Dirty Harry (1971) review

 

DIRTY HARRY 1971

Clint Eastwood (Harry Callahan), Harry Guardino (Bresslar), Reni Santoni (Chico), John Vernon (The Mayor), Andy Robinson (Scorpio Killer), John Larch (Chief), John Mitchum (De Georgio)

Directed by Don Siegel

The Short Version: Clint Eastwood has been western heroes; then Italy turned him into a western anti-hero; and in 1971, that "nameless", hard bastard with a cool swagger was transplanted to a modern day setting. It's still the Wild West, but fought on streets of concrete and skyscrapers; and a .44 magnum, that would blow your head clean off. It's the maverick vs. the maniac in a film that produced four sequels, and multiplied countless imitations. If you've not seen it, now's a good time to feel lucky with DIRTY HARRY.

The city of San Francisco is gripped in fear after a serial killer calling himself Scorpio murders random victims till a ransom is met. Harry Callahan is a no-nonsense tough cop assigned to the case, but his superiors and a flawed legal system constantly impede his methods. Eventually capturing Scorpio after another brutal murder, the psychopath is let go on technicalities. He then goes about ruining Callahan's reputation before committing more indiscriminate crimes.

The progenitor of the 'Tough Cop' genre, and prototype for the modern day action hero is this riveting, intense thriller from director Don Siegel. Eastwood had already established himself as a superstar of the western genre; and now was branching out into the next phase of his lengthy career creating the character he's most often associated with.

Oddly enough, Eastwood had already played a character that was essentially a dry run for Harry Callahan in 1968s COOGAN'S BLUFF, also directed by Don Siegel. The tone was much lighter, and Eastwood's 'Tough Guy' cop is from Arizona as opposed to San Francisco. Despite some characteristic similarities, it was the '71 film that set this style of action picture in motion, and it remains a viscerally important film not just in Eastwood's oeuvre, but in cinema history. 

Clint Eastwood is fantastic in the role of Harry Callahan. He brings a cool swagger to this unorthodox, immeasurably honorable police detective who speaks his mind and occasionally lets his .44 magnum do the talking for him when the time arises. Eastwood might be a cop in a bustling metropolis, but his actions are straight out of the old west. Harry Callahan is a modern day cowboy; a reflection of his Leone gunslingers, but clean-shaven. With an aversion for street scum, Callahan is prone to play with his quarry in an effort to give him an excuse to shoot them dead; such is his famous speech giving a criminal a chance to reach for his weapon while gambling on whether Harry's gun has spent all six bullets. If some bank robbers had interrupted me and my lunch at Burger Den, I'd be a bit cranky, too.

Other actors were up for the role before Eastwood got it; which is odd considering he'd played a similar role in the aforementioned COOGAN'S BLUFF (1968). John Wayne and Steve McQueen were two to pass on the role. A few years later, Wayne would have a change of heart and star in his own 'Tough Cop' movie titled McQ (1974). All these years later, it would appear the stars were in perfect alignment for Eastwood obtaining this role.

Andy Robinson is absolutely terrifying as the Scorpio Killer. The actor was perfectly cast in this role of an unpredictable maniac who not only kills children, but taunts his victims and plays games with the police as they try to find him. Inspired by The Zodiac Killer, Robinson is a cunning, savagely evil bastard who takes delight in playing cat and mouse games with his pursuers; and even goes through the trouble of paying a man to beat him to a pulp so as to tarnish Callahan's career.

Three screenwriters are credited, and they all do a fantastic job speaking on a multitude of topics relating to the legal system, and the victims of said system. It's especially cognizant about giving us just enough details in getting to know our title hard-ass detective -- including why he's so "Dirty".

Lalo Schifrin's Hendrixian funk-rock score is one of the greats of gritty 70s cinema; and is likely just as influential in scores for 'Tough Cop' movies as DIRTY HARRY was for influencing other, similarly patterned films.

DIRTY HARRY is often linked to kicking off the 'Violent Cop' thrillers in Italy that began in the early 1970s with highly influential films like HIGH CRIME (1973) and a flood of similar pictures. Siegel's film inspired European producers to make their own versions that were frequently based on real life civic figures and scores of violent crimes those in Italy were living everyday. DIRTY HARRY itself was loosely based on real life crime, but the Italians made an art form out of it. Interestingly enough, the plot of MAGNUM FORCE (1973) mirrors that of the classic Steno film, LA POLIZIA RINGRAZI (1972), aka EXECUTION SQUAD released a year earlier.

Regarding the Italian variants, most of them were glaringly political; some of them rubbing your face in it much like Harry applying a size 12 compress to a leg wound. To this reviewer, DIRTY HARRY is less about politics than it is a modern day western. But since virtually no one can discuss this movie without bringing politics into it....

