killed. 18 Their version of Bonnie and Clydeâs story would not be a history lesson, but a drama that entangled crime and passion, comedy and bloodshed. If Benton and Newman even knew of the Production Codeâs rules that âcrimes against the lawâ¦shall never be presented in such a way as to throw sympathy with the crime,â that âtheft, robberyâ¦etc. should not be detailed in method,â and âthat throughout, the audience feels sure that evil is wrong and good is right,â hewing to those restrictions would have been the furthest thing from their minds. And the Code, which still maintained that âseductionâ¦should never be more than suggested, and then only when essentialâ and that âsuggestiveâ¦postures are not to be shown,â didnât even have language, other than a general opprobrium on âsex aberration,â that could have adequately expressed the futility of their plan to include a sexual ménage à trois (the Jules and Jim influence at its most apparent) involving Bonnie, Clyde, and their strapping male getaway driver. 19
By November 1963, Benton and Newman were putting what they thought were the finishing touches on a seventy-five-page treatment of Bonnie and Clyde and, says Benton, âspecifically writing it for Truffaut.â The constant presence of the directorâs name in their bull sessions represented a combination of hubris, sky-high optimism, and a sliver of actual hope. Though neither writer was particularly well connected, Benton knew someone who knew someone who knew someone. While attending the University of Texas at Austin in the early 1950s, he had become friends with fellow undergrads Harvey Schmidt, an aspiring composer, and Tom Jones, a writer and lyricist. All three went on to serve in the army and then came to New York, where Schmidt and Benton roomed together and occasionally collaborated at Esquire and Schmidt and Jones worked on their first musical. That show, The Fantasticks , opened off Broadway in 1960 to mixed reviews but hung on with remarkable tenacity and was now starting the fourth year of its run. Jonesâs wife, Elinor Wright Jones, had gotten to know and admire Benton; she had even produced a short film he had created called A Texas Romance 1909 , a chapter of his family history told through the paintings of four illustrators. âBob called me one day and said, âDavid and I want to tell you a story,ââ she remembers. Benton and Newman went over to the Jonesesâ Central Park West apartment, bringing with them their treatment and their yellowed issue of Master Detective. 20
Jones was dazzled by their enthusiasm and by their conviction that a movie based on their screenplay could bring a Nouvelle Vague aesthetic to as American a subject as Dust Bowl bank robbers. At the time, she was working as an assistant to Lewis Allen, a Broadway producer who was trying his hand at low-budget art films (that year, he had produced a movie of Genetâs The Balcony as well as Peter Brookâs adaptation of Lord of the Flies ), and she was eager to start producing as well. Her younger brother, Norton Wright, then a twenty-eight-year-old production assistant, shared her ambition. âIn the early 1960s, low-budget pictures were being made in New York City for $350,000, and some of them were good movies,â says Wright, who had learned the ins and outs of working with a tight schedule and minimal budget as a production manager on a number of those filmsââindies,â before the term was in common use. 21 Wright and his sister shared Benton and Newmanâs reverence for the French New Wave and had accompanied Benton on some of his return visits to the New Yorker Theater. And the two writers made a good pitching team: âYou kind of had the feeling that Benton had the history and the heart of it, and David, who was very funny, was the sparkplug, the live wire,â says