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| Back when men were men, hats were flat, and cars painted egg cream. |
Everything about this movie feels like the 70s.
In “The French Connection,” Gene Hackman plays Popeye Doyle, a hard-nosed NYC cop, who sees the ends of arresting scumbag criminals as justifying his violent, hardly-legal means. His is an archetypal cop character, one we’ve seen countless times, in countless other films. Doyle sees the world in terms of black-and-white, good guys and bad guys. White people, and everyone else. He prefers to see himself as the former, even when he’s clearly sometimes the latter; he has no hesitation spouting racist slurs while rousting a barroom full of middle-class blacks (this film exists in a time before “African American” came into vogue).
Through dumb luck, he and his partner ("Jaws" hero Roy Scheider) stumble upon a potentially big heroin deal. A wealthy Frenchman (Fernando Rey) intends to supply the product, unless Doyle can bring the entire operation down first.
The film was directed by William Friedkin, whose next film would be the hugely influential “The Exorcist.”
Perhaps I saw this 30 years too late, but the story here feels like a pretty much by-the-book heist picture. Crooks try to sneak drugs past the cops, and avoid getting caught. Cops try desperately to track them down, at all costs. Chase scenes and shoot-outs. It all feels like well-worn territory.
At one point there’s an overly long scene, where the drugs are tested for purity. Maybe this felt cutting edge and interesting in the early 70s. To me, in 2013, it felt like it took an eternity for not much in the way of payoff. Likewise, the film devotes a large chunk of screen time to police mechanics tearing apart an old car, searching for drugs hidden in its body. The infinite crevices in which drugs might be hidden are kinda interesting, but the scene itself takes forever to unfold.
What I did like about the movie, however, was how it captured what an ex-girlfriend called “the dirty, pimpy New York of the 70s.” Before Giuliani’s Times Square clean-up. Where “nightclubs” featured live entertainment, tables all had candles in cheap, red glass holders, lapels were huge, men enjoyed hi-balls or on-the-rocks drinks, and women thought blue eye shadow, teased hair, and impossibly long nails looked good. Litter was every place. The film looks as gritty as its characters. Think the early NYC of Scorsese’s “Mean Streets” and “Taxi Driver.” Scenes of Doyle and his criminal targets on Manhattan’s streets show just how much that city has changed over the last 40 years. Cars, clothes, haircuts and shops all looks unbelievably different. The car-destruction scene wasn’t as interesting as the body shop in which it takes place. That greasy dump has atmosphere!
There’s a famous car chase in “French Connection,” where Doyle screams through crowded, narrow streets, while his “Frog” perp tries to escape on the elevated subway. It’s well filmed and tense, with Doyle racing through traffic and pedestrians, smashing into parked cars and trash cans, in hot pursuit.
Hackman (as well as his iconic hat) is as reliable as ever. Mid-way through, the movie seems headed toward its inevitable conclusion with reckless momentum. Supposedly it’s based on actual events.
“The French Connection” sounds like one of those important movies you’re supposed to see. The film was OK, but not as memorable as I’d hoped. Maybe it used to be? Perhaps it’s just that, by now I’ve simply seen way too many other crime films set in New York? If I’d never seen “The Godfather,” but instead “Goodfellas” first, would the former still hold up, or instead lose something by comparison?
I prefer the setting of "the French Connection" to its story. The era had more personality.
In “The French Connection,” Gene Hackman plays Popeye Doyle, a hard-nosed NYC cop, who sees the ends of arresting scumbag criminals as justifying his violent, hardly-legal means. His is an archetypal cop character, one we’ve seen countless times, in countless other films. Doyle sees the world in terms of black-and-white, good guys and bad guys. White people, and everyone else. He prefers to see himself as the former, even when he’s clearly sometimes the latter; he has no hesitation spouting racist slurs while rousting a barroom full of middle-class blacks (this film exists in a time before “African American” came into vogue).
Through dumb luck, he and his partner ("Jaws" hero Roy Scheider) stumble upon a potentially big heroin deal. A wealthy Frenchman (Fernando Rey) intends to supply the product, unless Doyle can bring the entire operation down first.
The film was directed by William Friedkin, whose next film would be the hugely influential “The Exorcist.”
Perhaps I saw this 30 years too late, but the story here feels like a pretty much by-the-book heist picture. Crooks try to sneak drugs past the cops, and avoid getting caught. Cops try desperately to track them down, at all costs. Chase scenes and shoot-outs. It all feels like well-worn territory.
At one point there’s an overly long scene, where the drugs are tested for purity. Maybe this felt cutting edge and interesting in the early 70s. To me, in 2013, it felt like it took an eternity for not much in the way of payoff. Likewise, the film devotes a large chunk of screen time to police mechanics tearing apart an old car, searching for drugs hidden in its body. The infinite crevices in which drugs might be hidden are kinda interesting, but the scene itself takes forever to unfold.
What I did like about the movie, however, was how it captured what an ex-girlfriend called “the dirty, pimpy New York of the 70s.” Before Giuliani’s Times Square clean-up. Where “nightclubs” featured live entertainment, tables all had candles in cheap, red glass holders, lapels were huge, men enjoyed hi-balls or on-the-rocks drinks, and women thought blue eye shadow, teased hair, and impossibly long nails looked good. Litter was every place. The film looks as gritty as its characters. Think the early NYC of Scorsese’s “Mean Streets” and “Taxi Driver.” Scenes of Doyle and his criminal targets on Manhattan’s streets show just how much that city has changed over the last 40 years. Cars, clothes, haircuts and shops all looks unbelievably different. The car-destruction scene wasn’t as interesting as the body shop in which it takes place. That greasy dump has atmosphere!
There’s a famous car chase in “French Connection,” where Doyle screams through crowded, narrow streets, while his “Frog” perp tries to escape on the elevated subway. It’s well filmed and tense, with Doyle racing through traffic and pedestrians, smashing into parked cars and trash cans, in hot pursuit.
Hackman (as well as his iconic hat) is as reliable as ever. Mid-way through, the movie seems headed toward its inevitable conclusion with reckless momentum. Supposedly it’s based on actual events.
“The French Connection” sounds like one of those important movies you’re supposed to see. The film was OK, but not as memorable as I’d hoped. Maybe it used to be? Perhaps it’s just that, by now I’ve simply seen way too many other crime films set in New York? If I’d never seen “The Godfather,” but instead “Goodfellas” first, would the former still hold up, or instead lose something by comparison?
I prefer the setting of "the French Connection" to its story. The era had more personality.
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