Messenger asks a friend to check into a list of names before leaving on a trip. When his plane is blown out of the sky, the matter becomes more serious. As his friend checks into the list, ... See full summary »
George C. Scott
An undercover state cop who has infiltrated an Irish gang and a mole in the police force working for the same mob race to track down and identify each other before being exposed to the enemy, after both sides realize their outfit has a rat.
Tony Rome, a tough Miami PI living on a houseboat, is hired by a local millionaire to find jewelry stolen from his daughter, and in the process has several encounters with local hoods as well as the Miami Beach PD.
Jill St. John,
San Francisco Police Lieutenant Virgil Tibbs is called in to investigate when a liberal street preacher and political candidate is accused of murdering a prostitute. Tibbs is also battling ... See full summary »
Supposedly based on the short story by Ernest Hemingway. In this film noir, two hitmen want to find out why their latest victim (a race car driver!) "just stood there and took it" when they came to shoot him. Ronald Reagan plays a rich, double-crossing bad guy. A young Angie Dickinson (looking just like Ellen Barkin) plays the femme fatale. Written by
Mark Logan <email@example.com>
Although most of the staff and many of the students in the blind school are sight-impaired, all informational signs, names on doors and room numbers are painted, with no accompanying braille information. See more »
The pleasure I take from this movie is strange. It's not as though, by completing The Killers, Don Siegel had served out and discharged his apprenticeship to film noir because he would return to it for inspiration in Charley Varrick, but as though by being allowed to direct not just a film noir made for TV starring frontpage names like Lee Marvin and Angie Dickinson and John Cassavetes but a film noir violent enough to never be shown on it and which in time received its own theatrical run, that he was permitted to cross some sort of Golgotha, which meant that by using the inverse process, by leaving out all those elements that made a dead serious noir a mostly campy affair, he could descend the opposite slope freewheeling. Now he was ready to make Charley Varrick because he had disaster to draw from.
For a strange reason, however, I get much pleasure from The Killers exactly because it's campy. I love the audacity of Don Siegel to superimpose John Cassavetes making-believe to drive a cart over real footage of Angie Dickinson actually driving one. It's like some sort of cosmic joker, foiled twice in playing a joke that wooshed over peoples' heads, now resorts to carnival sideshow barking. For some strange reason I even like the stilted dialogue and wooden delivery - this is not a slice of life, it's all scripted and acted out for make believe and you can see where the cartoonist's pen dotted the page with ink. Everything comes together in a pulpy comic strip way; the look is oversaturated TV, all the whites pushed up so that everything looks bright and vivid. It's not exactly suspenseful because what happens is given away in the first few minutes and we spend the rest of the film asking the reason, the incomprehensible vindictive motive, and it's not exactly filled with alarm or even rage even though it' violent enough for its time, but with rather a warm sense of comfort. The bad guys are slimy, the femme fatale has enough of both femme and fatale in her, the good guy is the hapless schmuck caught in the web; Lee Marvin and his sidekick kind of hover above everything else, beating people and being cool in nice suits and shades. Lee Marvin wonders why the guy they were paid to kill didn't run to save his life; why the fatalism? At some point the answer comes to him but it's out of thin air, almost presented to him so that the movie can proceed with the pulp; so that feels scripted too and it makes sense. Lee Marvin wouldn't trouble himself with any such thing. He has the 25 grand to buy the nice suits and cool shades.
The Killers is all forward motion, even when it moves backwards in flashbacks and rolls down on floors with Angie Dickinson or takes time out to drive racing cars, rocking heavily as it does. In the end the movie dukes it out with itself inside a house in the suburbs, and out comes Lee Marvin staggering with a briefcase full of money on the frontlawn. It's great the way he does and he did it again in Point Blank but that was a different kind of movie. This is pure pulp fiction.
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