The Killer Elite (75, Sam Peckinpah)

This effort from Peckinpah sits chronologically right between two of my all-time favorite films, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia and Cross of Iron. From all I've heard, it was Peckinpah playing nice with the studios for a change, and we can all see by the final product how worthwhile those sentiments were. It's not a total loss by any means. The character work done with James Caan here is pretty impressive, taking a potboiler rehabilitation narrative and somehow actually investing interest in it without boredom. In fact, I'm much more interested in Caan's relationship with his girlfriend than the obligatory revenge narrative. It was a relief that the film took some time on this kind of material because in simple action terms, The Killer Elite may be the worst Peckinpah I've seen. The opening action sequence in the airport is a complete loss, and whoever thought Peckinpah would be good at shooting kung fu should have lost their job. The scene in which Caan hides away with his client while the villains stalk them at a port side shack could have been legendary but misses the mark due to the obligatory ninja stupidity and an almost complete lack of shot geography logic. The finale is perhaps paradigmatic with great bits here and there but finally stillborn due to the imposition of ninja theatrics and other silly things. Bo Hopkins and Burt Young add a little flavor to the piece, but Robert Duvall is shamefully underutilized here. The script attempts to take on some standard Peckinpah themes but never carries any of them through. The material concerning Caan's finding his place in a world full of mercenaries could have been legendary, but the treatment of his Chinese politican client gets muddled again and again, at times trying to portray him as an iconoclast whose values we should look up to and others as a typical politician. The film never makes up its mind one way or another and, despite a suitably nihilistic ending, never really gets into the kind of commentary on shifts in honor that Peckinpah's so great at. Still though, the occasional flourishes of what makes his other work great makes this a pretty watchable flick. The use of on-location shooting here works much to the film's advantage, especially in one great shootout in the San Francisco streets and the finale in the battleship graveyard. Despite all of my bugbears, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it on a shallow level as one of those goofy oddities of 70's studio cinema. It's a shame that Peckinpah had to pander, but even in pandering, we still get some great character scenes and a couple decent action sequences. Let's just be glad that he got to do Cross of Iron, arguably his swansong. *** out've *****