New York Times, June 18, 2000

Three years ago, the fledgling director Robinson Devor was searching used-book stores for "an unknown gem" to adapt for his first feature film. Mr. Devor's quest ended when he discovered "The Woman Chaser," a novel by Charles Willeford published in 1960. The novel, narrated in the hard-boiled style of 50's pulps, is the story of a Los Angeles used-car salesman named Richard Hudson whose attempt to redeem his meaningless life by making a movie ends in betrayal and violence when his partner and the studio boss conclude that the film is too disturbing for public consumption. To Mr. Devor, the book suggested a unique opportunity for a fresh take on film noir: a caper film in which the prize is intellectual property, and a violent rampage is justified on the grounds of artistic integrity.

"Richard Hudson is like a ringleader of a gang trying to pull off this big crime caper," Mr. Devor said by telephone from Los Angeles, "but instead of a robbery, it's a movie. That was always my analogy, the creative act as a crime."

Willeford's work has been filmed twice before -- "Cockfighter" (1974) and "Miami Blues" (1990). While each has its merits, neither film was a commercial success. "Cockfighter" has gained a cult following (partly because of the resurgent popularity of its star, Warren Oates, and its director, Monte Hellman), but the film, which was produced by Roger Corman on one of his typically low budgets, represents a seriously compromised version of Willeford's original script. "The film contains few interior scenes," said Betsy Willeford, the widow of the author; Charles Willeford died in 1988. "When it came time for the Roger Corman forced march, entire scenes had to be dropped from the script due to loss of light."

With "The Woman Chaser," however, they got it right, Mrs. Willeford said. "I like it best of the three adaptations. It's uncommercial, the way the book was, and has the courage of its outrageousness."

Presented in the black and white style of late 50's television crime dramas, "The Woman Chaser" (playing through June 29 at the Screening Room in Manhattan) presents L. A. as the Sputnik-spiked, tiki-crazed dreamland of the martinis and mambo set -- a time that was both kooky and dangerous. Landmarks like the Jet car wash, the Capitol Records tower and Club Tee Yee, plus the requisite noirish camera angles (from a low-angle shot, Hudson springs skyward like a hood ornament come to life), lighting and symbol-studded set evoke this mood with verve and flair. Mr. Devor's faithfulness extends to the dramatic structure and to dialogue that is delivered almost word for word. Portrayed by Patrick Warburton (best known as Elaine's obdurate boyfriend

Puddy on "Seinfeld"), Richard Hudson is a beefy and bland super-cad who remains engaging and sympathetic no matter how badly he behaves. At times he appears almost as totemic as the Capitol Records tower, which looms above his used car lot, reminding us of the often-uneasy partnership between art and commerce, which is a theme of the film. And, in what could be the supreme compliment, Mr. Warburton never wears out his welcome, despite the fact that, like Bogart in "The Big Sleep," he appears in every scene of the film. An aural orgy of percussion-driven cocktail lounge music, featuring Tito Puente, Dave Brubeck and Les Baxter, underlines the film's kooky and dangerous tone. The music heightens the edgy mood and mirrors the complexity of Hudson's character. This is a used-car salesman who reads T. S. Eliot, listens to Bartok and appreciates art. His mother and muse is a nutty ballerina who lives with her third husband, a washed-up movie director named Leo Steinberg. One gets the impression that Norma Desmond lives just around the corner.

One night, Hudson experiences a tearful, martini-soaked epiphany behind the wheel of his convertible. Exasperated with the meaninglessness of life, he vows to create something: "One thing! That was all. One little thing. And then, maybe two things. But above all, ONE THING!"

Leo pitches the film to the head of Mammoth Studios, using a blunt synopsis Hudson insisted was all they needed to sell his film: A truck driver driving from San Francisco to Los Angeles runs over and kills a child. He tries to get away. He doesn't. The studio boss likes it and offers them a (very) low-budget deal.

Hudson's script is just as grim and hard-boiled as his synopsis. As monomaniacal as his truck driver while making his film, Hudson crushes every obstacle in his path -- seducing and then (the next morning) firing his secretary, pulling his co-star into the dressing room for a quickie in order to inspire her performance, and convincing Leo to pawn a painting by Rouault to help meet production costs. When the film is completed, everyone agrees that it is a bleak and disturbing masterpiece. Too disturbing, in fact, decrees the Mammoth Studios boss. Leo sides with the studio boss, who takes over the film and informs Hudson that it will be edited and aired on television, with commercial breaks, in order to "destroy the realism." Ironically, "The Man Who Got Away" might have stood a chance of being released but for the fact that, at 63 minutes, it was unconventionally short. Hudson refused to compromise by padding the film, claiming that to do so would be like "adding three more plates to the Last Supper, or another wing to the Pentagon."

When his film is taken out of his control, Hudson goes on a booze-and-revenge-fueled frenzy. In a scene that has delighted festival audiences from New York to Sundance to Seattle, he burns down the studio's film vault in order to regain a sense of control over his creation. During one soliloquy in the novel, Hudson muses that he is "a walking allegory for other people's lives." No kidding. Charles Willeford's writing career contained many parallels with Richard Hudson's pursuit of artistic integrity.

Willeford sold many of his highly literate novels to the pulp trade, where editors changed his titles without notice; "Made in Miami" became "Lust Is a Woman," while the novel he originally titled "The Director" was changed to "The Woman Chaser." Editors also freely cut and edited and added their own material.

Yet, years later, when the B-movie king Roger Corman offered to buy the rights to "Cockfighter," Willeford's hard-boiled re-telling of "The Odyssey", the author not only accepted immediately but insisted that he be hired to write the screenplay. (He also had a part in the film.) Willeford later wrote that working with Mr. Corman was a happy experience, despite the fact that he was forced to do a huge amount of cutting. (Mrs. Willeford says the first draft "would've been longer than 'Gone With the Wind.' ") Unfortunately, the film was a bomb and "Cockfighter" gained a reputation as being the only film on which Mr. Corman lost money.

Although the film is strange and unconventional, the positive response "The Woman Chaser" has received from critics and festival audiences suggest that it may have a happier fate than previous adaptations of Willeford's work. Artistic integrity may not be the only kind that matters, but the fact that her husband's vision resonated so strongly with the filmmakers must mean something, Mrs. Willeford said. "Rob Devor kept the unapologetic story intact and added some memorable visuals," she says. "I think Charles would have been gratified by this movie."