Original Gangster

Little Caesar (Mervyn LeRoy, 1931)

Other than some notable exceptions, pre-Code films are relatively unfamiliar territory for me. This is surprising given that films from nearly a century ago containing sex, violence and various other morally corrupt virtues are of great curiosity to me. Mervyn LeRoy’s Prohibition era crime drama Little Caesar (1931) is a prime example of this; a film which remained unseen by me until recently. Anyone with a vested interest in cinema would be aware of the film by its title alone, along with it being Edward G. Robinson's breakout performance in it. What's more, Little Caesar would serve as the quintessential template for the gangster movie; creating an entire subgenre in cinema.

Adapted from William R. Burnett’s 1929 novel, Little Caesar centres on an out-of-town hoodlum, Caesar Enrico “Rico” Bandello (Edward G. Robinson), who seeks to establish himself within Chicago’s criminal underworld. His reluctant partner Joe Massara (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) is more interested in women and dancing, but nonetheless joins an uncouth Sam Vettori’s (Stanley Fields) gang with Rico. The pair become increasingly distant over time; Rico’s imposing presence and influence within Vettori’s gang contrast with Massara going straight as a dancer at The Bronze Peacock; a club owned by rival gang boss "Little" Archie Lorch (Maurice Black). Furthermore, Joe develops a relationship with his dance partner Olga Stassoff (Glenda Farrell), who wants him to cut ties with the mob, further distancing him from Rico.

Despite the order from the Don, known as "Big Boy" (Sidney Blackmer), for everyone to remain discreet and avoid attracting the attention of the new Crime Commissioner Alvin McClure (Landers Stevens), Rico and his associates commit a robbery at the Bronze Peacock during the New Year celebrations. This results in Rico murdering the commissioner as he leaves the nightclub. Instead of being punished for this breach of protocol, Rico is rewarded for it; including the respect and takeover of Vettori’s gang. Incidentally, the capo acts oddly relieved with his demotion to soldier status once the crew choose Rico over him.

The murder of McClure has Police Sergeant Flaherty (Ralph Ince) investigating the gang and waiting for a potential slip-up. Getaway driver Tony Passa (William Collier Jr.), already a nervous wreck from the robbery, is a weak link. A chance meeting with Otero (George E. Stone), Rico’s new right-hand man, reveals that Tony wants no more to do with the gang; not even in wanting his share of the stolen loot. Tony plans to confess to the local priest. Thus, he is brutally gunned down in a drive-by on the church steps.

Tony Passa’s grand funeral procession through the streets of Chicago is a scene which could have been lifted from Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather films. Rico and his associates ride in the motorcade without any sign of grief. Ironically, the wake is nothing more but a banquet held in honour of the gang's ruthless leader. Amidst the boozy celebrations, the teetotal Rico, ironically foreshadows his own demise:

"And I wish you birds wouldn't get drunk and raise Cain, because that's the way a lot of birds get bumped off." 

Rico’s public exposure and celebrity status provoke contempt from Little Archie Lorch. The rival gang boss plots a hit on the underworld V.I.P. This scene draws a comparison to Coppola’s Vito Corleone being gunned down on the streets. Both characters are highly cautious of anything that might be perceived as suspicious. Rico mocks his would-be assassin after being wounded, remarking, “Fine shot you are!” Joe Massara’s warning about Little Archie’s hit prompts Rico to reminisce about his former partner and wanting to bring him back to the fold. First, however, he has to make an important visit to his Little Archie's club.

In a scene that Brian De Palma obviously took major inspiration from in his film Scarface (1983), Rico runs his rival out of town. With the acquisition of Little Archie's properties and business enterprises, Rico's empire grows. Eventually, the titular rogue takes over "Diamond" Pete Montana's (Ralph Ince) second-in-command position for Big Boy.

Rico’s meteoric rise is entertaining because it further inflates his egomania. The failed assassination attempt only fuels his thirst for power even further; anyone in his way will be met with his "Shoot first, argue afterwards." method.

The bling he wears is not merely for show but serves as trophies taken from those who were once above him and in his way. The derby hat, dapper suits and spats shoes also materialistically exemplify his increasing social status. When Rico is made the new boss of Northside Chicago, the expository on-screen text reads:

"Rico continued to take care of himself, his hair and his gun — with excellent results."

Homoerotic subtext is evident in the film. This is most apparent in Rico’s complete lack of interest in women and his scorn for Joe’s relationship with Olga. When Joe rejects the offer to help run Rico's empire and wanting out of the game, it culminates in a threatening ultimatum from the crime boss:

Rico: "You didn't quit. Nobody ever quit me. You're still in my gang, you got that? I don't care how many fancy skirts you've got hanging onto you, that Jane of yours can go hang. It's her that's made a softie out of you."

Joe: "You lay off Olga, Rico!"

Rico: "I ain't laying off her; I'm after her. One of us is gonna lose, and it ain't gonna be me. There's ways of stopping that dame."

