52 gioca o muori

By all accounts, 52 Pick-up is a nasty piece of cinema; a thriller that wholly benefits from Frankenheimer's direction, Elmore Leonard's characters and a hateful edge.

This is a movie that grabbed me fairly quickly and pulled me right in as Roy Scheider's industrialist had to outsmart his blackmailers. The players both behind and in front of the camera are expert, the plot turns are wicked and while the ending is ... unique ... this tawdry little crime movie delivers.

I must have passed this movie in my local video store a dozen times without picking it off the shelf, thinking from the packaging, the era the movie was released in, and the presence of Ann-Margret and Tiffany, that it was just another generic "action" movie like an 80s Stallone, or 'Action Jackson'. Luckily a savvy movie buff recommended '52 Pick-Up' to me, for which I will be forever indebted. Closer inspection reveals the team behind this hard boiled thriller to be underrated director John Frankenheimer ('The Manhurian Candidate', 'Seconds') and crime fiction master Elmore Leonard. (hits forehead! "WHY didn't I already KNOW this?!").

Apart from the aesthetic LOOK of this movie, and a cheesy score, it in no way resembles your standard 80s action fare. It is a lot grittier, morally ambiguous and less predictable than that, and closer to the best 70s crime movies.

Roy Scheider is solid as usual as a blackmailed businessman who decides to fight back, and Ann-Margaret surprises with a strong portrayal of betrayed wife. But the real stars here, and what makes this movie essential viewing, are the brilliantly realized bad guys - John Glover, Clarence Williams III and Robert Trebor.

Trebor is perfect as the slimy, nervous "weak link" Leo. Williams III stunning as the amoral bad ass killer Bobby. And John Glover is simply perfect as their double-crossing, deliciously evil leader Raimy. '52 Pick-Up' is brutal and rivetting viewing that shines out as a beacon of 70s cool from an ocean of 80s dumb thrillers. Don't miss this one whatever you do!!

52 Pick-Up is directed by John Frankenheimer and written by Elmore Leonard (adapting from his own novel) and John Steppling. It stars Roy Scheider, Ann-Margret, John Glover, Vanity, Clarence Williams III, Robert Trebor and Kelly Preston. Music is by Gary Chang and cinematography by Jost Vacano and Stephen Ramsey.

Successful business entrepreneur Harry Mitchell (Scheider) finds himself the victim of blackmail by three pornographers who have video evidence of his extramarital affair. With his wife about to embark on a new stage of her political career, the last thing Harry needs is a scandal, but when things take a turn for the worse Harry decides to use unorthodox methods to deal with the blackmailers.

A nifty neo-noir this, certainly deserving of being better known in neo- noir circles. The presence of Leonard at the writing table ensures that the story doesn't drift too far away from his own source material, though location is moved to L.A. as opposed to the Detroit of the novel. Thematic thrust centres around Mitchell being caught for his indiscretions and what the consequences of his actions means for all around him, quite often with devastating results.

Mitchell has to move about a seedy world of pornography, of cheap peekaboo bars, strip joints and snuff movies, he has to get to the level of his blackmailers so as to enact his plans with conviction. The three weasels played by Glover, Williams and Trebor are in turn slimy, menacing and a twitchy neurotic, an off-beat trio suitably framed by Frankenheimer's sleazy and cold world.

It may not be prime Frankenheimer but the director knows his noir onions, both in performances garnered from his strong cast and via his visual ticks. Characters are more often than not smoking or drinking liquor, sweating or looking pained as the camera gets up close and personal, the director even finds place for a bit of slatted shadow play in one sequence and menacing angled shards for another.

Some contrivances are more annoying than hindrances, it's a bit bloodless for a picture not lacking in action scenes, and although the finale is signposted without due care and attention, it is still sufficiently rewarding. Decadence, sleaze, greed, paranoia and moral decay come crashing together to create a sadly neglected piece of 1980s neo-noir. A yuppie revenger where there are no heroes, just sinners and victims. 7.5/10

And the moral of the story is... If you're an aging fairly well to do business-owner with a wife running for city council, might be a good idea to keep it in your pants. I mean, hey, thats what the porno theaters are for and all, right?

