8/2/06: The Cross and the Switchblade (1972)

In vino veritas—or, nobody in the history of drunken ranting has ever said things he didn’t believe. Ergo, Mel Gibson is an anti-Semite. That’s okay. This site forgives many artists for their creepy personal shortcomings.

Powerline still reminds us that Gibson wasn't everyone's conservative hero, while Ed Driscoll has good examples of proper outrage. But what of those who now understandably want to replace The Passion of the Christ in their DVD collections?

Stock up on The Cross and the Switchblade. For one thing, the writer and director will never let you down. Don Murray has been a hero to RightWingTrash ever since his own starring turn in 1961’s Hoodlum Priest. Even better, The Cross and the Switchblade stars reliable Pat Boone as real-life street preacher David Wilkerson.

Let’s not kid ourselves: The Cross and the Switchblade has plenty of laffs. It’s a short internet search to find hipsters cracking wise over the ludicrous music and squeaky-clean ghetto gangs. The movie still wins us over on a few fronts—including an opening where Wilkerson brandishes his Bible to the open derision of newspaper reporters.

But the most likable thing about The Cross and the Switchblade is Pat Boone’s single greatest film performance. This is even better than his Night Gallery episode. In real life, Wilkerson turned out to be kind of a nutcase. Boone—presumably with Murray’s blessings—isn’t afraid to capture the guy’s psycho vibe. There's no religion required to enjoy our hero’s crusade against big-city sin.

You haven’t seen true tough love until Wilkerson comes across gang leader Nicky Cruz—played by Erik Estrada—bleeding in an alley. The preacher decides that the cross is stronger than both a switchblade and a doctor’s scalpel. The emergency room can wait while Wilkerson lectures Nicky about God’s forgiveness. Estrada shows some early talent by giving the preacher a look of proper disbelief.

Also, Wilkerson’s biggest adversary—and the ghetto’s most vocal advocate of violence and drug use among blacks and whites—is a guy named Abdullah. That seems believable.

And don’t forget Jackie Giroux as an amazingly slutty Last Temptation of Boone. Hard to believe that performance ever made it into church auditoriums. That’s where The Cross and the Switchblade made most of its money. Boone once explained to us that the American Baptist backers passed on a real distribution deal because they didn’t trust Hollywood types.

Actually, it sounded like maybe the Baptists didn’t trust Jewish Hollywood types. Boone, however, had no such qualms. The man will not let you down.

Make it your own: Whether out of reverence or ridicule, The Cross and the Switchblade rated a recent 30th Anniversary edition on DVD. You can also try picking up the old comic book adaptation—with a cover that features the movie’s best dialogue.

 

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