There are probably two ways you can watch Sam Peckinpah’s Straw Dogs, the 1971 psychological thriller based on Gordon M. Williams’ novel The Siege of Trencher’s Farm, and a complicated target for film rating boards who couldn’t simply release the film in its purest form. We’ll get to that later.

You could just watch it as a well-made action film with a cinematography that’s gritty, sweaty, and claustrophobic. Dustin Hoffman is fantastic in the film, and it does well for an introductory part of his career. The film’s pace is uncomfortable to say the least, but this doesn’t have an effect on the final goal: a bold third act that resolves the conflict without overthinking it. If Peckinpah wanted to go with basic action, then it shows.

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Or you could also watch Straw Dogs as a more profound film that goes beyond ‘rooting for the good guy.’ There’s a primal aspect to Straw Dogs that’s actually what made it so complicated at first. Violence is innate, and Peckinpah takes this and reflects it without restrictions. But aside from what people usually think, the violence in Straw Dogs isn’t only from the punches, screams, and property destruction. The violence goes beyond “good guys fight bad guys.” This is a dream destroyed by something that characterizes us as humans.

Violence Isn’t Necessarily Physical

     20th Century Fox  

In Straw Dogs, David and Amy move to England. He’s an American scientist (seen by many as a nerd), who happened to marry the beautiful girl from the countryside. Amy has a past, and it’s related to the men who are hired to work on the farmhouse they’re now living in.

This isn’t a problem until the men get flirtatious, Amy starts belittling David, and the marriage starts to crumble. He faces the gruff locals who aren’t exactly afraid of him, and he’s quick to back down; he’s a pacifist. Not even the murder of their cat can convince David to take a stand. But then things go too far, and the locals show their true goal, and perhaps his wife shows her true colors. There’s a sexual assault, and it’s the catalyst for David’s transformation into something else entirely when he decides to face the men, and use whatever’s at hand to keep him and Amy safe.

Up to this point, Straw Dogs hasn’t shown its face completely. It’s a thriller made up of a complex storyline about a couple facing enemies, but also a monstrous side of a relationship that wasn’t based on honesty (or clarity, to be generous). In the first act, violence isn’t a volatile factor. It’s just a trait of the first layer Peckinpah decides to reveal: the promising American scientist isn’t successful in his project, as methodical as he can be to fix things. His wife isn’t happy with his performance, and she subtly shows it. This is an emotional blow, and one of many depressing examples of the film’s utter honesty about marriage and sex.

The Reaction That Nobody Dares to Mention

Straw Dogs is well-known for its scenes of violence, which were fairly graphic for non-horror films in the early ’70s. But punches and blows weren’t exactly the first thing that caught the eye of censors. It was the two rape scenes that made them uncomfortable when trying to rate the film.

And it wasn’t only uncomfortable for them; audiences weren’t used to this. Sexual assault is a horrible reality that people have had to endure, but Peckinpah takes it one step further and focuses on Amy’s submission, as quiet and unclear as it is. This is probably best interpreted by viewers as they watch it, but there’s a clear difference between the first and second sexual assault. You have to see it for yourselves, but the infamous moment is Amy’s reaction to the second assault.

Every take is different. It calls for different opinions, and Peckinpah confirms nothing about it. In any case, seeing her flirt at first and then react in different ways to the assault probably had people discussing it for a long time. Amy isn’t exactly a likable character, and this doesn’t help at all. It’s why David’s excessively violent reaction is much more acceptable to audiences, as he becomes the moral compass in a landscape where bad and good keep getting mixed up in a constant twist, until he himself gets shattered. Is his violent response a reaction to their assault of his wide? Or is he reacting to her reaction to the assault? What ultimately breaks David, destroying his pacifist philosophy?

Exposing Layers Amidst Chaos

In the end, the film enters its recognizable stage of violence and nihilism that made it well-known among its peers. David turns into a vigilante and doesn’t sit still when choices have to be made. He unleashes a primal aspect of his personality that he never wished to address, but which became inevitable. It’s almost impossible to guess if he’s doing it because he wants to avenge an unspeakable act or if he’s enjoying turning into a violent man.

Peckinpah doesn’t solve this enigma, and it isn’t necessary either. David’s journey is a gritty reflection of a descent that was probably bound to happen at some point in his life. He wasn’t a child becoming a man. He was a man becoming a monster, one that modern society always expected to show up.