Drugstore Cowboy
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Synopsis
Gus Van Sant’s dreamy, drifty, deadpan second feature—an addiction drama based on James Fogle’s autobiographical novel—captures the zonked-out textures and almost surreal absurdity of a life lived fix to fix. Swinging between dope-fueled disconnection and edgy paranoia, Matt Dillon plays the leader of a ragtag crew (also featuring Kelly Lynch, Heather Graham, and James Le Gros) that robs pharmacies for pills, coasting across the 1970s Pacific Northwest while trying to outrun sobriety and fate. With a brilliant supporting turn from counterculture high priest William S. Burroughs and a lyrical feeling for the streetscapes of Van Sant’s hometown of Portland, Oregon, Drugstore Cowboy cemented the director’s status as a preeminent poet of outsiderhood.
Picture 9/10
Gus Van Sant’s breakout second feature, Drugstore Cowboy, receives an all-new 4K UHD edition from The Criterion Collection, presented on a dual-layer BD-66 disc in its original aspect ratio of 1.85:1. The 10-bit SDR 2160p/24hz ultra high-definition presentation is sourced from a new 4K restoration, taken from a scan of the 35mm interpositive. The release also includes a standard dual-layer Blu-ray featuring all of the video features alongside a 1080p presentation of the film from the same restoration.
Despite its acclaim upon release and its role in launching Van Sant’s career, Drugstore Cowboy has oddly fallen by the wayside on home video. Its last North American release was a 2001 DVD from Artisan Entertainment, a presentation that hasn’t aged well—even by DVD standards. A later Blu-ray from Imprint in Australia didn’t fare much better, seemingly sourced from an old high-def master (if not the same one as the DVD) and marred by a poor encode. This new 4K edition finally rectifies that, presenting the film with a fresh new look while still faithfully preserving the gritty '70s aesthetic Van Sant and his team were aiming for.
In a newly recorded interview for this release, director of photography Robert Yeoman discusses how they sought to replicate the look of early-'70s cinema through lighting choices and the use of a grainy film stock. The result is a heavily textured image, with grain that appears thick yet natural, enhanced further by the interpositive source. Despite this, the presentation remains remarkably clean, with no visible macroblocking, ensuring that both darker sequences and brighter highlights maintain a smooth, film-like quality. The digital harshness of previous home video editions is gone, replaced by an image that finally does justice to the film’s intended look.
It’s also the sharpest the film has ever appeared. While the use of the interpositive means finer details don’t pop quite as much as a negative scan might have allowed, the added softness actually complements the film’s organic texture. The transitions to sequences featuring optical effects also feel more natural. Though these sections still have a dupey quality compared to the rest of the film (not counting the Super 8 footage, which looks surprisingly good), the difference isn’t as stark as it would be in a restoration sourced directly from the negative.
Colors lean slightly muted—perhaps even more so than on the previous DVD—but it feels appropriate for the Pacific Northwest setting. When colors do pop, they do so effectively, particularly in the close-up shots of the vibrant, candy-colored pill capsules scattered throughout the film. The lack of HDR is a minor disappointment, as it could have potentially deepened shadows and added more punch to highlights, but I can’t say I missed it much. The dynamic range is still quite good, with deep, inky black levels and a solid amount of shadow detail.
Overall, this is a drastic and much-needed upgrade over all previous editions, making it an essential purchase—even if you already own one of the earlier releases.
Audio 8/10
Criterion includes the film’s original 2.0 surround soundtrack, presented in DTS-HD MA. While I wouldn’t have minded a 5.1 remix or upgrade, this presentation handles the film’s original mix well. Most of the audio is naturally focused on the front channels, with some effects and ambient sounds occasionally extending to the rears when appropriate. However, the real standout is the film’s energetic music soundtrack, which is wonderfully mixed to immerse the viewer. The range is impressively wide, with crisp, clean audio and no distortion. It’s a significant improvement over previous releases and easily the best the film has ever sounded.
Extras 8/10
Artisan’s DVD featured a handful of supplements, and outside of the generic text-based ones (production notes, cast and crew info), they’ve all been ported over. These include the film’s trailer, a 1999 making-of documentary, and an audio commentary featuring Gus Van Sant and star Matt Dillon. The commentary is available on both the 4K UHD and Blu-ray, while all other features are exclusive to the Blu-ray.
The commentary itself is a bit of a mixed bag. While there are some worthwhile insights, the pacing— or lack thereof—hurts it. Van Sant shares technical details about the production, while Dillon recalls working with his co-stars, including how he and Kelly Lynch developed their characters’ relationship by modeling it after The Honeymooners. He also shares stories about working with William S. Burroughs. However, both participants frequently struggle to recall details, leading to a lot of guesswork and dead air, especially in the latter half of the track.
Thankfully, the documentary picks up some of the slack, mixing 1999 interviews with behind-the-scenes footage shot on video during production. It features interviews with other cast and crew members, along with a fair amount of footage of Burroughs on set. There's also an interesting section devoted to the makeup design for a corpse, offering a glimpse into the film’s low-budget practical effects work.
For their edition, Criterion adds some new material, including the previously mentioned interview with Robert Yeoman and another with actor Kelly Lynch. Lynch’s 21-minute interview covers her transition from modeling to acting in the '80s and how she immediately jumped at the chance to be in Drugstore Cowboy after reading the script. She reflects on working with her co-stars, reaffirming what Dillon said in the commentary about how they developed their characters’ relationship, and even gets personal by discussing her own struggles with addiction, particularly her experience with painkillers after a car accident.
Yeoman’s 19-minute interview delves into how he became involved with the film and what it was like working with Van Sant, who at that point had only directed very small indie films, including his debut, Mala Noche. Yeoman describes how Van Sant wasn’t used to working with a larger crew and recalls the challenges of lighting the film. He also details how he studied William Friedkin’s films as reference and explains the reasoning behind various stylistic choices—when to use handheld, when to use dolly shots, and how they approached certain angles. Van Sant mentions in the commentary that cinematographers hate the color green (which is heavily used in the film, with Van Sant treating it as a stand-in for black in a black-and-white film), and Yeoman expands on this with a visual aid, showing how they used lighting to work around it. It’s one of the more informative and educational interviews of its kind, on par with some of Roger Deakins’ discussions, and perhaps even more fascinating because Yeoman, still relatively inexperienced at the time, was figuring things out as he went.
Exclusive to this edition is a collection of deleted scenes running 51 minutes, though it's not a traditional collection. Instead, it resembles the presentation for the deleted scenes Criterion included in their edition of To Die For. In her interview, Lynch mentions seeing an early cut of the film that left her baffled and deeply disappointed, and I suspect that what we get here is a sampling of that alternate version. Most of the footage consists of rearranged sequences or alternate takes, but there are some new moments, including an extended section of the gang trying to track down Dilaudid and an alternate scene in their house featuring Amanda Plummer. If this material does represent the rough cut Lynch saw, she wasn’t wrong—the energy is completely drained from these sequences, and the flow feels off, much like the alternate material from To Die For. It’s a fascinating look at how Van Sant refines his films, carving away and rearranging material until it all clicks.
Rounding out the package is an insert featuring an essay by writer Jon Raymond, which explores the film’s legacy and its influence on how drug addiction is portrayed in cinema today. It’s a solid academic piece, though I would have liked a third-party interview discussing the film’s impact. That minor quibble aside, Criterion has assembled a strong set of supplements, making this the most comprehensive edition of Drugstore Cowboy to date.
Closing
Criterion's new 4K release finally gives Drugstore Cowboy the presentation it deserves after decades of lackluster home video editions.
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