Across 110th Street (1972)

          This gritty crime picture crams a dizzying number of characters, storylines, and themes into 102 frenetic minutes. Ostensibly a police thriller about two mismatched detectives investigating a Mafia-related shooting in Harlem, the racially charged movie also devotes considerable screen time to infighting among criminals. Based on a novel by Wally Ferris and written for the screen by Luther Davis, the film does a great job of taking viewers inside the minds of hoodlums, thereby conveying a morally gray picture of life in the big city. However, because the detectives are the lead characters, the potential impact of this humanistic approach to criminality is dulled—it’s hard for viewers to know whether they’re being asked to root for the heroes, the villains, both, or neither. In short, Across 110th Street has great texture but lacks a clear point of view.

          When the movie begins, black street crooks deliver a cash payoff to white Mafia lieutenants in a dingy Harlem apartment. Then uniformed police offers “raid” the apartment—but it turns out the cops are robbers in disguise. The theft goes smoothly until a crook reaches for a gun, at which point the lead robber, Jim Harris (Paul Benjamin), gets trigger-happy. Jim and his two partners, Joe (Ed Bernard) and Henry (Antonio Fargas), escape with the Mafia’s cash, leaving a pile of bodies behind.

          Two factions respond to the incident. The first is the Mob, represented by Nick D’Salvo (Anthony Franciosa), a godfather-in-waiting who’s reached middle age without proving himself; Nick becomes obsessed with killing the robbers in order elevate his standing. Also responding is the NYPD, specifically a veteran white cop named Capt. Mattelli (Anthony Quinn) and a younger black cop named Lt. Pope (Yaphet Kotto). Mattelli wants to handle the investigation his usual way (abuse informants until secrets are spilled), but Pope—who is given jurisdiction over the case for political reasons—wants to exercise post-Miranda Act restraint.

          The most interesting material in this overstuffed movie concerns the disintegrating relationships between the robbers, who react in varied ways as pressure mounts for their capture. Benjamin commands the movie with a jittery, raging performance as a black man robbed of life choices by hard circumstance, so whenever he’s onscreen, the movie sizzles. And even when the storyline meanders, director Barry Shear and cinematographer Jack Priestley create a vivid sense of place with the use of grungy locations and verité-style shooting on New York streets. Across 110th Street is a mess, but it’s an interesting mess.

Across 110th Street: FUNKY

Mohammad, Messenger of God (1977)

          Also known as The Message, this historical epic about the creation of Islam is handsomely mounted but of little interest to anyone except true believers—while it’s not a bad film, per se, it’s so reverent that it provides far more detail than casual viewers might want, and far less insight than serious viewers would need to justify the investment of three hours. Mohammad, Messenger of Godalso has one of the most unusual storytelling problems in the history of religious cinema: Out of respect for a Muslim custom, Mohammad is never shown onscreen. As a result, Mohammad, Messenger of God is a biopic about a person we neither hear nor see. Thanks to producer-director Moustapha Akkad’s resourceful approach, this isn’t a fatal storytelling flaw—Akkad uses narration and scenes of characters addressing the unseen Mohammad to suggest the prophet’s presence. Yet the inability to depict the character around whom the story revolves raises legitimate questions about why Mohammad, Messenger of God is so long.

          In any event, this is a good-looking movie with impressive production values, and composer Maurice Jarre contributes a stirring score in the vein of the music he composed for another desert epic, Laurence of Arabia (1962). Set six centuries after Christ’s death, the movie begins with the illiterate Mohammad emerging from a spiritual retreat in the mountains outside Mecca. He returns to town having received a message from God, who has imbued Mohammad with the ability to read and write. Because Mecca is a major trading hub in which the worship of hundreds of gods is practiced, Mohammad’s message threatens powerful people including tribal leader Abu-Sofyan (Michael Ansara). Meanwhile, Mohammad gains charismatic supporters, including his uncle, Hamza (Anthony Quinn). For the first hour of the picture, Mohammad’s following increases even as the powers-that-be escalate their violent opposition to his teachings. Eventually, Mohammad leads his people on a 250-mile pilgrimage to find religious sanctuary until another message from God compels the group to reclaim Mecca.