Some critics weren't all that impressed with HARRY upon its release amidst much controversy revolving around what they termed the films "right wing politics"; and tagging it as fascist -- the tried and true go-to label for leftists. They called it fascistic then, and they call it fascistic now. Fascism shares a great deal in common with communism -- government, or authoritative control over the populace. In the movie, Harry is constantly at odds with the AUTHORITATIVE system of law that, ironically, protects the guilty against the innocent. It is this authoritative system that he answers to. So exactly who is fascist here? Callahan is the common man. He doesn't live the high life. He's one step up from the proletariat, and his status on the social strata is who would be controlled by so-called fascists; and he's not the sort that can be bought, either.

According to left-leaning critics (which is most of them), Harry is fascist because he imposes his own law onto the criminal element; who have rights, too. No matter the severity of the crime, or if a life hangs in the balance, sentence is carried out in a court of law; and in the movies, just as in real life, sometimes the guilty goes free and the innocent suffer.

For example, there's a tense sequence where Scorpio has buried a young girl alive and gives the police a time limit to meet his demands before she dies. When Harry meets up with Scorpio (wearing a red ski mask), the sadist beats Harry up and decides he's going to let the girl die anyways. Harry gains the upper hand, stabs Scorpio in the leg, and chases him onto a football field. Pointing his gun at the killer, Harry asks where the girl is, to which Scorpio can only muster hysterically, "I HAVE RIGHTS" over and over again. So Harry applies pressure with his foot onto Scorpio's bloody leg wound. Later on, he's chastised for torturing the suspect(!) in addition to all sorts of minor details that end up working in the favor of the serial killing son of a bitch. Nevermind the prolonged torture of a girl whom was raped and buried in a well with limited oxygen.

It's worth mentioning that Feminists were naturally abhorred by this movie; despite the fact that in the film Harry tries desperately to save the above-mentioned woman that Scorpio had raped and buried alive.

"You're crazy if you think you've heard the last of this guy. He's gonna kill again.... because he likes it"; with that line, I would imagine leftist critics would make a connection that Harry was really talking about himself. To them, Harry is the villain while Scorpio, the sicko who utters lines like, "Hear me, old hag, I'm telling you to drive or I'll decorate this bus with your brains", would be called a victim of society; a poor soul not responsible for his actions.

Taking the unanimous amount of reviews that slam this movie for its right-wingedness, if you're a liberal, than most likely you will somehow find this a disturbing movie for its so-called scenes of police brutality; particularly in an age where the media (itself controlled by the left) is culpable in the spread of hatred and violence by propagandizing details before the truth ever comes out; or simply making up "facts" to suit a particular agenda. If you want to see a truly brutal, savage cop movie, then go watch something like BAD LIEUTENANT (1992). DIRTY HARRY is little more than a modern day cowboy flick dotted with pontifications on a judicial system that, like it or not, often works in favor of the bad guys.

Interestingly enough, the public sided with Harry (much like they did with Paul Kersey in DEATH WISH) and his free-wheeling approach to street cleaning (and rightly so), making his debut a box office smash that led to four more sequels between 1973 and 1988. Characters like Callahan are perfect representations of the types of heroes most people want to believe in, but seldom exist in real life. 

It's a safe bet that it would be difficult to make a movie like DIRTY HARRY in today's oppressively political environment -- what with the PC police ruthlessly monitoring, and shutting down any and everything deemed hurtful, or offensive to their view of society; and that, my friends, is fascism at its finest.

This review is representative of the Warner Brothers DVD.

The Alamo (1960) review

THE ALAMO 1960

John Wayne (Colonel David Crockett), Richard Widmark (Jim Bowie), Laurence Harvey (Colonel William Travis), Frankie Avalon (Smitty), Patrick Wayne (Captain James Butler Bonham), Linda Cristal (Graciela), Richard Boone (Sam Houston), Joan O'Brien (Sue Dickinson), Chill Wills (Beekeeper), Joseph Calleia (Juan Seguin), Ken Curtis (Captain Almeron Dickinson), Carlos Arruza (Lieutenant Reyes), Jester Hairston (Jethro), Ruben Padillo (Generalissimo Santa Anna)

Directed by John Wayne

The Short Version: The battle for a free and independent Texas from tyranny is captured in grandly opulent style via John Wayne's astonishingly adept direction. Nearly every frame screams epic culminating in a surprisingly bloody finish that explodes onscreen. Packed with big names, larger than life characters and patriotic speeches, THE ALAMO is as big and boisterous as Texas itself, and as purely American of a film as you're gonna get.

