One of Jack Nicholson’s Grimmest Thrillers Is a Beauty to Watch

Jack Nicholson‘s art-house performances always seem more interesting than his larger, more well-renowned roles. From the beautiful Five Easy Pieces in 1970 to smaller films like Mike Nichols’Carnal Knowledge of the following year, Jack’s acting chops are shown off better in small, intimate films. But the film in which he gave one of his most quiet and reflective performances also happens to be possibly his best foray into the arthouse genre: Michelangelo Antonioni’sThe Passenger from 1975. The film—shot in Algeria doubling for Chad—tells the story of a journalist who, while working on a documentary about Chad, assumes the identity of a deceased arms dealer who worked with the rebels in the country’s civil war. It is as much a gripping, existential thriller as it is an easy-on-the-eye advertisement for travel to the Maghreb region.

The cinematography by Luciano Tovoli stands out alongside Nicholson as the supreme performer of the film, presenting one of the greatest cinematic representations of northern Africa and the Sahara desert. Antonioni is not a director renowned for his approachability, nor would Nicholson be an actor renowned for the accessibility of the vast majority of his cinematography, with some notable late-career exceptions (hello, The Bucket List). But The Passenger succeeds in telling a complicated story in an artsy fashion without being so modernist that it’s unreachable. The shooting of the film was itself difficult enough, juggling a director’s ambitious vision with the complex filming techniques he wanted to employ and the on-location shooting that made working conditions exceptionally difficult. However, both Antonioni and Nicholson worked through these difficulties to create an artistic masterpiece in The Passenger, a film that ought to be appreciated more widely by modern audiences.

How Grim Is Jack Nicholson’s Grimmest Thriller, ‘The Passenger’?

There’s no denying the fact that, while still being an accessible film, The Passenger is a tough watch on account of its philosophical depth and grim overtones. The existential dread of the movie is played out through the eyes of David Locke, Nicholson’s character, whose purpose in the film is to make a documentary on Chad, though the film itself is seemingly a documentary about him, as well. It’s by no means the most existential film ever, but it will make the viewer re-evaluate their purpose in life as they see Nicholson’s main character struggle with the same thing. He goes through an exhaustive search for identity and self-expression as the film progresses, seeking an escape from the life that he has built for himself. However, the assumption of the identity of the dead arms dealer only leads to further disillusionment with himself; this intense disassociation leads to fervid introspection for Nicholson’s character, making him question the abilities that one has to escape their past lives.

The visual style of Michelangelo Antonioni, too, creates a contemplative and sobering atmosphere throughout the movie, but it unfortunately doesn’t help the film’s grim and dark overtones. The careful composition of his shots and the characteristically long takes and tracking shots is a great chance for him to show off his technical skills, while the sparse, minimal dialogue are all trademarks of the director, lend themselves to the film’s overtly bleak mood. Even the namelessness of Maria Schneider’s character (simply called “Girl” in the script and in any material related to the film) gives the film a more alien feel to it. Identity is not always the most important thing, evidently.

The Passenger’s narrative structure is ambiguous with many open-ended questions, leaving the viewers with an overwhelming feeling of unease and unresolved tension. The ending of the film, which is arguably the most famous part because of its seven-minute-long tracking shot, is similarly left up to the comprehensive discretion of the viewer. It is by no means one of film history’s most ambiguous endings, but the fact that it’s thematically profound and technically impressive helps to encapsulate the movie’s exploration of self-identity and liberation. This leaves viewers with a haunting, ambiguous conclusion that is both grim and contemplative, the grimness being a central part of the film’s artistic identity.

For How Dark ‘The Passenger’ Is, It’s Beautifully Shot

The on-location shooting of The Passenger, with sand dunes rolling for what looks like thousands of kilometers, is one of the film’s most attractive aspects. Antonioni always seemingly preferred shooting in real locations compared to a studio, presumably to give his films a more realistic feel and touchthat is lost when filming on a sound-stage. Antonioni’s entire cinematography speaks to an emptiness in the world, particularly his much-revered 1967 thriller, Blow-Up. However, there is no film where that emptiness is shown more starkly than The Passenger. It’s easy to make a desert feel empty, but to capture the emptiness while also capturing its rugged liveliness is not an easy task. Antonioni, however, was able to accomplish this.

The desert scenes for the film were shot in Algeria in northern Africa and do a great job at making that part of the world look gorgeous on film; the vast desert enhances the viewer’s immersion into the story as they lose themselves watching these rolling dunes. Such location shooting narrows the viewer’s focus, and Antonioni and Tovoli create a fantastic visual dichotomy between the African parts of the film and the European parts of the film, contrasting vast, empty deserts with loud and bustling European cities. These differences highlight how much has changed for Locke in his new life compared to the past life from which he is escaping. The performance of Nicholson, portraying the complexities the character is feeling, is one of his most underrated performances and one of his most withdrawn and reserved, feeding into the film’s ambiguity.

‘The Passenger’ Is One of Jack Nicholson’s Boldest Moves in Film Acting

The move to European cities represents the complicated new life that Locke has chosen for himself, with the busy, loud atmosphere symbolizing the entanglements of his new life. The locations that Antonioni chose are not just visually striking as backdrops, but they’re also vital to the film’s narrative and thematic exploration. The rugged beauty of the landscape in Africa and the claustrophobia of the European locations is like holding a mirror up to Nicholson’s character, reflecting on exactly what it is that he’s going through at the various stages of the film. These locations help make The Passenger one of the more intriguing arthouse thrillers to have been made in the 1970s.

The Passenger represents one of Jack Nicholson’s boldest career choices, but also one of Michelangelo Antonioni’s most accessible films. Like much of modernist cinema, little about the film is obvious and explicitly stated or shown to the audience; the film is very quiet, with little dialogue, music, or background noise at all. The technical quality of Antonioni’s direction and Nicholson’s withdrawn, reserved performance make this one of the greater works from both the director and the actor. There’s no wonder, then, that Sight & Sound chose to place the film 110th in their decennial poll for the best films of all time in 2012. It’s a deeply philosophical exploration of identity and past lives that will make viewers want to go out and explore the vast desert themselves.

The Passenger is available to stream on Tubi in the U.S.

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