          Although Mohammad, Messenger of God was clearly a labor of love for Akkad, the picture suffers from problems that often plague sincere religious movies. Actors don’t so much inhabit roles as pose in ornate period dress while reciting stilted dialogue that’s written in a faux-classical style. So, while some scenes are powerful, notably the willing conversion of a black slave to Islam despite great personal risk, the film is more educational in nature than entertaining. It’s also awkward that Quinn has top billing, even though he only appears (fleetingly) during the middle hour of the picture. Most of the heavy lifting is done by Ansara, whose sonorous speaking voice suits the role of a regal leader, and by Damien Thomas, who tries to imbue his characterization of Mohammad’s adopted son Zayd with sensitivity.

          Questions of whether Mohammad, Messenger of Godaccurately depicts events or fairly characterizes the nature of the Islamic faith are for others to explore, though it’s perhaps unsurprising that the U.S. release of the film sparked controversy. The fact that Lybian dictator Muammar Gaddafi bankrolled the film did not curry much favor in America, and a bloody siege on three buildings in Washington, D.C., by radicals who, among other things, demanded the destruction of Akkad’s movie further tainted the picture’s debut. The movie enjoyed a much warmer reception internationally, both in this English-language version and in an Arabic-language version that Akkad shot simultaneously.

Mohammad, Messenger of God: FUNKY

The Passage (1979)

          Yet another lurid adventure flick set in occupied Europe during World War II, The Passage is mildly fascinating for what it lacks—depth and restraint. The plot is so thin that it can be described in one sentence without excluding any significant details: Members of the French resistance ask a farmer living near the French-Spanish border to help an American scientist and his family reach safety while a psychotic SS officer chases after them. That’s the whole storyline, give or take a couple of incidental characters, and the preceding synopsis also describes nearly everything we learn about the characters. Especially considering that the script was written by a novelist adapting his own work—a gentleman named Bruce Nicolaysen—it’s astonishing to encounter a narrative this underdeveloped.

          Furthermore, director J. Lee Thompson, a veteran who by this point in his career seemed content cranking out mindless potboilers, lets actors do whatever the hell they want. In some cases, as with sexy supporting player Kay Lenz, this translates to bored non-acting, and in others, as with main villain Maclolm McDowell, the permissiveness results in outrageous over-acting. Alternating between bug-eyed malevolence and effeminate delicacy, McDowell presents something that’s not so much a performance as a compendium of bad-guy clichés; he’s entertaining in weird moments like his revelation of a swastika-festooned jockstrap, but it seems Thompson never asked McDowell to rein in his flamboyance.

          That said, The Passageis quite watchable if one accepts the movie on its trashy terms. The simplistic plot ensures clarity from beginning to end (notwithstanding the lack of a satisfactory explanation for the scientist’s importance), and Thompson fills the screen with energetic camerawork, nasty violence, and, thanks to Lenz, gratuitous nudity. It should also be noted that leading man Anthony Quinn, who plays the farmer, invests his scenes with macho angst, and that costar James Mason, as the scientist, elevates his scenes with crisp diction and plaintive facial expressions. (The cast also includes Christopher Lee, as a gypsy helping the fugitives, and Patricia Neal, as the scientist’s frail wife.) Even more noteworthy than any of the performances, however, is the gonzo finale, during which Thompson’s style briefly transforms from indifferent to insane—for a few strange moments, The Passage becomes a gory horror show. (Available as part of the MGM Limited Collection on Amazon.com)

The Passage: FUNKY

The Destructors (1974)

          A thriller without any real thrills, The Destructors is nonetheless quite watchable simply because of narrative economy, production values, and star power. Shot on location throughout picturesque Marseille and Paris, the movie zips along at a strong pace, throwing together an assassin, a drug dealer, and a pair of policemen in a plot filled with deception and intrigue. The film has enough beautiful women, fast cars, and shootouts at unusual locales for a James Bond flick, and its cast is topped by three big names: Michael Caine, James Mason, and Anthony Quinn. Plus, as photographed by the great British DP Douglas Slocombe, the movie is slick and occasionally beautiful, with scenes set at dusk featuring particularly interesting qualities of light. What’s missing? Well, that would be tension, of course.