This eventually leads to Rico drawing a gun on Joe. As he walks menacingly closer to his old partner, the camera closes in on Rico's face. His face is blurry and unfocused. Symbolic with the doubt in Rico's mind. For the first time ever, Caesar fails to pull the trigger. Thus, sealing his own doom.

For clarity, Olga is the one who goes squealing about McClure's murder to Sergeant Flaherty, causing Rico's gang to be apprehended. Therefore, Rico was essentially correct in disliking her; subtext or not. Rico instantly regrets not murdering Joe once the law give chase, "This is what I get for liking a guy too much."

More overt homoerotic subtext is present between Rico and his sycophantic right-hand man Otero. The mirror scene, where Otero assists Rico in dressing for his meeting with Big Boy, suggests a sexual act. Otero stood below Rico's groin, says much. 

After months of evading capture and without finances, Rico finds himself returning to the gutter from whence he came. He is no longer a teetotaller and is now a destitute drunk residing in a flophouse. From a person reading a newspaper aloud, he learns of Sam Vittori’s execution and a now promoted Lieutenant Flaherty’s denunciation of Rico of being a coward. This is an obvious ploy to lure the former crime boss out of hiding. It works. Rico’s conceited ego takes the bait. He telephones the lawman and is even more outraged by Flaherty’s verbal sparring. This provides sufficient time to trace the call and locate Rico.

Flaherty spots Rico next to a billboard, one which is poetically advertising Joe and Olga's dancing act. A defiant Rico won't give up and hides behind the sign. Armed with a tommy gun, Flaherty sprays the billboard with bullets, fatally wounding the criminal. Ever the narcissist, Rico's famous last words are spoken in third person (your humble host would never ever, dear reader) as if lifted from a newspaper headline, "Mother of mercy! Is this the end of Rico?"

Despite its somewhat rough edges, Little Caesar remains a compelling film largely due to Edward G. Robinson’s energetic performance. The actor’s distinctive, rapid delivery is particularly memorable. His confident swagger and Napoleon complex make Rico a highly alluring character. This is why Edward G. Robinson’s iconic portrayal of the character has left an indelible mark on popular culture.

Although Little Caesar may not have been the first gangster film, it established the narrative and template that subsequent films of its kind would follow. Consequently, some of its shortcomings are easily overlooked given its role in defining an entire subgenre in cinema. 

Recommended.

Free to watch on YouTube. 

Dada Debaser Note: 

Watched Little Caesar on New Year's Day, unaware it had just become a public domain film that same day.

A Million Bucks or Chunks of Meat?

Night of the Juggler (Robert Butler, Sidney J. Furie, 1980)

Robert Butler and Sidney J. Furie’s Night of the Juggler (1980) doesn't feature any juggling in it. Also, very little of it is set at night. What it is, however, is a tough, frenetic and very gritty crime thriller set in New York City during the late 1970s. Furthermore, it serves as a perfect snapshot of the urban metropolis and its people from this period, in a similar vain to The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974), Ms. 45 (1981) and Wild Style (1982). All films which also received the 4K UHD treatment this year. 

In the heart of New York City's Central Park, a teenage girl is snatched by ruthless psychopath, Gus Saltic (Cliff Gorman). He's set his sights on a million dollar ransom for the city that he believes has wronged him. He refused to acknowledge the young girl he has abducted is not the daughter of a rich property developer, but of blue-collared truck driver and former ex-cop Sean Boyd (James Brolin). Boyd will do anything in his power to rescue his daughter from Saltic, including facing off with various seedy lowlifes and a cop who harbours a personal vendetta against him.

James Brolin’s wild mountain man look—shaggy hair, bushy beard and plaid shirt—seems intentional, almost designed to set him apart from the New Yorkers portrayed in the film. But since Night of the Juggler was shot in 1978, just before he starred in The Amityville Horror (1979), where he looked and dressed almost the same, I’d say that was merely Brolin’s fashion sense back then. His character, Sean Boyd is introduced as a bit of a cheeky Jack the Lad in the film. His early scenes show him decapitating a poor rat with a paper guillotine, saving the office secretaries from anymore distress. Following that, he purchases three hot dogs for breakfast for himself and his young daughter, Kathy (Abby Bluestone). The tough living of father and daughter is really touching, establishing the bond between the pair before the event of the kidnapping.

Boyd is almost unstoppable as he desperately tries to get his daughter back. The chase scenes both on foot and on wheels are exciting and thrilling. In one sequence, a sympathetic cabbie, played by a young Mandy Patinkin, seems to be having a blast weaving through New York traffic with Boyd. His Latin accent is like a sneak peek to his most famous line from his filmography.

In another scene, Boyd searches for a possible clue to find Saltic in a seedy peep show. It's delivered with comic effect as the desperate man has to feed coins into a machine to question a naked dancer, played by none other than the famous pornographic actress Sharon Mitchell, to chase a possible lead. A scene reminiscent of the Frankie Goes To Hollywood sequence from Body Double (1984).

