52 gioca o muori

Lean, mean and explosively dangerous sordid thriller (with a noir vibe) by director John Frankenheimer and penned by gritty crime writer Elmore Leonard who's details plaster in an authentic charge. Roy Scheider's head-strong performance is creditability good and Ann-Margret favourably so. Where they play a married couple Harry and Barbara Mitchell, as their work commitments seems to come first in their decaying 22 years old marriage. What comes to blows is that Harry is having an affair and soon finds himself being blackmailed for it. Instead of giving in to the blackmailer's demands, he sorts out to play their games which lead him and his wife in to uncertain turmoil.

But in the end what makes the film are three prominent bad guys; John Glover (charismatically manipulative scumbag), Clarence Williams III (coldly intense) and Robert Trebor (seamlessly twitchy). Each adding their own distinguishable traits and clashing personalities that would go on to become their eventual downfalls, which Scheider's character perfectly sets out to achieve. As they soon turn on each other and watch as the tables are constantly turn in who's actually in control of the situation. Leonard's dedicated material is highly engrossing in its impulsive layout (no one is truly spared from its cruel and sleazy tone), and Frankenheimer's tough-as-nails direction is brisk, leering and intensely full-blooded in its conviction to the premise. Some set-pieces truly stand-out mixing morbidly uncomfortable humour with blaring violence.

Rounding off the cast you have a young Kelly Preston who's believably naïve and Vanity is palatable as one of the strippers working in the seedy LA backdrop. Also popping in are porn stars Ron Jeremy and Amber Lynn. Jost Vacano's burnish cinematography is on the spot, the editing is tidely spliced and Gary Chang's electrifying score packs a consuming rhythm.

Simply put this has got to be one of the best harrowing thrillers of the 80s (probably Cannon's most commendable production in its typical staples), that even harks back to the searing roughness of the benchmark 70s hard-boiled fodder.

Leonard's source material was used two years earlier in director J. Lee Thompson's middle east political thriller 'The Ambassador'.

Harry Mitchell (Roy Scheider) is a wealthy specialty manufacturer in L.A. with beautiful wife Barbara (Ann-Margret) running for city council. Hooded blackmailers with a video tape of Harry and his mistress Cini (Kelly Preston) want $105k. Harry has a cold relationship with his wife. Cini and her friend Doreen (Vanity) are porn strippers under the thumb of Alan Raimy (John Glover) and his underlings Bobby Shy (Clarence Williams III) and Leo Franks (Robert Trebor). Harry doesn't go to the cops but also refuses to pay. The situation escalates as Alan elevates the blackmail and demands. However Harry counters with negotiations and schemes which pitch the blackmailers against each other.

The three bad guys are terrific. There are some dark things going on in this movie. There is a snuff film of Cini. Vanity has a memorable stripper scene. She has a great line after Harry says her picture is a little dark. "That's me, honey." Roy Scheider is a little bit too cold and distant. He needs some more emotions. In a way, he is overpowered by the dark crazy villains because they are such compelling characters.

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.

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).

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