“Paranoia’s the garlic in life’s kitchen – you can never have too much” – Thomas Pynchon may have only written these words in his novel Bleeding Edge about a decade ago, but they’re extremely resonant for anyone who is aware of his writing career, particularly the subjects that were the foundation for his books. He is one of the great writers of the 1970s. Like many of his contemporaries, his work touched on the feeling of despair and mistrust that the American people were developing for the political world, particularly the people who were voted in under the pretense of protecting the public, but clearly had their own interests at heart. Few works reflect this better than The Parallax View, in which writer Loren Singer weaves together a fascinating but deeply unnerving tale of how political corruption can trickle down and have an impact on the broader population in ways that are impossible to comprehend, and even more difficult to overcome. His novel was adapted into a film of the same title by Alan J. Pakula, who examines the trials and tribulations of a rambunctious young journalist who sets out to uncover the truth behind a number of mysterious deaths that can all be traced back to the assassination of a presidential candidate a few years before, and in the process he finds himself plunged into a sinister conspiracy that makes him question his own sanity after a while. What seems like a relatively simple potboiler actually evolves into one of the most unsettling depictions of social unease to be produced at the time. With the intricate details embedded in the story, coupled with the overarching sense of despair that drives the narrative, we find that The Parallax View pushes boundaries that many didn’t even realise existed at the time – and while it is the quintessential work of 1970s paranoia, it has aged remarkably well and remains as resonant today as it did five years ago, an achievement that can never be underestimated or even the subject of contention.

If any filmmaker in the 1970s knew the value of a solid work centered on paranoia and conspiracy theories, it would be Pakula – on either side of The Parallax View we have Klute and All The President’s Men, both widely considered not only some of the finest films of the 1970s, but amongst the greatest examples of politically-charged thrillers that dare to venture into a version of reality that was eerily close to what many Americans at the time viewed as they everyday life, unearthing sinister secrets about a seemingly idyllic society, forming what is commonly referred to as his Paranoia Trilogy. Choosing the best of the three is a challenge, but it’s clear that The Parallax View is the most significant in terms of how it relates to the central motif of paranoia – the entire narrative is driven by the concept of a lonely man growing increasingly more isolated as he ventures further into a terrifying conspiracy, realising that what started as a voluntary attempt to show his investigative prowess soon turns into a series of complicated scenarios that are as perilous as they are inescapable. It seems like a straightforward premise, but there is something quite bleak about how Pakula chooses to handle the material, especially in the quieter moments – looking at the plot, you could imagine the film could go in several directions, and while there are a few necessary changes made in the transition from the page to the screen, for the most part the film stays quite faithful to the novel, which is one of the most harrowing pieces of literature produced at the time. The Parallax View is a film in which the ambiguities are not only acceptable; they’re an essential asset to the storyline – the film somehow has both a satisfying ending in terms of how everything comes full circle by the end, as well as a conclusion that is left open for interpretation, which has led to some fascinating conversations on the nature of reality as shown throughout this film, which builds itself up on the premise of being something much deeper and more intimidating, a promise that becomes even more notable the further we venture into the story, uncovering more sinister secrets embedded at the heart of the film.