Cliff Gorman appears to be having the time of his life as a racist psychotic antagonist. An odious individual, nicknamed by the South Bronx locals as The Moleman because he lives below the ruins of his tenement and lurks in the sewers. Saltic mistakes Boyd's daughter for the child of a wealthy property developer who he blames for ruining his area:

"All the rich bastards lie. That's how they get rich and that's how they stay rich. They're not putting anything over on me because I'm wise to their tricks with their taxes and bullshit and all the little games they play so good, huh? They're all in it together, juggling the books. Well now they're gonna pay. Now I'm gonna be the juggler. I'm gonna juggle the books my way and it's gonna balance out to me." Gus Saltic.

Gorman’s performance is incredibly menacing and deeply unsettling. His opening scene is him sitting at a diner, transforming his breakfast into a face and then ruining it with heaps of ketchup. You don’t need to be a psychiatrist to realise he’s playing a complete nutter. Another wonderful detail about Gorman’s madman is his giggle, which is reminiscent of Renfield’s iconic laugh from Dracula (1931). 

Ironically, he would play a polar opposite character as a compassionate detective in the part after-school special, part sleazy crime thriller Angel (1984).    

Richard Castellano, best known for playing Clemenza in The Godfather (1972), portrays Lieutenant Tonelli, the typical world-weary cop, who is both helpful and a hindrance for Boyd. He even keeps Saltic in the dark about the fact that he has kidnapped the wrong girl. Every movie cop has a little quirk or something odd about them; Tonelli’s is the headache from his daughter’s wedding plans. He talks about it all the time in the film, even using it as an excuse to call home while he’s conducting a phone tap.

Dan Hedaya plays Sergeant Barnes, the crooked cop who’s got a grudge against Boyd. Boyd snitched on him and destroyed his life. Thus, Sgt Barnes acts as a secondary antagonist in the film, and is quite possibly almost as unstable as Saltic. He recklessly shoots at Boyd with a shotgun on the busy streets, even though there are civilians everywhere. Plus, when he finally catches Boyd, he shows how little he cares about his former colleague’s daughter by refusing to send the police to her recently discovered location.

Finally, Maria (Julie Carmen) is a beautiful clerk at the dog pound who assists in locating Saltic. She feels for Boyd’s plight and joins him in his search for Kathy. This decision adds a further obstacle to the mix: the local Latino gang, who are not happy with a "gringo" on their turf with a Butter Pecan Rican. 

Night of the Juggler, based on William P. McGivern’s 1976 bestseller, had a rather bumpy journey to the screen. James Brolin got hurt on a stunt prop, which left him with a limp and a plaster cast. Sidney J. Furie wasn’t happy with how things were going and left after filming about a third of the movie. Robert Butler then took over. Filming begun in the summer of 1978, yet the finished product would not be released until two years later. The fast-paced chase in the first act isn't repeated for the rest of the film. But don’t worry, there are still some amazing moments too, like Boyd’s final showdown with Saltic.

Lieutenant Tonelli’s constant complaints about his daughter’s wedding feel a bit forced and predictable. Thankfully, they are not annoying enough to be irritating.

Seargeant Barnes might seem a bit out there in the film, though. Having a secondary antagonist among all the other challenges Boyd has to overcome to find his daughter is a bit much. Still, Hedaya’s performance is really memorable, no matter what.

Night of the Juggler is a film that really has earned its cult following. It’s a fascinating blend of sleaze, violence and a delightful nod to unapologetic film making seldom made today. Plus, its reputation really took off as a title that wasn’t given a proper home on physical media, other than being only available on VHS. Thankfully, this changed thanks to Kino Lorber in the US and Radiance’s new Transmission imprint in the UK.

I really enjoyed this. It's essentially "What if Taken was a Seventies film?" It felt like a trip down memory lane and it truly lived up to its reputation, even with a few obvious flaws. Night of the Juggler will definitely find appreciation by anyone who loves gritty crime thrillers from the 1970s and early 1980s. It’s packed with a dark and cynical atmosphere and keeps you on the edge of your seat with genuine suspense and tension. I’d definitely recommend it.

There'll Be Masterpieces

Scarlet Street (Fritz Lang, 1945)

To distance myself from this year’s cinematic tripe, I sought a vintage film. A public domain title from a YouTube channel I subscribe to caught my eye; Fritz Lang’s film noir Scarlet Street (1945). There is a particular satisfaction in experiencing a film for the first time, especially one as old as Scarlet Street, which exceeds all expectations and predictions. Given the film’s focus on deception, it is ironic that it actually fooled me.

