I found Cold Turkey (1971) to be a bit of a puzzle. A consultant convinces a fictional tobacco industry of the 1960s and 1970s to follow in the footsteps of Alfred Nobel, who, for those readers not up on their history, used the profits from his invention of dynamite to fund the Nobel Peace Prize, promoting peace and not war. The gig? The industry offers a $25 million prize to the town in America that can stop smoking for a month. The idea is to endear the tobacco industry to the world.
It’s not entirely clear why they think this should work, but then there’s a lot of skimming over weak points in this film.
The focus then descends on the depressed town of Eagle Rock, Iowa, which has seen both industry and government exit the town, leaving it primarily with churches and the wearily desperate. When the announcement comes, Rev. Clayton Brooks grabs the reins and leads the effort to cleanse the town of the devil tobacco, his wife swirling helplessly behind him. We see the unmitigated use of social shaming to force townsfolk into signing onto the pledge, extending even to the town doc, Doctor Proctor, helpless in his addiction. Even a new hospital dangling in front of him cannot break the Satanic hold.
And then comes Day 1, Day 2, Day 3. A “massage parlor” opens up, much to the relief of some of the smokers. Rev. Brooks, himself a former smoker who took the habit back up so that he could join the smokers on their month long abstinence, discovers his wife’s charms will distract him from the urge to smoke. Again. And again. And again.
As the days pass, though, the tobacco industry is becoming more and more nervous, because they as strong as the addiction of tobacco might be, their addiction to money is stronger. They pressure the consultant to find a way to shoot down Eagle Rock’s dreams. As he and his hired guns descend on the town to find cheaters, they run into the town’s own proctors, a self-deluded bunch who spout anti-communist and anti-government slogans, even as a military man appears with offers of possible industry return to the heartland.
Amidst the frantic chasing after the material prize, led by the good Reverend, Mrs. Brooks finally reprimands her husband for being a monster, but to no effect, for to him the Good Book always has the answer that affirms his essential rightness in the world. There is no self-awareness here as the dash for the cash consumes them all.
In the climax, the abstaining smokers hungrily await the clanging of the town clock’s midnight hour, the industry’s fixer attempts to entice the smokers into indulging too soon, President Nixon shows up to announce Eagle Rock will become home to a missile manufacturing plant, the anti-communist old lady’s gun gets loose in the guise of a cigarette lighter and proceeds to shoot Doctor Proctor, Rev. Brooks, and one or two other people (with an admirable lack of blood and gore), and the town dog proceeds to pee all over the wounded Reverend.
Yeah, take a big breath.
The final scene? The new manufacturing plant, belching copious amounts of oily pollution into the clear blue sky from its four stacks, is negating the benefits of the recent campaign, as if Earth itself wants to poison itself in search of the tobacco buzz.
This sort of story is out of a tradition of satire with which I have a certain lack of sympathy. Characters are motivated, true, yet they’re more like wind-up toys than self-aware creatures. They’re set on their courses with little chance of correction coming from introspection. Does Rev Brooks ever wonder if the $25 million prize is more of this world than the next? No, not really. Desperation has set him off, a more prestigious posting is dangled in front of him if he succeeds, and he’s off and running.
And I shan’t deny there’s a certain social good in such satires. The ability to be introspective, to recognize and correct errors in one’s behavior, is an important part of being human. It may be the most important part. Demonstrating that its lack can lead to absurd consequences is important. But I don’t have a great deal of patience with it.
But if my reader has that taste, this is not a bad example of it. Or, if you like the cars of the 1950s and 60s, this is also not a bad film to watch, as there are a number of attractive examples.
