You Ain't Seen Me, Right? – Rollover (1981)

Get ready for a knowledge-gasm as You Ain’t Seen Me Right? lets you get to know another little-known film intimately behind a drawn curtain of facts and vocabulary. Just remember – no touching.

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Rollover (1981)
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Alan J. Pakula spent the ‘70s documenting the gradual erosion of America’s faith in its institutions, making a trio of films informally know as the Paranoia Trilogy. Tapping into a rich vein of cynicism, Klute (1971), The Parallax View (1974) and All the President’s Men (1976) reflected a widely held suspicion of public servants and industry titans alike, weaving grand narratives of greed and corruption. Along with other proto-conspiracy thrillers like The Conversation (1974) and Three Days of the Condor (1975), Pakula’s films laid the groundwork for everything from The X-Files to Dan Brown.

In Rollover, Hubbel Smith (Kris Kristofferson) is a no-nonsense financier put in charge of the recently bailed out Borough National Bank by First New York Bank chairman, Maxwell Emery (Hume Cronyn). Looking for a way to meet the failing bank’s next dividend, Smith devises a plan to facilitate a loan for a company in even worse shape, Winterchem Enterprises. When Winterchem’s chairman is murdered, his widow, Lee Winters, (Jane Fonda), an actress turned socialite, takes control of the company. Hubbel and Lee become financially and romantically involved, unearthing the circumstances behind her husband’s murder, and a plot with dire implications for the world economy.



Rollover begins with a tracking shot to rival Welles’ bravura opening to Touch of Evil (1958); scanning the empty trading floor in a single shot. Pakula’s approach was perfectly suited to the demands of such an abstruse project, his attention to detail precluding him from tempering the esoteric dialogue or allowing the performances to undermine the credibility of a scene. Guglielmo Garroni and Giuseppi Rotunno’s photography succeeds in conveying the opulence of the glittering functions, swanky suites, capacious boardrooms and plush offices where the critical decisions are made. The frenzied energy of Evan Lottman’s editing captures the tumult of the trading floor, while Michael Small’s score is a master class in the steady accumulation of suspense.

Fonda’s third collaboration with Pakula outlines the dichotomy that makes her one of the most fascinating and divisive performers of her generation; her glamour matched only by her gusto, her beauty belying a mental acuity and spiritual resolve, aging gracefully and evolving without losing her inner fire. Kristofferson initially seems like a strange choice to play Hubbel, but his rugged charm and gruff demeanour works surprisingly well, delivering most of the memorable lines in his sonorous drawl. The scenes between Kristofferson and Cronin are a particular joy, showing two schools at work; the wily veteran and the cocky upstart trading chops.

It is important to view Rollover in the context in which it was conceived; a time when the ’73 Arab Oil Embargo and ’79 Energy Crisis threatened the stability of the global consensus, and exposed America’s declining hegemony. One of the film’s central contentions is that globalisation leaves us all exposed when things go awry, placing us at the mercy of the financial elite’s often reckless speculation. Rollover’s doomsday scenario is so chilling because it is wholly plausible, its themes as relevant now as they were on its release.
Once again, I have dun learned something about a film I didn’t know existed. It goes without saying that if any of you want to buy me these films so I can see them for myself, please get in touch. More from You Ain't Seen Me, Right? next week.