Chris Cross (Edward G. Robinson) is a middle-aged dreamer whose life feels unfulfilled. He would rather be a fine art painter than a cashier. His boss’s affair with a young woman further exacerbates his drudgery. He is also burdened by his domineering wife Adele (Rosalind Ivan) who idolises her late husband and is more interested in her radio show The Happy Household Hour. Returning home from a formal dinner party, Chris accidentally knocks out a mugger with his umbrella while rescuing Katherine ‘Kitty’ March (Joan Bennet*). Unbeknownst to Chris, the mugger is Kitty’s boyfriend Johnny Prince (Dan Duryea) who she conceals from him after persuading him not to report the attack to the police. Kitty presumes Chris is wealthy given his formal attire. She is also aware of his gullibility and sees potential in charming some money out of him. The hustle is set.

Edward G. Robinson portrays Chris Cross, a man experiencing a mid-life crisis, with remarkable authenticity. The character was already diminished to an impotent individual well before succumbing to the influence of Bennet’s femme fatale. His unhappy marriage has him reduced to doing all the domestic work in the home. To keep out of Adele's way, he's forced to do his weekend painting in the bathroom. In a notable scene, Chris is depicted wearing an impractical frilly apron as he carves liver for dinner. At that moment, Adele enters and interrogates him about his relationship with Kitty. Is his affair with Kitty rumbled? The camera zooms in on him as he stares at the knife in his hand. Robinson’s expression conveys the turmoil within his mind.

Similarly, Joan Bennet’s Kitty is another unfortunate individual; despite her deceitful nature she remains a victim. She is constantly abused by Johnny and her money is frequently stolen from her. Her appearance is merely a tool for her boyfriend to exploit on gullible men. Yet she is hopelessly in love with him, even addicted to his influence. Her cruel control over Chris is a reversal of her relationship with Johnny. Consequently, selling Chris’s lucrative paintings, even taking credit for them, highlights her indifference towards the hapless cashier. In the ultimate act of domination, when Chris asks her to paint her, she hands him a bottle of nail polish and raises her foot. “Paint me, Chris!" Obligingly, he stoops to one knee and paints her toes. Like a cat with cream, she declares “They’ll be masterpieces.” In that moment I both admired Joan Bennet’s performance and wished for a fitting consequence for her character.

Dan Duryea’s portrayal of Johnny Prince should not be underestimated. His dominance over Kitty and dependency on money completes the ménage à trois of deception. Kitty is thus a tool for him to exploit. However, he is intelligent enough to be aware that Chris is the golden goose in the love triangle. Without him there is no fancy pad, fast car and wads of cash. Duryea’s conman is a compelling character. Initially he pretends to be a boyfriend of Kitty’s friend Millie Ray (Margaret Lindsay) but Chris has his suspicions. These are proven correct when he encounters Kitty and Johnny in a loving embrace which effectively triggers the film’s chilling direction.

Scarlet Street was not the first adaptation of Georges de La Fouchardière’s 1929 novel La Chienne (translating to English as The Bitch). That honour would go to the French dramatist André Mouëzy-Éon’s 1930 stage play. Jean Renoir would adapt it for film the following year. Scarlet Street was a reunion for its three main actors and director, as they had all worked together the previous year on The Woman in the Window (1944). Scarlet Street shares many similarities with its earlier French counterpart, although it had to adhere to the Hays Code at the time. Consequently, the professions of its two con artists were made considerably more vague including Edward G. Robinson’s. The film was still banned in some states. Having recently watched Renoir’s film, I find Scarlet Street considerably superior. 

The subplot involving Adele’s first husband is a notable element of Renoir’s La Chienne that surpasses Lang’s remake. It is less awkwardly introduced in Renoir’s film. However, this is not sufficient reason to choose it over Scarlet Street. Lang’s film is superior in every other department; better direction, superior acting, beautifully photographed scenes and no jarring time jumps. Furthermore, Lang draws upon his German Expressionist roots in the final ten minutes, veering into psychological horror territory. This is surprisingly downbeat given the era and beyond the black comedy of Renoir's original. In conclusion, only the most pretentious of cinephiles would opt for La Chienne over Scarlet Street. The cinematic equivalent of someone preferring Bob Dylan’s All Along the Watchtower over Jimi Hendrix’s superior cover.

Scarlet Street is a highly engaging film noir from Fritz Lang. It shifts between comedy and melodrama at times before concluding in Poe-esque horror. A cautionary morality tale at its core, it features a particularly early scene where the superstitious Cross is the third to have his cigar lit with the same match. Despite crossing his fingers, it spells doom for all of Lang’s characters. While one might escape justice, no one escapes their fate. An excellent film.

 *Didn't realise Joan Bennet was Madame Blanc in Dario Argento's Suspiria (1977) until now.

Bad Meaning Good

Steppenwolf (Adilkhan Yerzhanov, 2024 / 2025) 

Not a film about the Rock band.

Like many out there, my ignorant knowledge of the former Soviet republic of Kazakhstan came from comedian Sacha Baron Coen's character Borat. Therefore, when Adilkhan Yerzhanov's nihilistic and violent post-western Steppenwolf (2024 / 2025) blipped its way onto my radar, I was more than just a little bit intrigued by it. Turns out Yerzhanov's film has its own sense of humour; one that is both dark and deadpan, peppered here and there amongst a brutal dystopian world.

