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Charles Burnett made Killer of Sheep as his MA thesis for
the film programme at UCLA, and since then it has led a sheltered life
as the greatest film no-one has been able to see, partly due to
copyright issues regarding the soundtrack. However, this has not
stopped the film being listed on the National Registry of Film by the
US Congress. The film is shot in black and white, and is essentially a look at one man’s life and his relationships with his wife, children, his work and friends. Our main man is Stan (Henry Gayle Sanders), he works in an abbatoir for sheep, hence the title of the film, and suffers from insomnia which is directly affecting the sexual relationship with his wife (Kaycee Moore). Famously shot over a year of weekends by Burnett using his own friends and family for a paltry budget of $10,000, there is more truth and honesty in this film than the hyper-reality of the blaxploitation films of the same era – such as Superfly and Black Caesar. Burnett has expressed his admiration of the post-war Italian neo-realism by Rosselini and De Sica, especially the latter’s seminal Bicycle Thieves. The influence is apparent as from time to time, the camera (our story show-er) leaves the mundanity of Stan and looks at episodes of the other people in his neighbourhood, mostly children playing, picking on each other and men attempting to steal a television. Burnett has a good idea for a shot, as Stan walks down an alleyway he tilts upwards to the sky and children are seen jumping from one building to another, resembling birds or angels, the shot is something original thrust into the real. Burnett also incorporates a real mix of black music to highlight the heritage of black influence – Earth, Wind & Fire, Scott Joplin, Louis Armstrong, and the haunting ‘This Bitter Earth’ by Dinah Washington. The composition plays over an intimate dance between Stan and his wife that is sexually charged and he then walks away from prompting tears from her. Like any documentary moment, this is a private moment we feel we are intruding upon, but it is necessary as it tells us more than any dialogue could do. No words, just actions and it speaks volumes. (The Washington number appears again over the last scene as a flock of sheep enter the abbatoir, with Stan supposedly happy and content with life.) And Burnett after 30 years of trying and going through various avenues to get his voice and vision heard, finally his most distinct, influential film can be seen by a wider audience. Unlike the films of Spike Lee, the other black cinematic voice, whose films are primarily about breaking conventions but then enforcing them; Burnett attempts to film the truth in the tradition of Cassavettes, Killer of Sheep will attest to that motive. KILLER OF SHEEP is on at the bfi Southbank for an extended run until 15th July, along with a series of Burnett’s other earlier films Bless Their Little Hearts (1984) and My Brother’s Wedding (1983) and shorts. More information can be found at www.bfi.org.uk/southbank
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