"Republic. I like the sound of the word. Means people can live free. Talk free. Go or come, buy or sell, be drunk or sober, however they choose. Some words give ya' a feeling. Republic is one of those words that makes me tight in the throat. Same tightness a man gets when his baby take his first step, or his first baby shaves, makes his first sound like a man. Some words can give ya' a feeling that make your heart warm. Republic is one of those words." -- one of the numerous patriotic speeches heard throughout THE ALAMO (1960).

The time is 1836. Texas is under Mexican rule. General Sam Houston, in the hopes of building a strong military force to repel the tyrannical Generalissimo Santa Anna, entrusts Colonel William Travis with leading a stand at the Alamo, a former mission. Knowing greater numbers are needed to defend the fort, Travis seeks out volunteers to fight for Texas's independence; these include Colonel David Crockett and Jim Bowie. With approximately 190 brave men against an army of thousands, the Battle of the Alamo was soon to begin.  

John Wayne made his directorial debut with this massive $12,000,000 epic (sources say the final tally was $14,000,000) about the events leading up to the Battle of the Alamo, and the resultant skirmish. Factual in places, and fictional in others, historical sticklers may be irked at some of the events that are rearranged, or highly dramatized; it makes for a fantastic entertainment just the same; and at 162 minutes, that's a lot of bang for your buck. Fifteen years in the making, filming began in September of 1959, lasting 83 days, wrapping up in December. Director Wayne did an impressive job directing himself and countless others; especially for an actor stepping behind the camera for the first time, and it being such a massive production.

Just like Texas, everything is big in THE ALAMO (1960). The main set designed by Chatto Rodriquez is meticulous down to the most minute of details; this including miles of horse corrals and water lines. The final assault on the Texas landmark lasts approximately 15 minutes, and it's edited exceptionally well with a mounting tension and encroaching sense of hopelessness the closer the vast Mexican forces get to the fort. Wayne's epic clicked with this reviewer in another way -- it recalled themes populating the movies of one of my favorite Asian directors.

Hong Kong's godfather of action cinema, Chang Cheh, and his colleague Cheng Kang must have been fans of this movie (or John Wayne in general), and others like it. Some of their own epics contain sequences that feel like homages to THE ALAMO. Hong Kong movies, particularly those from the Shaw Brothers, were hugely influenced by Hollywood pictures of this era. John Wayne was an especially epochal figure in that part of the world. The scene where Crockett, Bowie and their men sneak into the Mexican encampment to steal food is reminiscent of a similar scene in Cheng Kang's sprawling classic THE 14 AMAZONS (1972). 

The valor displayed by the heroes at the end -- facing insurmountable odds, and an assured death became a staple of Chang's films; and one in which he magnified ten-fold with over the top violence and bloodshed. 

For a 1960 production, the battle at the title mission is unexpectedly grim replete with men trampled by horses, blown up, or impaled on swords and bayonets. William H. Clothier's photography captures this gorily glorious last stand from every angle imaginable. As the battle reaches its apex, and the heroes numbers dwindle further, the screen fills with more violence, more Mexican soldiers as they finally manage to overrun the Alamo. Dimitri Tiomkin's music soars throughout, reaching its crescendo with the last two acts of courage that end with gruesome finality. The extremely busy poster design from the amazing Reynold Brown is visualized to perfection in Wayne's movie.

The handful of patriotic speeches permeating THE ALAMO were utilized in a similar fashion in Chang's work, too. John Wayne, Laurence Harvey, and Richard Boone (in an extended cameo) all give macho, jingoistic oration centered around freedom from oppression; in this case, despotism wrought by Santa Anna. In Chang's work, there was usually always at least one chest-thumping address minutes before the good guys went to their doom. This strong element of nationalism extends to the concept of 'one against many'. In Wayne's movie, this small band of warriors know death awaits them, but they prefer to stand for something than die for nothing. 

Much like the true story of the Alamo, and the woefully one-sided odds, Chang Cheh did a similar picture that was also based on a true story; even down to duplicating how some of the heroes die. Titled SEVEN MAN ARMY (1976), the titular seven were tasked with defending a lone fortress from relentless waves of Japanese and Mongolian forces for seven days and nights before fatigue and loss of resources spelled doom for the heroes. 

Machoism is the glue that holds THE ALAMO (and other John Wayne pictures) together. Respect and admiration among men finds its way into the script, sometimes from the unlikeliest of places; and Wayne projects this onto the Silver Screen. For example, the Mexicans aren't perceived as bloodthirsty animals. There's no question they are the villains, but in a surprise move, Santa Anna and his army are afforded some noble qualities. Despite this enemy out to kill them, the Alamo fighters feel reverence for the bravery of their attackers, and this comes through in some of the dialog exchanges.