The plot involves Tamara (Anna Starchenko), a woman with a stammer, looking for her missing son, Tamika. Her search leads to her nonchalantly walking into a violent gun battle between rural lawmen and rebels in a remote police precinct. During the bullet-ridden massacre, Tamara meets Brajyuk (Berik Aitzhanov), a police interrogator / torturer who agrees to help her for a price. The pair share a common objective, as the person linked to Tamika's abduction is also someone that Brajyuk has a personal vendetta with.

There's an interesting dynamic between the pair of protagonists. They're an obvious odd couple. Tamara comes across as an angelic like entity in Yerzhanov's hellscape. She's introduced with a religious painting falling from her wall while praying. Her son immediately goes missing after this scene. Tamara's timid and introverted disposition is starkly contrasted with the rough and coarse world she inhabits. An assault rife fails on multiple attempts when fired at her. Brajyuk, on the other hand, is almost the devil incarnate on occasions; an individual who appears stoic initially, but breaks out into childish dances at times. He is a cold-blooded killer, with almost no sense of honour. Brajyuk goes beyond the boundaries of conventional anti-hero territory to complete villain on occasions. Yet, their relationship is what makes this hellish road movie such compelling viewing. At the heart of this nihilistic and misanthropic film, is a quest for some semblance of humanity.

Particularly fond of the scene where Tamara musters the strength to cobble more than a few words together imploring for Brajyuk's help: "We need to find Timka, save him. He won't survive without me. They'll kill him. No one needs him. No one needs me. There's no good. I know it. I knew it all along. But it is necessary. Good is necessary. Please help. You're kind. Please help. Please...You're a kind person. Please help. We need to save Timka. You're kind. Aren't you? You are kind. Please help find Timka. Please." As the camera horizontally pans away from Tamara, it fixes on the contemplative Brajyuk. Her words seem to affect him. Alas, his response mockingly imitating her and laughing. And yet, for a split second, it's almost as if a shred of good was still lurking somewhere within his soul. Both actors' performances are exceptional.

The Kazakh Steppe is a striking location in this film. The arid region lends itself well to its dystopian setting. Along with Steppenwolf being shot in 2.39:1 aspect ratio, Yerkinbek Ptyraliyev's cinematography evokes classic westerns of the past. Those glorious widescreen shots of the natural vistas is inherent here. The morning mist over the grassy plains looks stunningly mystical.

Furthermore, some scenes take obvious inspiration from the western genre; notably, the iconic doorway scene of John Wayne walking away in John Ford's The Searchers (1956). That scene is referenced multiple times in Steppenwolf; even bookending the film. European westerns also wield their aesthetic influence on the film; particularly the framing and composition of Sergio Leone's westerns. Steppenwolf's handling of violence and male machismo is definitely evocative of Sam Peckinpah's work.

Bizarrely, Steppenwolf's soundtrack consists of effervescent sounding synthpop. Mixed feelings about this. Given the oppressive tone of the film and the gravitas of their shared task, I'm not sure this was the right choice. If anything, I got the impression Yerzhanov thought, "It worked with the couple in Nicholas Winding Refn's Drive (2011), why not try it here?" 

George Miller's Mad Max films are the most obvious influences, however. Given its desolate and cruel setting, you would be forgiven into thinking Steppenwolf's characters exist in a post-apocalypse. Life is cheap and dispensable. The morally bankrupt appear to reap the most chance of surviving in this world. If that's not enough, Brajyuk leather jacket is missing sleeve; an obvious reference to Max's wardrobe in Mad Max 2 (1981).

However, Steppenwolf does have some its faults. Its writing isn't quite up to par with the stunning visuals and palpable atmosphere. In fact, it becomes quite lacking in the final act of the film and relies heavily on its dystopian vibe and cool visuals; hence the pacing takes a hit and crawls to a much slower pace than what ought to be necessary. Character developments also kind of take a back seat. Thus, this section of the film is less Max Rockatansky and more Max Rockatarkovsky. Take for instance a scene involving Brajyuk meeting with his estranged father. Little is known of their past relationship, hence the resolution between the pair comes across as hollow and forgettable. The climactic battle with the regional gang boss / warlord feels rushed and anticlimactic. The old adage of the journey being more important than destination being taken far too literally by Yerzhanov. More importantly, without venturing into spoiler territory, the final scene between Tamara and Brajyuk is one that is both unsatisfying and bathetic.

Despite these issues, Steppenwolf is still a very good film, overall. One that I'm looking forward to revisiting again; possibly before the year is out. The type of late night genre mashup where you're not sure whether you actually watched it, or dreamt it. A tough, brutal and violent piece of cinema, yet still a beautiful and mesmerising viewing experience. Can definitely envision this becoming a modern cult film over the next few years.

Gesundheit!

