The Friedkin Connection

So I often wonder: if you put the three titans of American 70s auteur cinema – William Friedkin, Paul Schrader, and Michael Cimino – in a room with a loaded gun and a gram of coke, who would come out alive? Personally, my money is on Billy Friedkin. I am only more convinced of this after listening to Friedkin’s retelling of his autobiography The Friedkin Connection.

If I’m being honest, the French Connection and Exorcist director seemed like a massive asshole. They say never meet your heroes. And I definitely never wanted to meet Billy. In fact, I’d probably jump his ass in a parking lot. But there’s no doubt that he’s the most underrated filmmaker to come out of the era which produced Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg, and George Lucas. Some would argue that his run during the 70s is unimpeachable. The Boys in the Band (1970) was a turning point in LGBTQ cinema. The French Connection (1971) personified the grittiness that later define the decade. The Exorcist (1973) needs no introduction. Sorcerer (1977), then a box office bomb, now considered Friedkin’s magnum opus. The Brink’s Job (1978), never seen it. Had Billy been able to keep his ego in check, he might’ve coasted his way into the GOAT conversation. With that said, I’m sure Friedkin had no complaints on his deathbed. He ultimately won an Academy Award and married actress/Paramount CEO Sherry Lansing.

What’s interesting is that Friedkin claimed that he never subscribed to the ‘auteur’ theory of cinema, stating that film is a collaborative medium. Mind you, all of his actions with writers, actors, and studio executives say different. But there is something unpretentious and almost proletarian about his direction. That’s probably due to the fact that he was a high school educated kid from Chicago who worked his way up through live television. This greatly contrasted with his peers who attended film school and/or were mentored by Roger Corman.

Now you can talk your shit about audiobooks, but I’m tellin ya, I doubt The Friedkin Connection would hit as hard without Billy himself reading it. So do yourself a favor. Drop a few shrooms, shutter the windows, turn up the sound system, and waste the next 20 hours by listening to William Friedkin tell his story.