For once, here's an edge-of-your-seat action film that's viscerally lean, symbolically rich (perhaps even stunning), and uncluttered by visual noise (a cheap substitute for content), or absurd, `deus ex machina' twists and turns of fate and fortune. This film goes straight to the heart of the problem of conscience, right from the opening song, an old gospel tune that whimsically asks the operator to `give me Jesus on the line.' Every one of who watches this film will identify with the man in the phone booth, because every one of us is guilty of some kind of shortcoming or another. The really fascinating, and groundbreaking, thing about this film is this: it's not clear whether the accusatory voice of conscience is good, or evil, or both; furthermore, it's not clear whether conscience is innate (natural), or conventional (a matter of upbringing, a social construct), or both. The viewer has to make up his or her own mind!
When Stu picks up the phone, he does so by duty, by compunction, by social convention. `A ringing phone has to be answered, Doesn't it?' the caller taunts. He's gained control of Stu by manipulating Stu's innate sense of moral obligation. And like the voice of conscience, the phone booth is `the last vestige of privacy,' in New York, reminiscent of the `my own mind is my church' idea of American individualism, also on the `innate' side of the coin. Then again, on the `conventional' side, the man at the other end spends all his time watching Stu an envious, spiteful person who is, like Stu, a `walking cliché.' His ethical stance is about as nuanced (and deadly) as PTL's Jim Bakker, and just about as compelling. Coward that he is, he attacks Stu at a time of weakness, playing God with unearned entitlement and capriciousness. `If I had a yaller dog that didn't know no more than conscience,' Huck Finn mused, `I'd pison it.'
When Stu picks up the phone, he does so by duty, by compunction, by social convention. `A ringing phone has to be answered, Doesn't it?' the caller taunts. He's gained control of Stu by manipulating Stu's innate sense of moral obligation. And like the voice of conscience, the phone booth is `the last vestige of privacy,' in New York, reminiscent of the `my own mind is my church' idea of American individualism, also on the `innate' side of the coin. Then again, on the `conventional' side, the man at the other end spends all his time watching Stu an envious, spiteful person who is, like Stu, a `walking cliché.' His ethical stance is about as nuanced (and deadly) as PTL's Jim Bakker, and just about as compelling. Coward that he is, he attacks Stu at a time of weakness, playing God with unearned entitlement and capriciousness. `If I had a yaller dog that didn't know no more than conscience,' Huck Finn mused, `I'd pison it.'