Fifty years ago, Charles Whitman killed 14 people and wounded 32 others at the University of Texas. While not the first spree killer, Whitman's massacre from atop a sniper's tower captured the public imagination, spurring debate about rising crime and gun laws. The Deadly Tower (1975) offers a sober reconstruction, marginally hurt by its insistence on providing a message.Charles Whitman (Kurt Russell) is an ex-Marine and engineering student at the end of his rope. He kills his wife and mother, buys an armful of rifles and starts shooting passers-by from the University Tower. Off-duty Austin cop Ramiro Martinez (Richard Yniquez) joins the police trying to stop Whitman. The shooter's unwilling to negotiate and the police can't shoot him from the ground, so Martinez leads a desperate assault on the tower.
Shot for NBC, The Deadly Tower provides a gripping docudrama approach. Director Jerry Jameson provides some style touches (an oscillating fan obscuring an early murder) but mostly sticks to a detached approach. Jameson mixes long takes with handheld camerawork, capturing the horror and chaos as the shooting erupts. Students walking to class become targets; police are unprepared to respond. The body counts mounts sickeningly as officials ponder their response.
Writer William Douglas Lansford alters some facts, to mixed effect. Martinez sued the filmmakers for portraying his Caucasian wife as a nagging Latina (Maria Elena Cordero) while colleague Houston McCoy is replaced by a cowardly stand-in (Paul Carr). There's no mention of Whitman seeing a psychiatrist before his killing spree, or little explication of his motives beyond his suicide note. And sharp-eyed viewers will easily spot that Baton Rouge is substituting for Austin.
More damaging is Tower's decision to inject social commentary. Martinez deals with racism (he's passed over for promotion and patronized by fellow cops) in a pat subplot. Police Lieutenant Forbes (John Forsythe) tracks down Whitman's identity while mouthing gun control platitudes at fellow cops and the gunsmith who sold Whitman his weapons. The filmmakers undercut this by showing armed civilians pinning Whitman down, which seemingly affirms the "good guy with a gun" mindset. As Whitman's a murderous monster, such concerns feel misplaced.
Yet Tower aptly ratchets up suspense as its story unspools. Once the initial horror wears off, the movie settles into a tense thriller: the police try an airborne sniper and marksmen but can't take Whitman down. Ramirez dodges bullets and helps wounded bystanders; when his colleagues dither inside the Tower, he takes command and leads the final charge. Perhaps it's a fault that Whitman receives little characterization, but an implacable, inexplicable killer delivers a powerful jolt.
Heretofore star of bumptious Disney comedies, Kurt Russell proves a chillingly credible killer, making Whitman the well-scrubbed, genial boy next door gone mad. Richard Yniguez fares well in a role mostly requiring anguished intensity. John Forsythe's mealy-mouthed homilies strike a false note, along with Maria Elena Cordero's bitchery. Ned Beatty stands out as a bystander who helps take Whitman down. Clifton James and Pernell Roberts play other cops.
The Deadly Tower effectively captures the senseless terror that killers like him inflict. Sadly, Whitman would barely register today, when mass shootings occur every other week. Perhaps it's best that the film provides no explanation for his rampage; we're no closer to understanding his type a half century later.