52 Pick Up is sleazy, practically X rated (I imagine it got edited down to an R) and would be an excessive neo noir, practically an exploitation flick with the grit it's spitting out, if not for Elmore Leonard being a cracker-jack master at s***bag sometimes-smart-but-also-stupid characters (you know, f-ups), and the delicious twists and turns this takes, which are ultimately all about how Mitchell (Scheider) manages to get the upper hand just enough to keep things moving his way.... Until it doesn't. And good God do John Glover and especially Clarence Williams III own their roles so complerely and make them equally terrifying and campy (Williams's squeaky voice, one for the ages, man).

There are some odd/off technical beats early on - maybe it was because I was seeing it on 35mm on a big screen, but certain tracking shots seemed ragged, and I dont know if that was by design or because Frankenheimer had a lax crew - and I can't shake that Ann-Margaret's character is too smart, or seems to be, to make some of the dumb choices she does at times. Like say, I dunno, leave the house for a while and don't stay where you know these dummy porn jackals will come by since they know where your husband lives - hell, he shouldve moved them out after the first video, but whatever, not a killer to the whole story. So moments like those where logic leaves for plot convenience aren't solid.

For all the illogic and flagrant disregard for good taste that this as (many real world porn stars appear, including Ron Jeremy), this is a helluva good movie because Frankenheimer understands what Leonard is going for: nobody here is exactly likeable, but it's more about watching how one guy will scheme with the other, and Scheider nearly becomes a Sanjuro among these three dangerous boobs. Not to mention on top of everything there is that 80s synth score that I believe is playing the Melodies of the Pile of Cocaine from Scarface. My only regret was not having a glass of scotch to go along with it.

(PS: .... Too bad we didnt get the denouemont where Ann-Margaret divorces his jazz-convertible self and takes him for everything he's got (I mean, you cheat on Ann friggin Margaret, youre lucky she doesnt beat you in the head with roller skates like Roller Girl in Boogie Nights, but I digress).

I've only read one of Leonard's crime novels and it didn't impress me much with its style. The guy writes as if he's producing a technical manual with people instead of parts. But the plot was interesting and dense, as it is in this movie.

Roy Scheider never turns in a bad performance, and here his face is beginning to look comely and battered with time. He's also from Orange, New Jersey, which is a good place to start from. Scheider is Harry, a morally flawed businessman with a mechanical bent. Ann-Margaret is breathtakingly good looking, and her performance is exceptional. The same could be said of Vanity, but her part is rather small. The villains are all superb. John Glover is a delight to watch on screen -- and to listen to -- with that slimy smile and midlands Maryland accent that descends into working-class vulgar when the situation calls for it. He's the kind of villain who would enjoy pulling hooks out of fish. He and Scheider played well off one another in "The Last Embrace." Clarence Williams is a sort of doggedly cunning and brutal muscleman, done quietly but effectively.

There's something oddly amusing about Williams' villainy. After Scheider and Ann-Margaret have clobbered him following a botched murder attempt (a little hard to believe), he sits in a chair having his picture taken while Scheider implants in his mind a few seeds of doubt about the probity of his partners in crime. An expression of dumb comprehension creeps slowly over his face and his eyes squint over his bleeding nose.

Robert Trebor (terrific name, by the way, a palindrome) gives a nearly perfect imitation of a guy who is a sweating, shaking, desperately twitching nervous wreck, but still with his eye pinned on profit and, mostly, survival. What a trio of villains.

The plot is, as I say, dense, but not difficult to follow. The story is in a style that Northrop Frye called low mimetic: Scheider is no hero, and in fact no better than the rest of us. That's what makes his outwitting of the trio so interesting. Frankenheimer's direction is fine, no flashy shots or dazzling fireworks. The story pulls a viewer along on its own terms. Not a masterpiece, but a cleverly done genre piece, it's worth seeing. Can't imagine why people flock to schlock while a movie like this goes by mostly unnoticed.