Looking at a film like The Parallax View from a contemporary perspective half a century since its release, we are not likely going to be able to fully understand the true scope of the implications embedded in the heart of the story – we may recognise the concept of political corruption, and there’s even a possibility that the conspiracies that propel the story are relevant to a lot of modern perspectives, since we are living in an era where the very concept of truth is a contentious topic. Yet, to make a film in the early 1970s about political assassinations, the idea that the government was not on the side of the people was borderline controversial, so to have such an unrelenting, complex work of fiction that is so heavily steeped in dominant conversations from the time is a miracle, especially one that is as unabashedly bold in how it investigates some of the subject matter. Choosing to present it in as factual a manner as possible (often even veering towards cinéma vérité in how some of the shots are presented) adds layers of both intrigue and terror to a film that essentially depends on the tone to keep the audience engaged and invested, since without this dense, complex atmosphere in which we are constantly wondering who (or what) is lurking around every corner, the film would not have much of an impact. The Parallax View is a perfect example of how a script can be impeccable, and the direction flawless, but without the right tonal balance (which here leaps between a number of different sensations, ranging from darkly comical to outright horrifying), a film cannot be successful at conveying certain messages. The scattered tone of The Parallax View may be quite challenging to some viewers, but it makes perfect sense in the context of the narrative, which builds itself up on the promise of an exhilarating experience, which the film delivers without a moment’s hesitation, handling the complex material with nothing but the most sincere ease, something we would expect from a truly great journeyman director.

In much the same way that Pakula was at his peak during this decade, few actors defined the 1970s quite like Warren Beatty, the self-proclaimed “President of Hollywood” who essentially reigned supreme as the embodiment of masculine glamour and charisma, which was coupled with his genuine talents to create quite a distinct persona that he was able to curate for several years while he was at his peak, on both sides of the camera. His performance in The Parallax View is a fascinating one – at a cursory glance, it doesn’t look like he is doing anything particularly notable, other than playing a very similar kind of character to ones we saw him portray a few times around this era. However, to his credit, the character of Joseph Frady is not one who is written to be all that interesting, since he is essentially a cypher that represents the audience, acting as our guide through this story, and being the blank canvas on which the indelible mark of paranoia begins to show. His performance is undeniably solid, and he uses his devil-may-care attitude remarkably well, since playing the role of a cocksure, overly confident hepcat allows us to witness his psychological erosion, leading to those haunting final few moments in which we realise this character has truly gotten himself into a position from which there clearly was no escape. The supporting cast has many highlights, including Hume Cronyn as a newspaper editor who essentially acts as Frady’s enabler without even realising it, and Paula Prentiss as the person who first alerts him to the fact that there might be some sinister plot lingering beneath the surface of these seemingly arbitrary events. The Parallax View may not be driven by its characters, but the performances are uniformly very strong and form the foundation of a solid, complex psychological thriller.

There is a reason why The Parallax View is considered the gold standard for conspiracy thrillers – not only was it produced at a time when these films were at their peak, but it did so during an era when it was seen as potentially quite controversial to even vaguely question the merits of the American political system, which was seen as infallible and without even the slightest sign of a flaw. Naturally, having this film released at the peak of the Watergate scandal was an unintended benefit, since it buttressed the underlying themes of the film, particularly those about the lack of morality in politics, and how many powerful people will resort to desperate measures to hold onto their influence. Obviously, a lot of this film is exaggerated, and the very notion that something like the Parallax Company, an organisation designed specifically to assist the powerful in their efforts to retain their influence through violent means, is somewhat far-fetched, but yet still strikes us as quite resonant, especially living in a time where we are urged to look beyond what we are told is the truth, and encouraged to question reality, granted it is within reason. These aspects of the film have aged incredibly well, and have helped in keeping The Parallax View part of the conversation in terms of films that tackled very relevant issues many decades ago. It’s not the sharpest nor the most precise political thriller from this era, but it certainly is the one with the most ambition, and it gradually builds to such a striking crescendo that we can’t help but feel bewitched by its subversive charms, which may not have been the intention (since the film clearly wants us to be thoroughly shocked), but considering the legacy the film has left behind, it’s fair to assume that there is some merit in how the story develops into something much deeper and more complex, the likes of which are difficult to comprehend. By the end of The Parallax View, very few questions have been answered, and nothing makes much sense – but yet we never feel cheated out of a neat resolution, particularly since it is clear that the overall intention of this film was to reflect the atmosphere of the era in relation to the obvious corruption simmering beneath the surface, which makes for a complex and engaging psychological thriller that proves that paranoia is a truly powerful narrative tool.