Suffused with a sense of twilight melancholy and pre-millennial nostalgia, John Frankenheimer's end-of-career genre masterwork Ronin is an unapologetic old-fashioned caper playing as the perfect reaction to a formally ubiquitous genre, the Cold War-era espionage Euro-thriller. The film savours a haunting final gasp just prior to being downsized by 21st-century Bourne-driven techno-overload and an onslaught of bloodless PG-13 CGI spectacles. It shows the talent of Frankenheimer that he manages to take what is essentially a rather one-note often contrived story and turn it into something truly special, approaching the material with seriousness, commitment and professionalism. Lean, sleek, spare, almost minimalist; it's like watching the revival of a forgotten art form. The fact that it's done with a minimum of special effects makes it all the more stirring, a tribute to the film's earnestness that we can overlook most of its absurdities and simply revel in its deeds. Elevated by its talent in front and behind the camera, the winning combination of Robert De Niro and Jean Reno imbues the film with a likeable brothers-in-arms chemistry that sees the duo at the peak of their prowess; while Robert Fraisse's photography and Elia Cmiral's score construct a believable and lived-in atmosphere of hyperrealism. Carried by a style that's fast, furious and impeccably paced, at the time of release, Ronin might have seemed like an efficient vehicle, nowadays it's more akin to a classic car, one with exceptional class you won't find in most automobiles today.
