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Eastwood is consciously evoked in the opening aerial shot that lays out Atlanta's unshaven industrial side, Burt Reynolds pushes it further by getting the helicopter-camera down to his character, a narcotics cop on his way to an undercover job. (Another bravura movement travels the nocturnal sky to a skyscraper and zeroes in on the deluxe glass elevator carrying the capo di tutti capi, Vittorio Gassman.) The botched operation moves from tunnel bust to hostage situation aboard a moving bus so he's demoted to vice squad, where a gallery of dicks and slobs and Zen disciples (Charles Durning, Bernie Casey, Brian Keith, Richard Libertini) make like rowdy His Girl Friday reporters. "A cesspool, and, if you make waves, I get a mouthful." Assassinations rouse the gang out of the basement, a gubernatorial candidate (Earl Holliman) may be involved, evidence points to the mistress (Rachel Ward) in the luxurious apartment. (The chief is enchanted by the opulence of the underworld: "We are on the wrong side!") Reynolds' achievement lies in a fresh eye in swift takes, resulting in unusual felicities like the cityscape reflected on the window pane during Casey's monologue about abstracting himself during a deadly encounter. There's Henry Silva's operatic turn and a special appearance by Peckinpah's ninjas (The Killer Elite), though the remarkable thing is the intensity of lyricism lavished on a seduction conducted across two buildings during the stakeout. (Chet Baker's "My Funny Valentine" figures in a long-distance duet.) The Laura resurrection, the They Live by Night sanctuary, a rose-shaped woodcut offered as the cosmos of Eighties action grows more and more cynical. "I think we're arriving at what bullfighters call the Moment of Truth." The climax elucidates it all as a dilation from Klute. With Darryl Hickman, Joseph Mascolo, Carol Locatell, and Hari Rhodes.
--- Fernando F. Croce |