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A smarter than average bank robber (Walter Matthau) robs a small town New Mexico bank that, unbeknownst to him, is holding $750,000 in mob money. The job goes terribly bad. Matthau’s wife and wheel woman (Jacqueline Scott), an accomplice, and several deputies are shot dead. When Matthau and his surviving accomplice (Andrew Robinson, the memorable Scorpio Killer in Dirty Harry) hear on TV that the robbers only got away with several thousand dollars, he susses out the massive shitstorm that is coming in the form of mob money man John Vernon and enforcer Joe Don Baker. Matthau has to figure out how to survive the ordeal.      

This is a competent and serviceable Don Siegel (Dirty Harry, Escape from Alcatraz) crime flick. The picture is no great shakes but it has its moments, and the cat-and-mouse machinations of the characters are compelling.  

The picture is also very very weird.

First, apparently, in the 70s, all you had to do to a woman to transform her to putty in your hands was rough them up a bit. Sure, 1960s James Bond could get away with it, but a majority of those women were play-acting for the post-coital kill, so, all’s fair. Not so the women of this flick. A slap or threat, and they positively melt. Times change.

Second, there are several actors who should not be kissing women in film. John Wayne is probably number one. Brad Pitt, with his blasé remove, is three.  Matthau has got to be number two. In this flick, he kisses his dead wife on the lips – twice – and then he beds a live woman (Vernon’s executive secretary, Felicia Farr). It’s hard to tell which woman was less enthralled. Matthau looks ridiculous and uncomfortable.

Last, has there ever been a luckier actor than Joe Don Baker? “Oh, so, you want me to be a quirky Southern tough guy who can exude jovial sarcasm followed immediately by swift violence?  I can do that.” And a career playing basically the same role – and playing it well – followed.

On Amazon Prime.       

In these sensitive times, I’ll risk observing that Rachel Ward was exceedingly attractive. In various states of undress, even more so.

So, a steamy semi remake of Out of the Past featuring an on-the run Ward, coveted by her jealous and obsessive boyfriend, sleazy LA fixer and club owner James Woods, who enlists recently cut NFL player Jeff Bridges to find and recover her for him … it has promise.

Alas, the smoldering Ward is the only good thing about this Taylor Hackford (An Officer and a Gentleman, Ray) dog.

Bridges does indeed find Ward. They fall in love and press the flesh in the steamy environs of Mexico.

So far, so good.

But soon, they are back in LA, propelling a paper-thin plot that lazily meshes real estate and political corruption, game-fixing, and blackmail.

Bridges is badly miscast as a jock. He is too effete for the role. Woods is working way too hard to do something with nothing, and everyone else is stock.

The script also calls for characters to do bizarre things. Case in point – Swoozie Kurtz is a legal secretary who meets Bridges briefly early on, is smitten, and on that connection alone, risks her life to help him gets files from her offices when he shows up out of nowhere later in the picture. Similarly, Alex Karras is a football conditioning coach who, after Bridges betrays Woods with Ward, comes down to Mexico to … bring her back forcibly, at gunpoint. Which means, by my estimation, even taking Bridges out of the equation, a ferry, a small plane and then a jet back to LAX, gun in hand.    

Worse, the score is cheezy tech crap that makes every scene feel like you’re watching 70s porn or at a sketchy massage studio.

Bad through and through, as the ending will attest, as if Hackford said, “Well, we need to wrap this turd up with more Rachel and the Phil Collins hit.”

I did read that after this film, Ward took a sabbatical to study acting. That tracks.   

John Cazale did five films and then tragically passed away from lung cancer. When you lament the early loss of a Phillip Seymour Hoffman, you at least have the comfort of a significant body of work, 60 plus films even in his too short life.

Cazale had 5. And not one was Pirate Radio.

The Godfather

The Godfather II

The Conversation

Dog Day Afternoon

The Deer Hunter

This documentary, available on Youtube and Tubi, remembers Cazale through the interviews of directors and actors who worked with him (Coppola, Lumet, DeNiro, Pacino, Hackman, Dreyfus) as well as Meryl Streep, who was his lover and co-star on his last picture, The Deer Hunter. We also get insights from character actors like Hoffman, Sam Rockwell, and Steve Buscemi, guys who are used to doing a lot with a little in terms of screen time.

A tight 40 minutes, the documentary is a taut and moving remembrance with specificity. Hoffman, Buscemi, and Rockwell are particularly incisive in highlighting certain choices Cazale made in pivotal scenes, and the observations of Coppola and Lumet on the “I’m not dumb, like everybody says” scene in Godfather II is fantastic. A really great watch.