Hard Times (15.)
Directed by Walter Hill. 1975.
Starring Charles Bronson, James Coburn, Strother Martin, Jill Ireland, Maggie Blye, Michael McGuire, Bruce Glover. 93 mins. Released on Dual Format blu-ray/ DVD as part of Eureka's masters of Cinema series.
In Walter Hill's debut film one of his two stars got to play a character called Speedy. It wasn't Charles Bronson. Bronson was never an actor you could attach the moniker “speedy” too; even when making great escapes he never seemed to be in a hurry. Yet his whole approach to acting was devoted to making the shortest route from A to B, getting the message across with the least fuss possible. Though he was too old for the role of a Depression era bareknuckle fighter trying to make money in illegal streetfights, his minimalist aesthetic dovetailed perfectly with director Walter Hill's. As an action director Hill was all about keeping it mean and lean, but in his first film I think it's the bits of fat that you really cherish.
The idea of the mean and lean school is to cut the story down to its bare essentials and stop it becoming melodramatic and cliched. First time out though, Hill cuts so much away he reduces his main characters to dull archetypes, and leaves his two aging stars looking a little exposed. Bronson's Chaney is the standard American protagonist, the unknowable man-of-few-words drifter. Coburn's Speedy is his fight pimp, the man who sets up the brawls, stumps up the money and runs the book. He is that most obvious of cliches, the mug punter. No matter how much money he wins, he will always find ways to get back into lumber.
These are two noble, time honoured archetypes but pushed so hard they become redundant figures. The problem with Bronson's Chaney is not just that he is an invincible fighting machine, but that he's an invincible, unflinching and unbothered human being. No wonder he don't say much – the total certainty of his existence, and his casual acceptance of it, pretty much negates the need for conversation. He doesn't change much either, always there in his flat cap and red shirt. In contrast, talk is all Speedy has and the pleasure he gets running his mouth off leads him to make bonehead move after bonehead move, so much so that I think you will end up siding with the loan sharks who keep threatening him. If anything I think they are too soft on him – I'd have had his fingers broken by the midway point.
All the interest is in the support. Peckinpah regular Stoker Martin makes the most of a scene stealing role as Poe, a loquacious hophead doctor while McGuire is compelling as the chief villain. He has one of those what-have-I-seen-you-in faces that tells you he's been doing this for years, and is grateful for a role that is a bit better written than what he is used to. Even the muscle is charismatic: Robert Tessier makes the unbeaten brawler that will be pitched against Bronson into a memorable foe, grinning cheerfully as blows bash into his bald head.
Hard Times is a skimpy debut, too thin to really compel. There's not even that much fighting in it. The cover suggests The Sting style japes but Bronson's pug features make sure that most kinds of levity are kept at a distance. Fun isn't its business, but it doesn't take itself seriously either. Despite the title it isn't much interested in the backdrop of the Depression. The best moments are Edward Hopper-esque scene in coffee bars or the sparse room Bronson rents. It's not much of a film ultimately but it did well enough on its release to get Hill regular employment and his third, fourth and fifth films – The Warriors, The Long Riders, Southern Comfort – would be enough to earn him Master of Cinema status.
Directed by Walter Hill. 1975.
Starring Charles Bronson, James Coburn, Strother Martin, Jill Ireland, Maggie Blye, Michael McGuire, Bruce Glover. 93 mins. Released on Dual Format blu-ray/ DVD as part of Eureka's masters of Cinema series.
In Walter Hill's debut film one of his two stars got to play a character called Speedy. It wasn't Charles Bronson. Bronson was never an actor you could attach the moniker “speedy” too; even when making great escapes he never seemed to be in a hurry. Yet his whole approach to acting was devoted to making the shortest route from A to B, getting the message across with the least fuss possible. Though he was too old for the role of a Depression era bareknuckle fighter trying to make money in illegal streetfights, his minimalist aesthetic dovetailed perfectly with director Walter Hill's. As an action director Hill was all about keeping it mean and lean, but in his first film I think it's the bits of fat that you really cherish.
The idea of the mean and lean school is to cut the story down to its bare essentials and stop it becoming melodramatic and cliched. First time out though, Hill cuts so much away he reduces his main characters to dull archetypes, and leaves his two aging stars looking a little exposed. Bronson's Chaney is the standard American protagonist, the unknowable man-of-few-words drifter. Coburn's Speedy is his fight pimp, the man who sets up the brawls, stumps up the money and runs the book. He is that most obvious of cliches, the mug punter. No matter how much money he wins, he will always find ways to get back into lumber.
These are two noble, time honoured archetypes but pushed so hard they become redundant figures. The problem with Bronson's Chaney is not just that he is an invincible fighting machine, but that he's an invincible, unflinching and unbothered human being. No wonder he don't say much – the total certainty of his existence, and his casual acceptance of it, pretty much negates the need for conversation. He doesn't change much either, always there in his flat cap and red shirt. In contrast, talk is all Speedy has and the pleasure he gets running his mouth off leads him to make bonehead move after bonehead move, so much so that I think you will end up siding with the loan sharks who keep threatening him. If anything I think they are too soft on him – I'd have had his fingers broken by the midway point.
All the interest is in the support. Peckinpah regular Stoker Martin makes the most of a scene stealing role as Poe, a loquacious hophead doctor while McGuire is compelling as the chief villain. He has one of those what-have-I-seen-you-in faces that tells you he's been doing this for years, and is grateful for a role that is a bit better written than what he is used to. Even the muscle is charismatic: Robert Tessier makes the unbeaten brawler that will be pitched against Bronson into a memorable foe, grinning cheerfully as blows bash into his bald head.
Hard Times is a skimpy debut, too thin to really compel. There's not even that much fighting in it. The cover suggests The Sting style japes but Bronson's pug features make sure that most kinds of levity are kept at a distance. Fun isn't its business, but it doesn't take itself seriously either. Despite the title it isn't much interested in the backdrop of the Depression. The best moments are Edward Hopper-esque scene in coffee bars or the sparse room Bronson rents. It's not much of a film ultimately but it did well enough on its release to get Hill regular employment and his third, fourth and fifth films – The Warriors, The Long Riders, Southern Comfort – would be enough to earn him Master of Cinema status.
