Dog Day Afternoon (R)
Cast: Al Pacino, John Cazale, James Broderick, Penelope Allen
Release Date: September 21, 1975
Runtime: 2 hr. 10 mins.
Genre: Detective, Thriller
True story about a bank robbery gone haywire one hot August day when two optimistic losers, the frantic master-mind Sonny, and his slow-witted buddy Sal, attempt to rob a Brooklyn bank.
Review
Dog Day Afternoon was unquestionably one of the most memorable films to emerge from the pre-blockbuster era of the mid-1970s. Headlined by Al Pacino and John Cazale - both elevated to A-list status by the two Godfather films - and directed by veteran Sidney Lumet, the movie became a cultural touchstone with its gritty spin on the hostage thriller. Built on a screenplay that incorporated a significant degree of improvisation and populated by convincingly "lived-in" characters, it explores themes of alienation, the government's neglect of veterans, frenzied media coverage, and Stockholm syndrome. Although primarily a psychological thriller, it blends dark comedy and human drama into a gripping 125-minute experience.
Based on a real-life 1972 bank robbery in Brooklyn, New York, Dog Day Afternoon follows Sonny Wortzik (Al Pacino), a down-on-his-luck Vietnam veteran who decides to rob a bank to finance a sex-change operation for his lover, Leon (Chris Sarandon). His partners in the ill-conceived scheme are the dangerously unstable Sal (John Cazale) and the high-strung Stevie (Gary Springer). Having once worked at a bank, Sonny knows some procedures and initially uses that to his advantage, but he lacks a coherent plan. When Stevie panics and flees mid-robbery, Sonny is forced to improvise - something he's not very good at. The situation quickly devolves into a hostage crisis when the police arrive, forcing Sonny to negotiate with the top cop, Sgt. Moretti (Charles Durning), and FBI agent Sheldon (James Broderick) while Sal keeps the bank employees at gunpoint.
Lumet's decision to shoot entirely on location rather than in a studio, along with his careful choice of camera angles, heightens the film's edginess and verisimilitude. (Reportedly, the bank set - built inside an abandoned warehouse - was so convincing that several would-be customers stopped in intending to open accounts.) Dog Day Afternoon is a powder keg of roiling tension, with violence threatening to erupt at any moment. Although we sense from the outset that Sonny is not inherently violent, he is under extreme stress - and Sal is clearly not of sound mind. His eyes are haunted, his expression often vacant, and when Sonny bluffs about killing everyone, Sal signals a willingness to follow through.
Sonny's ability to manipulate the crowd and play to the news cameras shapes his interactions with the police. With Sal's trigger finger twitching, Sonny is able to step outside the bank and speak directly to law enforcement without immediate fear of being arrested. Although Sgt. Moretti quickly loses his trust, Sonny is better able to deal with the poker-faced Sheldon. At one point, he whips the growing crowd of onlookers into a frenzy with his famous "Attica! Attica!" chant - referencing the infamous 1971 prison uprising and its violent police suppression. The breaking news story quickly becomes must-see TV in a classic "if it bleeds, it leads" media circus, with Sonny's own family learning about the situation through the live coverage. Lumet would revisit and expand on this media-obsession theme in his next film, 1976's masterful Network.
The film's tone is perfectly matched to the material. While there are white-knuckle moments, much of the story centers on the growing bond between Sonny and the hostages (with Sal remaining aloof) and the empathy the captives develop for their captor. Lumet threads in moments of twisted comedy - such as Stevie's panicked departure and his baffled attempt to figure out how to get home without the car - providing relief from the otherwise intense experience. At the time of its release, Dog Day Afternoon was praised by pro-LGBT groups for its sensitive depiction of a gay man's relationship with a trans lover, an aspect of the film that still plays as authentic today.
Pacino's method-driven performance as Sonny is the beating heart of Dog Day Afternoon. One of a quintet of Oscar-worthy turns from the actor in the 1970s (the others being the two Godfather films, Serpico, and ...And Justice for All), Sonny showcases Pacino at his most emotive and hyperkinetic. In contrast, John Cazale delivers a low-key yet equally potent performance—his third collaboration with Pacino. Cazale made only five films before dying of lung cancer, and all five are now regarded as classics. Although Pacino and Chris Sarandon received Oscar nominations, Cazale was overlooked. And while Pacino's loss to Jack Nicholson for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest was understandable, it continued a frustrating pattern that persisted until his eventual win for Scent of a Woman.
For Lumet, Dog Day Afternoon came during the most fertile stretch of his 55-year career. Although he had notable successes before the 1970s - such as 1957's Twelve Angry Men and 1964's Fail Safe - his output from 1973 to 1976 (Serpico, Murder on the Orient Express, Dog Day Afternoon, and Network) stands as the most celebrated run of his career. Of those, Dog Day Afternoon and Network rank not only among the finest films of their respective years but also as defining works of the decade.
As with many older films - Dog Day Afternoon marked its 50th anniversary in 2025 - part of its appeal lies in the "time capsule" glimpse it offers into the past. But there's far more here than just a fly-on-the-wall view of mid-'70s New York. Time has neither dulled the movie's impact nor diminished its power. The Lumet-Pacino collaboration remains as thrilling for today's audiences as it was for the parents and grandparents who first experienced it in theaters.
© 2025 James Berardinelli
Synopsis
True story about a bank robbery gone haywire one hot August day when two optimistic losers, the frantic master-mind Sonny, and his slow-witted buddy Sal, attempt to rob a Brooklyn bank.