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (Joseph Sargent, 1974)

Always found films more educational than the what was taught to me at school. John Sargent's cult classic crime thriller The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974), managed to teach me more about geography, history and sociology via the warm and comforting glow my parent's TV screen rather than any grotty school classroom. The film perfectly encapsulated my favourite era in American cinema, along with what's arguably its most photogenic city — New York City of the 1970s. The Taking of Pelham One Two Three would lovingly depict New Yorkers as direct, opinionated and completely sarcastic. These traits would perfectly compliment the the gritty, run down backdrops of the city at that time. Thus, to an outsider like myself, the urban grime of the Big Apple and its inhabitants, would come across as both extreme and fascinating to a young'un. Therefore, it's even more magical when a film like The Taking of Pelham One Two Three achieves a tensely kinetic crime caper, whilst simultaneously satirising and glorifying the fine city's inhabitants.

Adapted from John Godey's (a pseudonym of the author Morgan Freedgood) 1973 novel, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three revolves around the hijacking of a NYC subway train by four armed men wearing disguises. Using colour themed aliases that Quentin Tarantino would obviously be inspired by in Reservoir Dogs (1992), Mr. Blue (Robert Shaw), Mr. Green (Martin Balsam), Mr. Brown (Earl Hindman) and Mr. Grey (Hector Elizondo), take control of the Pelham 1-2-3 train, including its seventeen passengers and conductor as their hostages. Their demand is a one million dollar ransom within the hour, otherwise a hostage will be executed after every late minute. Thus, the respective authorities have little time to react, resolve and end this alarming situation.

Perhaps the most novel aspect about the film is its unlikely protagonist. We're introduced to New York City Transit Police Lieutenant Zachary Garber (Walter Matthau) sleeping on the job. He's immediately woken up from his slumber and tasked with being the tour guide for a group of Japanese transit envoys. It's not long until he's put through the ringer as the hostage negotiator. The casting in The Taking of Pelham One Two Three might be one of the most perfect selections to represent the grime-ridden and stagnant state of '70s NYC; practically everyone in it looks middle-aged, out of shape, poorly dressed and absolutely miserable, with the craggy Matthau being the pièce de résistance. His world-weary and sullen mug is complimented with one of the most horrendous fashion choices to grace a man, donning an awful chequered shirt and a bright yellow kipper tie beneath a school teacher blazer. And yet, he manages to shine as the negotiator during the hijacking, whilst also liaising with the police authorities and his cynical colleagues, all in a horrendously vomit coloured command centre. For much of the film, Matthau is stationed in one single location, and yet, his performance is so kinetic that it lends incredibly to all the film's fast and tense pacing.

Cutting through this vivid depiction of New York City and its cynical populace is our main antagonist, Robert Shaw's Mr. Blue. Shaw plays the part with his natural English accent, which makes him an obvious standout in the film. Mr. Blue is a complete professional. We learn he comes from a military background and was once a mercenary. A ruthless perfectionist, who has no qualms over shooting any of his hostages. However, there is a human side to this character which provides plenty of depth to him. His rapport with Martin Balsam's Mr. Green is friendly and warm; the complete opposite when dealing with Hector Elizondo's irksome hothead Mr. Grey. His intercom conversations with Garber are what really make the film shine. They're what make tensions even more palpable and occasionally leading to some cathartic jokes which lighten the mood.

Garber's intercom conversations with Mr. Blue will ultimately be the undoing of Balsam's Mr. Green, as he's riddled with a cold and very often sneezing in the background. Garber's "Gesundheit!" being the film's last word when he's eventually banged to rights.

Peter Stone's screenplay is razor sharp in its satire. The ludicrous audacity of a subway train being taken hostage is greeted with complete disbelief from all the authorities. Correll (Dick O'Neill), a transit supervisor and a complete thorn at Garber's side during the hostage negotiations, hilariously exclaims, "Screw the God damn passengers! What the hell did they expect for their lousy thirty-five cents; to live forever?"effectively summing up much of the film's cynical tone. An underrated highlight is the political exchange between the flu-ridden mayor and his deputy whilst they're debating over paying the ransom:

Deputy Mayor Warren LaSalle: You know what they're going to say. The Times is going to support you. The News is going to knock you. The Post will take both sides at the same time. The rich will support you, likewise the blacks, and the Puerto Ricans won't give a shit. So come on, Al, quit stalling!

 
Mayor: Will you stop bullying everybody, Warren? This is supposed to be a democracy!

 
Deputy Mayor Warren LaSalle: Wise up, for Christ's sake, we're trying to run a city, not a God damn democracy! Al, quit farting around; we've got to pay! 

The humour isn't just restricted to satire and cynicism, either. One of the hostages, a drunk woman, simply credited as 'The Drunk' completely sleeps throughout her entire ordeal. Mr. Blue declaring she'd be less of a bother while passed out. Amongst the other hostages is an undercover cop dressed as a hippie. His identity is not revealed until a gunfire shoot out whilst the criminals prepare to get away. Garber coming to the injured cop's aid with the hilarious, "We'll have an ambulance here in no time, miss. Everything's gonna be okay!". 

