Sidney Lumit's Dog Day Afternoon (1975), based on a true story, opens with several wholesome shots of urban America à la A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945), but fifty years later. After seeing a boy play baseball, a dog rifle through trash, and a boat pull up to a loading dock, you might think you're in for an indie drama, not a true crime film. But for a true crime film, Dog Day Afternoon is as introspective as it gets.
Indie films, like literary novels as opposed to commercial novels, slow down to examine the complexity of life. The plotline in which those complexities play out takes a secondary role. Heist movies, on the other hand, (think Ocean's 11) prioritize action and excitement over contemplating the reasons a given character might try to, for instance, steal a fortune. Enter: Al Pacino.
In Dog Day Afternoon, Pacino gives an impassioned performance, vaulting into the manic headspace of Sonny Wortzik, a marked difference from the stoic Michael Corleone of The Godfather (1972). From the first few shots of Dog Day, Lumit makes it clear this movie will examine character and place as much as the plot. That also holds true in the first few moments of the bank robbery. Sonny's team is comically disorganized, contrasting the militarized gangs of many action movies today, such as the bank robbers in The Dark Knight Rises (2012).
The first disaster of Dog Day Afternoon comes when the third member of Sonny's trio bails just before Sonny unveils his weapon in the bank. After heading out, the deserter darts back into the bank, as Sonny unleashes his weapon from its cardboard sheath, and hands Sonny the keys to the getaway car. This exchange acts as a thesis statement for the film. You wouldn't normally expect a bank robber to pause a hold-up to grab the car keys from his would-be accomplice. But in Pacino's frantic portrayal of Sonny, this exchange seems characteristic of the group of friends. Oh, I mean bank robbers.
