred from 1975 to 1977, during which amputated body parts of six different men were found in the Hudson River. Because of the remnants of clothing found with them, the victims were traced back to the leather scene in the Village. These murders remain technically unsolved to this day, and the victims have never been identified. The other case that caught Friedkin’s attention was the 1977 killing of Addison Verrill, who frequented the city’s leather scene before being killed by Paul Bateson after being taken home by him. Bateson happened to have been featured in “The Exorcist,” as a real-life hospital tech that Friedkin used in a scene of Linda Blair’s character, Regan, being tested for medical ailments (before it’s put together that her problems are more of the demonic sort, of course). After the shocking realization that he had briefly interacted with Bateson, Friedkin was compelled to make “Cruising.” As the documentary shows, Friedkin found this murder “mystifying and exciting and bizarre.”
One of the first interviews Schwarz shows us is with Bob Geary, the late Addison Verrill’s partner. Although it was long ago, Geary is still clearly affected by the murder. Schwarz returns to him frequently, as if to make sure the audience doesn’t forget the non-fictional figures who were impacted and devastated by the events from which Friedkin pulled ideas. Schwarz also features testimony from Verrill’s still-grieving sister. It’s curious, however, that the film’s title centers on the murders. Although the film opens with an exploration of Addison’s life and untimely death, it spends more time discussing “Cruising,” both as art and as a real-life flashpoint. It’s almost as if the title was crafted to fit in with the boom in true crime documentaries, which remain extremely popular today.
But regardless, Schwarz’s documentary is a fascinating journey through an important cultural moment from the not-so-faraway past. At less than 90 minutes, it moves quickly, capturing an urgent energy not unlike the feeling the protestors in “Cruising” must have felt as they tried to defend their community. But just because the documentary gives these folks space to air their grievances doesn’t mean that Schwarz wants us to completely bury “Cruising.” He makes sure to end on an assessment of the film’s place in the current media landscape, where queer representation is much more abundant and diverse in both perspective and tone. “Cruising” is an odd relic worthy of reassessment and revisiting (my first and only time watching it was at Chicago’s Leather Archives and Museum, surrounded by men wearing loudly crinkling leather, almost as if it was a 4DX screening), if for no other reason than to show us how far we’ve come, no matter what political setbacks we’ve faced. And as a piece of art that showcases the slim, liberated period between Stonewall and the AIDS crisis, it’s essential viewing. “Mineshaft: The Cruising Murder” makes for a fantastic companion piece to Friedkin’s misunderstood curiosity of a film.