           It’s hard to tell whether screenwriter Judd Bernard or director Robert Parrish dropped the ball, but whatever the case, The Destructors might be the politest movie ever made about killers. Nobody ever seems especially upset about being targeted for murder, and only Caine summons a smidgen of intensity during his most dangerous scenes. Still, if likeable actors and pretty locations are enough to make so-so romantic comedies palatable, can’t those qualities be enough to make a so-so thriller palatable?

          The story itself isn’t the problem, because the same narrative material treated with more passion could have rendered livelier results. Steve Ventura (Quinn), an American drug-enforcement agent stationed in Europe, decides to seek revenge for the murders of several colleagues by operatives of an aristocratic French drug kingpin, Jacques Brizzard (Mason). Acting on a sly tip from a French cop, Ventura hires jet-setting hit man John Deray (Caine)—who turns out to be an old friend of Ventura’s—to kill Brizzard. Deray then seduces Brizzard’s sexy daughter, Lucienne (Maureen Kerwin), as a way of gaining access to the highly protected criminal. Meanwhile, Ventura figures out a way to snare Brizzard legally, so he tries to call off the hit. Double-crosses and other twists ensue.

          Caine is great fun as Deray, all smiles during off-hours and all business when taking out victims—his handling of a rooftop hit is pricelessly nonchalant—and Mason is appropriately oily in his small part. However, Quinn is just awful, mugging and quipping his way through an amateurish performance. He’s not quite enough to sink the movie, though it sure seems as if that’s his goal. FYI, watch for former JFK speechwriter Pierre Salinger, in one of his only acting roles, playing an extended cameo as Ventura’s boss. (Available as part of the MGM Limited Collection on Amazon.com)

The Destructors: FUNKY

Deaf Smith & Johnny Ears (1973)

A terrible spaghetti Western that wastes a potentially interesting premise, Deaf Smith & Johnny Ears takes place in the Republic of Texas following the region’s breakaway from Mexico but prior to its annexation by America. The republic’s president, Sam Houston, sends one of his spies to squash a burgeoning rebellion, so the story is rife with possibilities for intrigue and sociopolitical commentary. Unfortunately, the filmmakers behind Deaf Smith & Johnny Ears opt for the usual Euro-Western bilge of offbeat buddy comedy and overwrought melodrama. The “heroes” at the center of the story are the spy, Erastus “Deaf” Smith (Anthony Quinn), and his slow-witted sidekick, Johnny Ears (Franco Nero). Quinn’s character is a deaf-mute, which raises all sorts of questions about how he functions in the world of espionage, and Johnny is such a hot-tempered dolt that it’s inconceivable he provides anything more useful to Deaf than companionship and occasional translation. Inordinate amounts of screen time get wasted on silly scenes featuring these two characters bickering with each other and/or getting into trouble, so they seem like the most easily distracted spies in cinema history. Exacerbating these storytelling flaws is the lack of a compelling villain, since the rebel leader the spies are sent to derail is a colorless nobody who has no personal connection to either main character. In fact, the only character beyond the titular duo given anything resembling a personality is a saloon whore named Susie (Pamela Tiffin), who screeches her way through an unconvincing romance with Johnny. As for the leads, Nero comes across like a childish nincompoop, and Quinn seems so concerned with looking sensitive—he’s introduced smelling a flower with an expression of poetic reverie on his face—that his entire performance feels like a desperate request for approval. Request denied.

Deaf Smith & Johnny Ears: LAME