Frank Serpico joined the New York City Police Force in 1959. Over the course of the next twelve years he became increasingly disturbed by the rampant corruption he found within the force and was frequently harassed by fellow officers for not taking payoffs. Unable to get any active response from their superiors, Serpico and another officer, Sergeant David Durk, went public with the information. As a result, New York Mayor John Lindsay in 1970 empowered a panel, known as the Knapp Commission, to investigate widespread corruption among the police. In the course of this process, Serpico was shot in the face during a drug bust; there was suspicion he might have been set up by other officers because of the way the bust and the aftermath of his shooting were handled. Disillusioned and exhausted by the toll his stand against the system had taken on him, Serpico retired from the force in 1972, a month after receiving the department's highest award, the Medal of Honor. He relocated to the relative anonymity of Switzerland for almost a decade and returned to the U.S. in 1980.

Author and journalist Peter Maas (1929-2001) had written a best-selling and critically praised book about a real-life Mafia informant, The Valachi Papers in 1969, a seminal work that launched a new genre of crime books; among the most famous of this new trend in the book industry was the fiction novel The Godfather by Mario Puzo. Always interested in stories about "organized crime, organized corruption and people whose revelations shattered myths or created new ones," Maas became intrigued by Serpico's story and wrote a book about it, focusing more on the colorful title hero than on fellow whistle blower David Durk, who was still a much harassed member of the NYC police force. The book quickly became a bestseller.

Peter Maas said, "I've been a reporter for 15 years, but Serpico was the first to come along and say, 'This is wrong and I'm going to do something about it!'...If society in America is going to mean anything, it's got to start with a guy like Serpico. He followed his conscience despite enormous pressures."

In the early 1970s, Martin Bregman was a successful manager and representative of a number of film industry people, including actor Al Pacino, but he was more interested in becoming a producer. He had lunch with Peter Maas' agent Sam Cohen who told Bregman about Serpico, Maas' book, and their interest in making a film of it. Bregman decided this would be his first project as producer, and that he would champion Pacino, then coming off the success of The Godfather (1972), as the lead.

"Within 20 minutes of our first meeting," Maas recalled, "Al started absorbing his role through his pores. It was almost like he was inhaling the guy."

Bregman approached a number of studios but could not get financing because they felt that the police drama genre was played out. According to Bregman there had been 17 films in the previous two years dealing with cops and "most of them were dreadful," with super heroic officers who cleaned up the streets and took out dozens of criminals in big raids and shootouts. "It wasn't real," Bregman said. "Having grown up in New York and raised in fairly tough areas, I knew what cops did. Most of them never fire their weapons."

Cohen sent Bregman to Dino De Laurentiis, who had produced the film version of The Valachi Papers (1972), also based on a Maas book. De Laurentiis liked the project and was particularly drawn to Al Pacino.

Reports in Varietyand Publishers Weekly in 1972 may indicate a slightly different deal making process than the one Bregman describes. According to various news items, the film rights were sold to De Laurentiis for $400,000 (and a promise of Maas' active participation on the film) six months prior to the publication date of the book. Maas was quoted as saying he wanted to give De Laurentiis first shot at the movie rights because he "had guts enough" to do the film of The Valachi Papers when no one else would touch it.

Bregman got to know Serpico much better during the research phase while the producer was still hunting for a director for the project. The two of them were in an otherwise empty art house cinema in New York checking out the work of a particular director. Aware they were alone, Bregman lit a cigarette, figuring it would disturb no one. Serpico told him to put it out, regardless of who was or was not there, because it was against the law. "He was very strict about morality and following the rules," Bregman noted.

Initially, John Avildsen was hired as director based on Bregman's admiration for his work on the movie Joe (1970). But they quickly disagreed, according to Bregman, over Avildsen's insistence on focusing more on the bigger political story and the Knapp Commission hearings. "That's a television show," Bregman said. "I wanted to make a film about the character." News items at the time of Serpico's development, however, said the disagreements were over budget and locations. One article stated that everything came to a head when Bregman "refused to accede to the director's demand that key scenes be filmed at Frank Serpico's actual boyhood home in Brooklyn," a choice Avildsen made to heighten a realistic approach to the story. The two had clashed repeatedly, with Avildsen quitting and then being coaxed back, but by April 1973, he was completely off the production.

Sidney Lumet was approached to take over directing on Serpico. According to Lumet, his involvement was quickly confirmed: He read the book, met De Laurentiis, and a day later met with Bregman and Pacino, all within about three days. This happened barely 10 days before rehearsals were about to begin and six weeks before principal photography.

The first writer on the project was Waldo Salt, the formerly blacklisted screenwriter who had previously won an Academy Award® for Midnight Cowboy (1969). Lumet found Salt's script "marvelous" but, at 240 pages, far too long; the movie would have been more than four hours. Then Norman Wexler, who wrote Joe, was brought in to give it structure and cut the script down. Although Wexler was masterful at structure, his dialogue couldn't match Salt's more accomplished skill in that area. "So we basically ended up shooting Waldo Salt's language and Norman Wexler's structure" for the entire film, Lumet said.

The script of Serpico stuck fairly closely to the facts, although certain details, such as Serpico's three marriages and other relationships and the names of many of the principals in the story, were altered. Time was also compressed so that it appeared as if events happened over a shorter period than an entire 12-year time span. Also, fellow whistle-blower David Durk was left completely out of the story; his part in the story was semi-fictionalized as the made-up character Bob Blair. Others who testified before the Knapp Commission were also left out of the film version.

Lumet met Frank Serpico about three days before rehearsals were to begin and found him "extraordinary" and great fun. Serpico had been invited by Pacino to stay with him in a house on Montauk, Long Island, and the two spent a lot of time together while Pacino studied him and spoke to him about his life and experiences. Serpico also sat in on script conferences and contributed ideas. When it came time to shoot, Bregman and Pacino felt that Serpico's presence on the set would be a distraction, so they told him he could not be involved in the production in any way. "His feelings were enormously hurt," Lumet said. "He had this fantasy that show business would be his new life and that [Pacino and Lumet] would be his best friends."

by Rob Nixon