The final major highlight is unreservedly David Shire's bombastic score for The Taking of Pelham One Two Three. If ever a theme perfectly encompassed the urban grittiness of '70s New York City, it's his bone shaking drums and guttural horns which appear throughout as the leitmotif for the film's score. Ironically, the soundtrack was recorded in Los Angeles, I recently discovered in a bonus feature from the film's 4K UHD release. Other noteworthy tracks are the sample worthy Mini-Manhunt and the uptempo Money Montage which both vividly compliment key scenes from the film.

David Shire | Main Title

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three | Soundtrack | 1974 

Yet to see Joseph Sargent's 1983 horror anthology, Nightmares (how many horror flicks out there with that same title?), but The Taking of Pelham One Two Three is objectively better than the other three movies of his that I have seen; namely the sci-fi thriller The Forbin Project (1971), the biopic MacArthur (1977) and the dreadful Jaws: The Revenge (1987). In terms of New York's finest, it's right up there with the likes of Death Wish (1974) and Taxi Driver (1976) with its beautifully ugly aesthetic of a bygone era. More impotantly, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three truly represents NYC's multiethnic melting pot by unifying everyone in their cynicism and nihilism in having to live in such a broken and dilapidated city. As such, it's why the comedy works so perfectly in the midsts of being confined to a crime caper. It's also why a sour-faced Walter Mattheau thrives as the unlikely protagonist, and it's why I find myself rooting for Mr. Green as an underdog getting back at the system.

The film spawned two remakes: one a 1998 TV movie; the other, Tony Scott's 2009 film starring Denzel Washington and John Travolta. Sargent's original is unquestionably far superior than those films. Furthermore, it's one of cinema's greatest heist movies.

Guns Don't Kill People, Cowgirls Do

Gun Crazy (Joseph H. Lewis, 1950)

Went into Joseph H. Lewis's crime thriller largely oblivious to its prestigious film noir reputation. A status posthumously given long after its initial flop. Gun Crazy (AKA Deadly is the Female, 1950), a B-movie from gambling siblings turned film producers the King Brothers, would eventually be discovered by cinephiles as a subversive indie film that was ahead of its time. I honestly thought it was going to be more of an exploitation offering, along the lines of The Violent Years (1956), to be perfectly honest.

Preceding with the young, formative years of one Barton "Bart" Tare, Gun Crazy depicts various instances where the young lad has a more than keen obsession with guns. This unhealthy interest leads to him smashing the window of a gun store to steal a hand gun. Caught by the law, he's placed on trial. Both his sister and friends recollect moments where young Bart had an aversion for killing. From feeling repulsed with himself after shooting a chick with a bb gun, to refusing to kill a mountain lion caught in his sights at the behest of his friends. Nevertheless, the kid is sent to a reform school and subsequently joins the military teaching marksmanship.

Now an adult, Bart (John Dall) meets up with his old friends and they visit a travelling carnival. It's there where he meets trickshot cowgirl Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins). It's an instant attraction between the two. The sexual chemistry between the pair as they show off their gun skills, putting each other's lives at dangerous risk, is off the hook. For anyone with an above room temperature IQ, it's plainly obvious Annie is a nutcase and in the Danger Zone. Nevertheless, Bart briefly winds up working at the same carnival to be with Annie and to earn a dollar. It's there where the sideshow clown, Bluey Bluey, lays the most profound pearls of wisdom which go unnoticed by Bart:

Bluey Bluey: It's just that some guys are born smart about women and some guys are born dumb.

Bart Tare: Some guys are born clowns.

Bluey Bluey: You were born dumb. 

 

After the gun loving lovebirds quit the carnival life and get hitched, it's not long where Annie’s expensive tastes leave them hungry and broke. And thus, a series of robberies and heists turns the newlyweds into America's most wanted outlaws.

Adapted from MacKinlay Kantor's short story of the same name, the screen play would be given the script doctor treatment by the black listed communist Dalton Trumbo (credited as Millard Kaufman). Trumbo would turn Kantor's story into a Bonnie and Clyde style tale, laden with sexual symbolism and plenty of gun toting violence. What's also noteworthy about the film's writing is how it differentiates the two characters' codas despite their obvious love for firearms. Bart may be an expert crack shot, but is awkwardly uncomfortable in committing any potential harm to anyone throughout the story. Meanwhile, Annie lacks any real kind of moral compass to keep her head straight; killing anyone who might piss her off or obstruct her. Not only a femme fatale, but an actual psychopath. This obviously results in a destructive path for the pair. Utimately leading to a thrilling and surreal finale set around a misty swamp, which had me thinking the pair were in Heaven for a split second.

Other than its sexually suggestive content, which must have drawn some controversy for its time, what makes Gun Crazy so revolutionary are some of its innovative filming techniques. The most obvious being the incredible long take shot in the back seat of our protagonists' car, before and after a bank robbery. The scene was shot with a camera mounted on a horse saddle and moved on a greased plank of wood. A makeshift steady cam. The viewer becoming an unwitting accomplice to the off-screen robbery. This ingenious scene was a result of not having the budget nor the time to film inside a bank setting. A great example of the humble B-movie creating cinematic gold.

