Midnight Run (15.)
1987. Directed by Martin Brest.
Starring Robert De Niro, Charles Grodin, John Ashton, Yaphet Kotto, Dennis Farina and Joe Pantoliano. 126 mins.
The final scene of Midnight Run is, in retrospect, surely the most poignant ever in an 80s big budget action comedy, or indeed in most any other film. DeNiro is Jack Walsh, a bail bonds man, a modern day bounty hunter. For the previous five days he has been trying to get an accountant (Grodin), who has embezzled $15 million from a mob boss (Farina), from New York to LA. At the end there is a bittersweet parting between the two men at an airport and De Niro, having made it through the previous two hours of chaos and destruction with his dignity and self respect in tact, makes off into the night and mutters, “looks like I'm walking.” And that, ladies and gentleman, is a moment to provoke a most mournful sigh, because that is it; that's the moment that the genius De Niro, the method marvel De Niro, the JohnnyBoyVitoCorleoneTravisBickleJakelaMottaNoodlesRupertPumpkin De Niro took his leave of us. There would be glimpses, moments of genius but from now on De Niro would be all about Muppet shrugs and pained grimaces; trademarked gestures signifying distant echoes of former glories.
Nobody knew that in 1987 but I think we all knew that this was something special, both the film and the performances. Midnight Run offers up some of the last vestiges of the “whoa shit” school of comedy by excess. The police can't just pull up to arrest someone, they have to come in about fifty cars. The car chase at the end in which a multitude of police vehicles recklessly and pointlessly fling themselves to destruction to little real end and purpose feels like a homage to the Blues Brothers. It is big and brash and over packed with mafiosi, FBI men and rival bounty hunters, all battling for their share of screen time, yet scattered amongst the mayhem is a top quality cast, all of them so perfectly suited to their roles that you couldn't imagine anyone else playing them, and playing them like these were real situations. It's as if the cast of Saving Private Ryan were injected into Spielberg's earlier 1941 and the disjoint between the two is part of what makes Midnight Run so great.
And, of course, there is the dream pairing of De Niro and Grodin. Most Hollywood films are the results of numerous pulls on the casting slot machine. In the months/ years/ decades projects spend going through development, any number of combinations will come up and then be discarded due to availability, personality disputes or studio interference. Midnight Run was one time when the slots came up trumps – De Niro and director Brest, fresh off of Beverly Hills Cop, were locked in early, but it took a big nudge to get Grodin into a role the studio were adamant should go to Cher.
They make an adorable couple. Grodin spends almost all the film handcuffed and getting pushed around, abused and beaten up by De Niro and you can see the appeal in picking on him. He's so soft and puffy and gentle and civilised and outraged at being out of his realm of comfort, with that Fuzzy Felt layer of hair on top of his head. The situation he's in – a good man who is likely to be killed because he unwittingly found himself working as a mob accountant and decided to do the right thing – means he already has our sympathy, so Grodin doesn't make him any more likeable than he needs to be. It is one thing to be able to improvise funny dialogue but Grodin can do it in character. He doesn't come up with wildly and improbably witty lines, he just lets this civilised man run his mouth off and bounces it off De Niro's taciturn pent up anger. There are moments when you can see De Niro struggle to keep a straight face.
Midnight Run is generally reckoned to be, his Brazil cameo aside, De Niro's first real comedy role. I'd reckon it to be one of his last. During the genius years he was invariably funny. He always had great timing, great comic instincts – watch his attempts to pick up Liza Minelli at the start of New York, New York; his double act with Joe Pesci in Raging Bull; dating Cybil Shepherd in Taxi Driver; everything in Mean Streets or go back to his pre-fame turn in De Palma's Hi Mom. In Midnight Run the humour comes out of the character. The key scene is the one in Chicago where Walsh goes to the home of his ex-wife and the interplay between him and the wife and daughter (just about the only women in this film) he hasn't seen in nine years gives the film a grounding in reality that the film doesn't really deserve but he gives it to it anyway. His only slightly uncomfortable moments are early on when he tries to banter with the FBI men. It feels forced, but even that is probably in character. For some reason he never really followed up on this, his subsequent comedy roles have generally been frantic mugging. Midnight Run is one of his very best performances, right up there with the Scorsese roles and better than any of his subsequent Oscar nominated roles.
The film itself isn't perfect. I think most viewers will accept a certain level of improbability in return for entertainment but they really push it here. Almost nothing in the plot bears even the lightest scrutiny. Which is odd because the audience believing in the situation, the characters and the relationships is what makes it such a marvelous entertainment. There is a great but completely out-of-character score from Danny Elfman.
Midnight Run practically redefines the nature of wit. The dialogue is made up almost entirely of profanities (in the 80s, using the F word was still quite liberating) and yet it is funny, and nourishingly funny. There are very few cheap jokes here. Whoever said sarcasm was the lowest form of wit clearly never heard Grodin deliver the line “Oh, I'm sure we're perfectly safe,” in the middle of car chase when two bounty hunters are wondering if they've managed to lose the helicopter that was firing at them. Ah, what a film.
Extras.
New interviews with the writer George Gallo and most of the prominent cast members, except De Niro. The one with Grodin, who is now 80, is a gem, funny and revealing. You can see why his Hollywood career was thwarted, restricted to fits and starts.
There's also a brief promo/ making of from when the film came out.
