The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974)

Being a movie enthusiast (I’ve always disliked the term “film buff”; that sounds as if I’m assembling model planes in the garage) requires, like anything else, dedication that isn’t immediately apparent to those on the sidelines. It takes a bit of time to be able to bore a girl at the coffee shop (that is unless you actually MAKE movies, then the tables are turned). I loved what Quentin Tarantino said, I think, in a commentary track for True Romance, filmmakers have their films, movie enthusiasts, or geeks, have their knowledge, which, if I may add, they defend with the fervor of a knight approaching his joust.

Movie geeks, assuming I rate as one and can comment, go through stages of intense consumption of genres and filmmakers, suddenly they need to know everything they can find about X, preferably before the week ends. That task is impossible of course, no one knows everything about everything, or anything, but that quest stands as the constant, elusive windmill of the movie geek, particularly a movie geek in his twenties, an age group that has its demands of insecure pursuit of self-improvement anyway, regardless of target interest.

My recent insecure pursuits of self-improvement have been Jean-Luc Godard, motivated by the recent release of Pierrot le fou; Ridley Scott, inspired by the recent Blade Runner, and crime/noir in general, aided immeasurably by the wonderful boxed sets produced by TCM (and thank whomever you believe in for TCM, have you watched AMC lately? Spike TV plays more legitimate films these days).

Here’s a recent example of my crime/noir investigation: I watched a very slim, dangerous, terrific Lawrence Tierney in Dillinger and Born to Kill, which prompted yet another viewing of Reservoir Dogs (been on a Tarantino bender lately too, as you no doubt guessed). The criminals of Reservoir Dogs‘ use of colors as aliases reminded me, alas, that I had never seen The Taking of Pelham One Two Three.

This brings us to the proper point of this post. The Taking of Pelham One Two Three is a heist picture set in New York in which four hoods decide to steal the titular subway train. The hoods, with refreshing lack of pomp and circumstance, take over the train, disconnect it, keep eighteen of the passengers as hostages, and radio back to the station demanding that they be given one million dollars in non-sequential bills for their trouble. If the City of New York doesn’t comply, then the passengers will be executed, one for every minute over the hour deadline.

We know how this picture works. The good guys huff and puff, and try to stall the bad guys. The bad guys, cool, collected and merciless, hold tough on their specifications. Most of the good guys are clueless baboons, with the exception of the First Star, just as most of bad guys are vicious, clueless hotheads, with the exception being, of course, the Second Star. But we can’t make that deadline, the good guys usually say. Then everyone’s going to die, the bad guys usually counter.

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three is as pulpy and crude as it sounds, and thirty years of rip-offs haven’t increased its novelty. For awhile, the irritating, ceaseless Neil Simon-ish back and forth threatens to steer the viewer’s sympathies toward the psychopath of the piece, Mr. Blue. Mr. Blue may be attempting something unforgivable, but, at least he doesn’t assert his clichéd New York lout entitlement every second of the picture. For one thing, he’s British, which would probably make him suspect enough for the majority of the occupants of the subway control station, whom we’re supposed to be rooting for.

Saving us from ironically cheering immorality is Walter Matthau, whose contributions to this film should not be under-estimated. I hear that Tony Scott is preparing a remake with (who else?) Denzel Washington. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Denzel can be a terrific actor but, by this point, he might as well be Superman. We don’t look at Denzel and wonder whether he was able to pay his taxes last year, or if he had trouble getting coffee stains out of his blazer (that he probably wears to work everyday). We don’t look at Denzel and hope that he’s able to make his alimony payment this month. We look at Denzel and we say “that’s a fucking bad ass.” And that’s perfect for certain pictures, you’ll never hear me saying that Walter Matthau should’ve played Denzel’s part in Training Day, but in The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, Walter Matthau is perfect. Tony Scott should cast Paul Giamatti in the Matthau part, that would show that he understands (or cares about) the material that he’s remaking.

We root for Walter Matthau because Walter Matthau doesn’t belong; he isn’t the guy that we imagine handling a ruthless hostage imbroglio. He’s the guy that sneaks a beer at lunch, or is entrusted with thankless chores such as giving a tour of the station to a group of Japanese visitors. He, like us, just wants to get. the. fuck. along. But then Mr. Blue, embodied by an intimidating, classic Robert Shaw, happens to screw everything up.

The film carries on exactly as you expect from there. Director Joseph Sargent doesn’t seem to have much in the way of finesse, but he at least has the good manners to move things along at an urgent clip so that you don’t notice too much. The script is showy and irritating, but that’s all forgotten when Shaw or Matthau are on the screen. These two icons lend the final showdown a human gravity that drives the thing into the realm of true suspense; you’re authentically afraid for the undeniably vulnerable, human, Matthau as he delves down into the subway to find Shaw, who has a wonderful, chilling, unexpectedly curt exit.

Actually, Denzel’s intimidating, suffer no fools bravado/resentment could make for a credible Mr. Blue opposite a hunched, self-loathing Paul Giamatti. Though I will have to cross-reference thirty or forty various Tony Scott, Joseph Sargent, Paul Giamatti, Robert Shaw and Walter Matthau offerings and get back to you before I can safely commit to that line of thinking.

★★★

Posted on February 26th, 2008 in Reviews, Thriller, 1974 |

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