Perhaps an overly familiar crime saga seventy-five years later, but it did pave the way for other outlaw couples in film. Breathless (1960) by the French New Wave ponce Jean Luc Goddard is a notable example. Both films feature doomed love stories and film making innovations. I wonder if Peggy Cummins's beret was what sealed the deal for the overrated auteur. Jim McBride's superior 1983 remake would reference Gun Crazy by having its two lovebirds hide from the law inside a cinema screening the film noir.

Always feel compelled in rooting for the underdog in most films. In the case of Gun Crazy, it's not only applicable for its outlaw couple running from the law and their thrilling and tension filled heists, but it's also for its incredibly modern film making style. It definitely deserves its reputation for being ahead of its time. Therefore, Gun Crazy earns the Dada Debaser seal of approval.

Murder in Mind

Cure (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 1997)

The success of Jonathan Demme's The Silence of the Lambs (1991) set off a particular wave of psychological crime thrillers in the Nineties. The protagonists were often characterised with a mental hang up, such as a crippling trauma which needed to be overcome in order to finally take down the film's monstrous antagonist. These films were less action orientated and more adjacent to the horror genre. A major selling point was the killer's twisted methodology and his grotesque crimes. Kiyoshi Kurosawa's slow burner Cure (1997) is a stellar entry in this scene. The selling point being the killer supplanting  murder into the mind of others via his power of suggestion.

Tokyo detective Kenichi Takabe (Kōji Hashimoto) is tasked with investigating a string of murders which have plagued the city. The crimes are perpetrated by seemingly random people, who subsequently slash the carotid arteries, leaving a carved ‘X' on the victims’ necks. These actions are barely remembered by their assailants after they're caught. With the aid of Shin Sakuma (Tsuyoshi Ujiki), a hospital psychiatrist, the investigative pair make some headway discovering the random killings are brought upon by a hypnotist. The cool and calm Takabe also has to deal with his wife Fumie (Anna Nagakawa) succumbing to a deteriorating mental disorder. Both the case and his wife's illness are taking an immense toll on the detective.

As for Cure's heinous antagonist, Kunio Mamiya (Hasato Hagiwara), the dishevelled and mousy looking individual is introduced early in the film. A lost man on the beach, appearing to be suffering from amnesia when meeting his latest victim. With the aid of his lighter or spilt water, the drop out psychology student manages to hypnotise his prey before moving on. Thus, turning these random individuals who have had the misfortune in conversing with him into unwitting killers.

Despite some bloody scenes, Cure doesn't focus too long on the killings. Instead, it's the disturbing and uneasy build-up to these crimes which Kurosawa excels in capturing on film. One scene in particular, set outside a police box, shows the chilling act of a police officer gunning down his colleague so matter of factly. This is all filmed in daylight with one fixed point of view from a medium distance. The affect of which makes the whole scenario all the more disturbing, as it looks so mundane.

Cure possesses heaps of foreboding atmosphere thanks to an excellent combination of Tokushô Kikumura's gloomy and distant cinematography and a sound department able to make the drone of a tumble dryer sound oppressively frightening. Although preceding the J-horror boom by a couple of years, Cure's palpable atmosphere and pallid colour palette are arguably influential to the scene. The dark and flat visuals are pitch perfect with its subject matter. The production design of the various interior locations range from squalid, to urban hellholes. Thus, Cure shares some obvious common elements with David Fincher's Se7en (1995) not only with its premise.

Kurosawa has a great handle on showcasing Mamiya's power over others, not just with his hypnotic powers. The diminutive amnesiac can command a room with his sheer presence. A great example is the power struggle between him and Takabe in a darkly lit hospital room. During their scene, the antagonist manages to turn the tables as to has the greatest stature and command of the room. The camera composition frames the detective as the sick patient, while Mamiya slyly becomes the authoritarian figure.

Kind of shocked that Kiyoshi Kurosawa, a director associated with churning out low budget V-Cinema (Japan's straight-to-video) films like Door III (1996), managed to craft a gem of a cinematic thriller somewhere in between. Cure would be his belated break out success in international circles. The director would subsequently deliver the acclaimed, apocalyptic J-horror Pulse (2001), containing a similar look and under your skin vibe to Cure. A good film, but it's not one that I rate as highly compared to Cure; malevolent spirts from the internet don't exactly have the same impact for me as a serial killer Kenny Craig supplanting murderous thoughts into people's minds.

Embarrassed to admit that Cure is a new discovery for me. It's the type of psychological thriller that develops in a rich and intelligent fashion, without unfolding like some hackneyed police procedural which is so common today. A slow burn shocker that's so palpable, that it lingers on well after the closing credits; especially after that final scene. If you've seen it, then you know what I'm referring to. 

Highly recommended.