The women, too, are unusually strong considering the western is most often seen as a masculine landscape. Some of the female characters are just as stoic and stubborn as the men. The script covers so many bases. Hell, there's even discussion of the afterlife by the men just prior to the last stand at the Alamo.

Jethro, the slave to Jim Bowie, is given his freedom just before the big attack at the end. Bowie tells him there's no need to stay and die, but to get out and make a life for himself. In a show of loyalty and respect, Jethro decides to stay at the fort, and fight alongside Crockett, Bowie, and the rest. Wayne's movie taps into a humanist fellowship that stretches beyond race, sex, and borders.

 
THE ALAMO isn't all about bravery and jingoism. There's a healthy dose of humor in James Edward Grant's script. In fact, the picture is fairly light-hearted a good portion of the time. Much of this involves Wayne and his fighting Tennesseans. When Colonel Travis (Harvey) seeks out Colonel Crockett for volunteers against Santa Anna, he doesn't quite expect the burly drunkards he encounters. Both Crockett and Travis are very different men, and this extends to the third man in this arc, Jim Bowie. Both the unwaveringly serious Travis and the man named after the Bowie Knife regularly butt heads; which leaves Crockett as the voice of reason. Their first meeting is a doozy, and rife with quick-witted humor. Sources state that, ironically, Wayne and Richard Widmark had a very real rivalry going on during the filming, yet their camaraderie onscreen belies that. 

Laurence Harvey is quite possibly the most impressive of the three main leads. His Colonel Travis is Shakespeare if he were ever a military commander. Wholly unlikable, his integrity and valorous personality keep him in good stead with those he doesn't necessarily get along with. In virtually every scene he's in, Harvey oozes cool. He follows chain of command, but this is tinted with attitude, and he takes none. Easily one of the most memorable aspects of the picture.

Richard Widmark is Jim Bowie, lover of alcohol and a knack for battle strategy. He doesn't much like Travis, and Travis doesn't much like him. Bowie does things the opposite in nearly every way. Bowie is more of a rule-breaker than a rule-follower. And that leaves us with....

The big man himself, The Duke, John Wayne as the coonskin cap wearin' Tennessean rifleman, Davy Crockett. He's the most level-headed, fun-lovin' of this old west trifecta. Crockett's a learned man despite his roughhousing ways and spirited sense of humor. Wise beyond his years, his congeniality keeps the peace between Travis and Bowie. The Duke gets the best send-off at the end. It's quite a shock moment, but one that's not without one last act of heroism. 

Amidst all the manly posturing, there's time for some romance; or hints of it, more accurately. Love is in the air, but it's smell is evaporated by all the fightin', shootin', yellin' and heavy drinkin'. In particular is the attraction between "Mr. Tall American" and Graciela. Played by Linda Cristal, love interest of Charles Bronson in MR. MAJESTYK (1974), her scenes are played with elegance, even if there's no real chemistry between her and Wayne. She exits the picture about 70 minutes into the film. Since this is the TITANIC of westerns, we already know how it ends, and that there will be no lasting relationship between Davey Crockett and a beautiful Hispanic lady.

Over 40 years later, a remake of Wayne's classic was mounted. Initially with Ron Howard at the helm, the picture was to have been a bloodier affair with the intention of an 'R' rating. The studio balked at both the rating and the bloated budget. Some of the original cast backed out and Howard ended up producing instead. Much like the valiant souls that fought at the famed locale, the new film fell at the box office becoming one of the big all-time flops. Suffice to say, nobody remembers THE ALAMO remake from 2004. 

Packed with Hollywood heavyweights, John Wayne's THE ALAMO (1960) was a motion picture near and dear to the Duke's heart. He pulled it off admirably. Originally running over 200 minutes in length, it lost approximately 35 minutes for its wide release. It made $7,910,000 its first year in release, and a worldwide total in excess of 28,000,000. It was one of the top ten grossers for 1960. Additionally, it was nominated for seven academy awards (including Best Picture), and won for Best Sound. 

A picturesque and awe-inspiring story of frontiersmen seeking freedom from oppression, Wayne's THE ALAMO is a grand, entertaining epic filled to the rafters with grandiose elocutions and resplendent performances. The Europeans may have changed the face of the western in 1964, but they never replicated the wide-open splendor of such pure examples of old west Americana such as this. Bringing together a fantastic cast, it's a monumental production both in front of, and behind the screen. In the history of westerns, and or action cinema, always remember THE ALAMO (1960).

This review is representative of the MGM DVD.