No barking from the dogs, no smog, and momma cooked a breakfast with no hog

We have long been used to hearing of a certain type of day-to-day life in the ghettoes of LA through the music that we love so dearly. Hip-hop has given us numerous tales of the gritty sides of the struggle for existence in South Central, Watts, Compton and other LA districts, and whether the OG realism of Ice-T, the thugged out anarchy of NWA, the chronic-led chronicles of Dre, Snoop and others, or even the wigged out weirdness of the Pharcyde, we all have an affinity of sorts with the wild, wild west. Movies too have played their part, and who amongst us cannot recite verbatim segments of John Singleton’s seminal tale of morals and murder “Boyz N The Hood”, or indeed the Hughes’ brothers’ equally important “Menace II Society”, both of which are key celluloid moments for film generally, and for the music that inspires and informs them.

And yet there is a film that pre-dates all of these cultural touchstones, a hidden classic that has gone largely unnoticed by the mainstream for decades, and yet which paints perhaps the most vivid portrait of life in South LA. Indeed it is arguably one of the most perfect portrayals of everyday life in any downtrodden district of any urban sprawl, such is its deft touch when dealing with the mundane, the workaday, the listless detachment and humour of life in the margins of the big city. But it is also specifically about Watts, South Los Angeles in the late 1970s.

The film is Charles Burnett’s “Killer Of Sheep”, shot in stages through the early part of the decade, but completed in 1977 and only recently given a full cinematic release. “Killer of Sheep” was actually Burnett’s submission as his thesis for his Masters at LA’s University of California film school, but has gone on to be heralded as a key moment in American film history. It is no less than a certified national treasure, selected as one of the first fifty for preservation on the National Film Registry, and chosen by the National Society of Film Critics as one of the "100 Essential Films" of all time. It is consistently high in critics’ all-time lists. And so why is it so little known in the mainstream? Well there are a number of reasons, the main one being that the rights to the music used throughout the film (to absolutely stunning effect) could not be secured for cinematic use, relegating showings of the movie to film festivals and educational screenings.

Thankfully the UCLA has now paid for music rights, and 2007 saw a full cinematic release, long overdue but still hugely welcome, and is now also available on DVD. There are other reasons also, however. Burnett shot the film for under $10,000 using largely untrained actors. It is a black and white art house film. It depicts the life of black families in the Watts ghetto. It’s story meanders, awkwardly at times, through an austere working class life, saying seemingly nothing and yet so much at the same time. Even if rights were secured, distributors in 1980s America, or elsewhere, were unwilling to touch it as a commercially viable venture.

But as I say, now it is freely available, and I saw the film at London’s brilliant BFI recently. And what a treat it is. Beautifully shot, it features a series of sometimes seemingly unconnected mini-vignettes, centring around the life of Stan, the sheep-killer of the title (not in some fetishist way you understand, but through his mundane and oppressive job in an abattoir). Bu there is little narrative, little in the way of character arc, little in the way of story at all. And yet it is gripping, moving, funny, tender, awe-inspiring and more than anything, real. For it depicts with stunning accuracy and authenticity that which movies often seek to portray and yet distort with ease. Life itself. “Killer of Sheep” may sound a little bleak, depressing even, and containing little of allure to the casual film-goer.

And yet it is far from it. The wide, sweeping and often silent scenes which intersperse the juttering yet real dialogue, scenes of children playing through the urban playground, of chancers and thieves eking out an existence, all side-by-side and connected by the necessity of growth and endurance. It is life in the margins of America, in a quite brilliant film that has itself been largely left in the margins of history. And all-powered by a soundtrack that defies belief in its aptness and quality.

Burnett claimed to want the film to be a history of African-American music as well as a depiction of an element of African-American life, and from Paul Robeson to Dinah Washington, Earth, Wind and Fire to Little Walter, he achieves this equally brilliantly. Although it was ultimately the music that held this masterpiece back from wider recognition, it is the music that gives it roots back into the world it depicts. I told you it was like real life.