Monday, July 29, 2019

"The Taking of Pelham One Two Three" (1974)

This is one of those great, gritty, police dramas from the 1970's that almost constitute a genre onto themselves.  Hard-bitten actioners like "Dirty Harry", "The French Connection", "Serpico", "Dog Day Afternoon". And while this entry is a grade below those illustrious ground breakers it's definitely worthy of their company. The plot is lean and mean: a group of passionless bad guys attempt to kidnap a New York City subway train in the middle of the afternoon and they'll kill one passenger every minute if they don't get the hostage money (don't laugh at the amount, one million dollars was a lot of money back then). Robert Shaw is the taciturn gang leader. Efficient, cold, and scary, Shaw spits out his dialog like he's being forced to. Things turn into a back-and-forth negotiation with him and the head of the Transit cops, Walter Mathau, giving one of his patented world-weary nonchalant performances that fit him like a glove. The script is filled with some good laughs to ease the high tension, usually delivered by a cross section of cops, transit bureaucrats, and city hall officials all enmeshed in the citywide emergency. Director Joseph Sargent juggles all the action and banter with deft touch, it's probably his best directorial effort. The real unsung heroes here are David Shire turning in a jazzy, jangly score and cinematographer Owen Roizman giving the whole piece the right amount of grimy beauty. The Lindsey era Big Apple looks so menacingly scary no wonder President Ford would famously tell it to drop dead the following year, who wouldn't?


Monday, July 22, 2019

"Sudden Fear" (1952)

After a slump, Joan Crawford's career came roaring back with this big fat hit, and justifiably so. Much like her classic "Mildred Pierce", this is one of those mash-up film noirs, equal parts woman's picture and crime thriller. She's a wealthy San Francisco heiress who's also a successful Broadway playwright (only in the movies, folks). When a May/September romance blooms with a opportunistic younger actor, a vulpine Jack Palance with more cheekbones than an ad for Botox, things turn shady. See, Palance is really in love with his girlfriend on the side, she of the bee-stung lips and kazoo-like voice, Gloria Graham. What if they could bump off the old gal and get all her moolah for themselves? But then, what if La Crawford finds out about the seedy scheme and decides to turn the tables with some nefarious shenanigans of her own? The script is so chock-a-block full of plot it's like a Rube Goldberg machine, there are so many set-ups you see coming but like a row of dominoes, it's so satisfying to see them all pay off. There's one famous and wordless suspense setpiece that Joan does wonders with...it's all in the eyes and tormented facial gestures, and it's agonizing. No wonder she pulled off an Oscar nod for it. Kudos to director David Miller, there's not a bad composition or needless shot in the whole picture. And if you dig really deep you might find a message here about single working women of a certain age and whether they really need the love of man to find true happiness. SPOILER: they don't.