1987. Directed by Martin Brest.
Starring Robert De Niro, Charles Grodin, John Ashton, Yaphet Kotto, Dennis Farina and Joe Pantoliano. 126 mins.
The final scene of Midnight Run is, in retrospect, surely the most poignant ever in an 80s big budget action comedy, or indeed in most any other film. DeNiro is Jack Walsh, a bail bonds man, a modern day bounty hunter. For the previous five days he has been trying to get an accountant (Grodin), who has embezzled $15 million from a mob boss (Farina), from New York to LA. At the end there is a bittersweet parting between the two men at an airport and De Niro, having made it through the previous two hours of chaos and destruction with his dignity and self respect in tact, makes off into the night and mutters, “looks like I'm walking.” And that, ladies and gentleman, is a moment to provoke a most mournful sigh, because that is it; that's the moment that the genius De Niro, the method marvel De Niro, the JohnnyBoyVitoCorleoneTravisBickleJakelaMottaNoodlesRupertPumpkin De Niro took his leave of us. There would be glimpses, moments of genius but from now on De Niro would be all about Muppet shrugs and pained grimaces; trademarked gestures signifying distant echoes of former glories.
Nobody knew that in 1987 but I think we all knew that this was something special, both the film and the performances. Midnight Run offers up some of the last vestiges of the “whoa shit” school of comedy by excess. The police can't just pull up to arrest someone, they have to come in about fifty cars. The car chase at the end in which a multitude of police vehicles recklessly and pointlessly fling themselves to destruction to little real end and purpose feels like a homage to the Blues Brothers. It is big and brash and over packed with mafiosi, FBI men and rival bounty hunters, all battling for their share of screen time, yet scattered amongst the mayhem is a top quality cast, all of them so perfectly suited to their roles that you couldn't imagine anyone else playing them, and playing them like these were real situations. It's as if the cast of Saving Private Ryan were injected into Spielberg's earlier 1941 and the disjoint between the two is part of what makes Midnight Run so great.
And, of course, there is the dream pairing of De Niro and Grodin. Most Hollywood films are the results of numerous pulls on the casting slot machine. In the months/ years/ decades projects spend going through development, any number of combinations will come up and then be discarded due to availability, personality disputes or studio interference. Midnight Run was one time when the slots came up trumps – De Niro and director Brest, fresh off of Beverly Hills Cop, were locked in early, but it took a big nudge to get Grodin into a role the studio were adamant should go to Cher.
They make an adorable couple. Grodin spends almost all the film handcuffed and getting pushed around, abused and beaten up by De Niro and you can see the appeal in picking on him. He's so soft and puffy and gentle and civilised and outraged at being out of his realm of comfort, with that Fuzzy Felt layer of hair on top of his head. The situation he's in – a good man who is likely to be killed because he unwittingly found himself working as a mob accountant and decided to do the right thing – means he already has our sympathy, so Grodin doesn't make him any more likeable than he needs to be. It is one thing to be able to improvise funny dialogue but Grodin can do it in character. He doesn't come up with wildly and improbably witty lines, he just lets this civilised man run his mouth off and bounces it off De Niro's taciturn pent up anger. There are moments when you can see De Niro struggle to keep a straight face.
Midnight Run is generally reckoned to be, his Brazil cameo aside, De Niro's first real comedy role. I'd reckon it to be one of his last. During the genius years he was invariably funny. He always had great timing, great comic instincts – watch his attempts to pick up Liza Minelli at the start of New York, New York; his double act with Joe Pesci in Raging Bull; dating Cybil Shepherd in Taxi Driver; everything in Mean Streets or go back to his pre-fame turn in De Palma's Hi Mom. In Midnight Run the humour comes out of the character. The key scene is the one in Chicago where Walsh goes to the home of his ex-wife and the interplay between him and the wife and daughter (just about the only women in this film) he hasn't seen in nine years gives the film a grounding in reality that the film doesn't really deserve but he gives it to it anyway. His only slightly uncomfortable moments are early on when he tries to banter with the FBI men. It feels forced, but even that is probably in character. For some reason he never really followed up on this, his subsequent comedy roles have generally been frantic mugging. Midnight Run is one of his very best performances, right up there with the Scorsese roles and better than any of his subsequent Oscar nominated roles.
The film itself isn't perfect. I think most viewers will accept a certain level of improbability in return for entertainment but they really push it here. Almost nothing in the plot bears even the lightest scrutiny. Which is odd because the audience believing in the situation, the characters and the relationships is what makes it such a marvelous entertainment. There is a great but completely out-of-character score from Danny Elfman.
Midnight Run practically redefines the nature of wit. The dialogue is made up almost entirely of profanities (in the 80s, using the F word was still quite liberating) and yet it is funny, and nourishingly funny. There are very few cheap jokes here. Whoever said sarcasm was the lowest form of wit clearly never heard Grodin deliver the line “Oh, I'm sure we're perfectly safe,” in the middle of car chase when two bounty hunters are wondering if they've managed to lose the helicopter that was firing at them. Ah, what a film.
Extras.
New interviews with the writer George Gallo and most of the prominent cast members, except De Niro. The one with Grodin, who is now 80, is a gem, funny and revealing. You can see why his Hollywood career was thwarted, restricted to fits and starts.
There's also a brief promo/ making of from when the film came out.
