The creation of trade unions is either the best decisions or biggest travesty to ever happen to the free market, depending on who you ask – the workers who find themselves protected by these unions designed to uphold their rights and prevent exploitation find value in the process, whereas they can be a thorn in the side of the industries who suddenly can no longer take advantage of the workforce as liberally as they could in the past. The conflict between unions and corporations has been a long and storied tradition, and many consider it the lifeblood of the industry, with the tensions between the working class and those who govern their lives being a fundamental component of any business. In his ambitious directorial debut, Paul Schrader aims these exact concepts, forming them into Blue Collar, a stark and harrowing social issues drama in which we follow the employees at a vehicle manufacturing plant in Michigan – three of them in particular – as they battle against management and the system that they represent, fighting to earn what they believe is their right, but which those in power view as far more flexible. Coming off a string of critically acclaimed collaborations with some defining directors of their generation, writing films such as Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver and Brian de Palma’s Obsession, Schrader leaped helming a production of his own, and while it isn’t the film that would position him as a massively acclaimed filmmaker in his own right, its nonetheless a fascinating debut in which he shows his directorial prowess, piecing together a complex, invigorating character study that examines certain challenging subjects by filtering them through a dense, challenging lens in which their fundamental flaws are noted and subsequently exploited in an effort to shed light on what he views as an urgent crisis that remains a contentious topic even by contemporary standards.

Schrader has always been a fascinating artist, since he chooses subjects that are both specific and quite broad, finding the perfect balance between them – he either chooses niche topics and finds a way to examine them from a more universal perspective, or takes something quite broad and focuses on one particular aspect, highlighting this as a fundamental issue that needs to be addressed. In the case of Blue Collar, he is examining trade unions and the automotive industry, which are two quite common subjects that still bear a lot of resonance, and uses them as the foundation for a forthright and challenging exploration of the plight of the working class. Ostensibly inspired by the exceptional works being produced in Europe, with films such as The Working Class Goes to Heaven and the rise of kitchen-sink realism in the United Kingdom being heavily influential in Schrader’s process, this film takes some very bold swings at something as large and intimidating as an entire industry. The focus is on a few key players in the conflict between the two sides of the argument, three men who are very different in temperament, ambition and skill, but yet still share the same quality of being continuous victims of a system designed to keep them complacent through removing any possibility of upward mobility or promotion, in the hopes that they can be kept on a short leash, which we’ve seen rarely (if ever) turns out well for the people in charge. Taking cues from a long canon of works that revolve around the working class, and crafting it as initially a buddy comedy that rapidly descends into chaos as the film progresses, Schrader makes some very intriguing observations, which are carefully and methodically deconstructed to form the basis for a thrilling and unsettling blend of crime drama and satire, two areas in which the director has shown a considerable amount of skill, despite this film being intentionally rough around the edges.

While his films traversed several subjects, as well as playfully subverting genre and conventions frequently, some elements bind Schrader’s stories together, which become quite clear as we progress through Blue Collar, which is far from his best film, but may be his most important in terms of how it established his authorial voice. He makes films about America (except the odd detour through films like Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters and Adam Resurrected), stories about people who occupy different positions on the socio-cultural, economic and political ladder, which they attempt to gradually ascend, often to very little avail. America is a country built by the workers, a sentiment that is not only used as a resounding call-to-arms for the working class, but a genuinely important tenet of the nation’s history, a firm and unsettling reminder of how entire communities were exploited and abused as cheap labour, and the moment they sought out better treatment, they evolved into the enemy of those who viewed capitalism as a means to just pad the pockets of the already wealthy people who govern the industry, and the country as a whole. Schrader has always been quite cynical, and Blue Collar is one of his most scathing indictments, a harrowing drama with slight traces of dark humour that exist primarily to unsettle and show the absurdity of these situations, which prove to be far more challenging than anyone could have imagined. Putting these ideas into practice, we find that he carves quite an engaging film in which the themes are laid out openly and without any embellishment, and we are forced to make our own judgement based on the ensuing events – and in many ways, placing the viewer in a situation where our interpretation is required becomes a much more daunting process, since we cannot hide behind the director’s politics, as they’re deliberately kept quite ambiguous and distant, an interesting and invigorating artistic choice on Schrader’s part.

The core of Blue Collar is the three performances delivered by the leads, each one handpicked by Schrader based on both their talent and their ability to play these salt-of-the-earth men who are intent on improving their lives by any means necessary. There has been a lot of attention directed towards this film as a result of it featuring a very rare dramatic performance by Richard Pryor – and unlike other instances where a comedian is cast in something slightly more serious while still being expected to maintain a more upbeat persona, Pryor commits wholeheartedly to the role. A few scattered wisecracks and the occasional reaction shot are not enough for us to view this as anything other than a fully-formed effort from him to deliver a more dramatic, layered performance that indicated his incredible skill beyond simply being a more lighthearted presence. Harvey Keitel reunites with Schrader after their shared breakthrough working on Taxi Driver, and as the film’s de facto protagonist (since Pryor’s character undergoes a major shift in personality), Keitel brings his grizzled, intense charm to life on screen, capturing the plight of this ordinary man forced between doing what is easy and what is right. Finally, the eternally underappreciated Yaphet Kotto is a welcome presence as a gentle but still quite intimidating character, who ultimately becomes the film’s tragic hero as a result of being the victim in one of the most shocking scenes, and the one in which Blue Collar truly turns a corner and becomes a far more harrowing experience. Populated by many exceptional actors in both central and supporting roles, the film captures the spirit of this era with such precision, carefully handcrafted through a collaboration between Schrader and his cast, all of whom are equally committed to telling this shocking and unsettling story.

The politics and social commentary at the heart of Blue Collar consist of Schrader making some very bold assertions, and not all of them are particularly relevant or politically correct, but still have a lot of merit, even if we simply want to perceive this film as a product of its era. There will always be something that will resonate with viewers – we have all encountered employers who believe we can be exploited and who neglect to consider the fact that we have rights. This speaks to a much wider issue, namely that of how the classes are separated by factors that are impossible to overcome – the rich become richer as a result of the labour that they exploit, and nothing seems to break the chain, which continues to the present moment. No one is principled enough to be entirely immovable, and anyone can be manipulated into changing their views should the opportunity present itself, which is primarily why workers rights remain such a contentious subject – the moment anyone shows the willingness to challenge the system, they are either eliminated or (perhaps more terrifying) are offered a chance to become a part of the leadership that defines the industry and prevents it from ever becoming anything more than the sum of its parts. It’s a harrowing, haunting drama in which Schrader is not afraid to demonstrate a substantial amount of cynicism, and even as a film designed to represent a particular era, it remains deeply resonant and profoundly disturbing, especially when it strikes a nerve that reveals deeper truths that most would prefer remain entirely dormant.