By Jeremy Carr
The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974) feels like a working man’s
thriller. Its bad guys come from varying backgrounds—military, mafia, experience
on just the type of train they are hijacking—but none of them are exceptionally
slick or formidably imposing in a supervillain sort of way. There is no global
catastrophe, no city under siege; there isn’t even a single building at risk of
explosion or collapse. These men want $1 million. Period. Sure, they have
kidnapped about two dozen hostages, but in an age now when cinematic baddies
detain entire metropolitan regions, this arrangement seems almost quaint by
comparison. Leading the attempt to thwart the four antagonists are a couple of
guys just doing their job, as capably and confidently as they would any other
day. Written by Peter Stone, based on John Godey’s (Morton Freedgood) novel, this
model of 1970s American movie grit stands out in form and function for the way
its unpretentious, low-key scheme is conceived of and enacted, and the
systematic, procedural manner in which the plot is hindered by men with evident
occupational know-how.
Starting with the
motorman trainee who recites the stop-start routine for a train as it pulls in
and out of a station, Pelham goes for
realistic detail at most every turn, setting up how this operation works and economically
dispersing the minutiae that will prove integral to the plot as the film moves
along. Scarcely any nuance of character or indication of incident, from Green’s
(Martin Balsam) sniffles to the description of the subway lines to hypothetical
escape routes, is mentioned or shown without having some later relevance. Quirks
and gradually revealed backstories imbue each of the four criminals with
definable features that become resiliently realistic. The paunchy Green (code
name for Harold Longman), adorned by craggy grey hair and thick glasses, is
hardly the embodiment of a criminal mastermind, but he is experienced in the
ways of the rails and that is what matters. Brown (AKA George Steever, played
by Earl Hindman), the most irrelevant of the four, is marred by a stutter,
while Grey (Giuseppe Benvenuto, played by Hector Elizondo) is a sleazy, pervy
wildcard. The man in charge, Blue (Bernard Ryder - Robert Shaw), is introduced
by a subtle shuffle on the station landing and later bides his time with
crossword puzzles. These are like the bad guys next door.
On the other side
of the plot are the protagonists, similarly presented as unassuming Average
Joes. Transit Authority police lieutenant Zachary Garber (Walter Matthau), who
unwittingly yet naturally becomes the key hero of the film, is first seen
dozing off. He then spends the first part of his day escorting some visiting
Japanese dignitaries, giving them a guided tour of the New York City subway
system, reciting a numerical spiel composed of dry, textbook knowledge. Played by
Matthau with delightful cynicism and weariness, a year after his excellent turn
in Charley Varrick, Garber
subsequently contends with the bureaucracy of city management while doing his blue-collar
best to negotiate with the hijackers. It is, of course, a slow day to start (one
of few clichés in the film), but in this initial downtime, Garber and his crew
are presented in an engaging series of humorous openings. Believing they don’t
understand English (the punchline being that they do), Garber calls the
Japanese officials “dummies†and tells them friend and street-wise cohort police
lieutenant Rico Patrone (Jerry Stiller) works for the mob on the weekend.
Meanwhile, the foul-mouthed supervisor, Caz Dolowicz (Tom Pedi), blusters his
way around, decrying a politically correct workplace where a man can’t swear in
the presence of a lady. These salty-seasoned guys have been on the job for a
long time; they banter with a grizzled, veteran expertise and a crass B.S.
detector: “Who’s gonna steal a subway train?†exclaims Caz after hearing of the
admittedly unorthodox crime.
The four criminals
institute a time-limit in which to receive the required money and the necessary
accommodations for escape, but the race-against-the-clock scenario that
develops in The Taking of Pelham One Two
Three takes its time increasing gears. Contrary to flash-pan hyper-stylized
action vehicles that move along at an instantly expedient rate (like the late
Tony Scott’s 1999 remake—still a decent film), Pelham gingerly amps up the velocity. There are brief moments of
ruthless action, in which the crooks express their disciplined seriousness and
potential for fatal violence, but generally, at least in the beginning, Blue and
his associates are methodically efficient. “We’re in no hurry,†he says, testing
the patience of Garber and his team while suggesting the potential of yet-to-be-revealed
plans that give the film part of its sweeping suspense.
Then the train
starts rolling. As a satisfying crescendo to the carefully orchestrated first
two acts, the accelerating conclusion of Pelham
gets everyone and everything in motion. The good and the bad spring into action,
and in a fascinating display of proficiency and well-oiled coordination, Garber
and the officers begin a rapid radio relay, going through the chain of command
and hashing out the best way to proceed. The deadline nears, the sickly mayor
agrees to pay the ransom, the money counting begins, and soon the transport of
the fastidiously arranged cash is underway. (The mayor’s flu is another of
those curious character traits that make these individuals more than just
generic mechanisms.) As the situation underground grows hazy, and the placement
of the criminal quartet and their prospective getaway becomes uncertain, David
Shire’s tremendous score, a vital component of the film throughout, now becomes
a driving composition, recalling a film noir or television police drama with its
urban intensity and pounding pace. Combine this with the editing of Robert Q.
Lovett and Gerald B. Greenberg, the latter having won an Oscar for his
similarly dynamic cutting on The French
Connection (1971), and The Taking of
Pelham One Two Three barrels toward its exhilarating destination in both
image and sound.