SHOOT TO KILL
A film review by Jeff Meyer
Copyright 1988 Jeff Meyer
If I were writing a syndicated column for THE NEW YORKER or FILM COMMENT, I imagine I could have titled this review and that of HOUSEKEEPING [printed elsewhere -ecl] "two from the Pacific NorthWest," since the majority of both films take place in the timberlines of west Washington state. Warning, Warning, Will Robinson... linking analogy approaching! However, since Pauline Kael has not suffered a massive stroke as of yet (her review of THREE MEN AND A BABY left me with the impression that she had at least left the theater with huge, throbbing veins sticking out of her neck) and hence no vacancy at the NY, I'll just admit that I saw the two films last week, separated by a couple of days.
Frankly, I've had a bad time with TV and movie cops. Growing up Under Mass Media, almost all of them seemed to be inappropriate for the "heroic policeman" role most boys have, somewhere, in the back of their head. Jack Webb was too dull (and later, too conservative--"Why do you think they call it dope, son?" *DUM-DA-DUMM-DUMM*!), along with the boys on ADAM-12; Steve (Jack Lord) McGarret appeared almost immediately pompous to me ("Gosh, Steve, you're always one step ahead of these guys." "That's why I've got the big office, Danno."). Columbo was great, but can you imagine the good Lt. protecting someone against several Mafia hit men? And Dirty Harry was just a detective with a good aim and a bad attitude; enjoying him was based on really disliking his opponents.
However, there was one guy whose several appearances as a policeman impressed me as a young 'un, an actor who played the type of detective that seemed in the best tradition of Holmes: someone with great intelligence, resolution and deductive abilities *and* the ability to pull the fat out of the fire in a tense situation. While some of Sidney Poitier's appearances in detective films were more concerned with racial issues than crime thrillers (i.e. his Mr. Tibbs series--IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT, THEY CALL ME MR. TIBBS, THE ORGANIZATION), he always portrayed a detective who was *really* dangerous--he had brains. Instead of twitching an eyebrow and muttering vengeance, he'd read the clues, outsmart the villain... and then blow him away, in a perfectly legitimate shoot-out. Under control, planning every move--you could just *hear* his mind clicking away in the background.
Well, he's back (but not as Tibbs) in SHOOT TO KILL, and clicking away like crazy. In the fine tradition of "Waste-His-Ass" movies everywhere (Brief Definition: A "Waste-His-Ass" movie is a film that shows a villain performing such heinous crimes during the first reel that the audience is heavily rooting for the hero to cream the villain, i.e. "Waste-His-Ass"), we have a really dangerous, brutal criminal who gets FBI agent Poitier involved in a hostage situation and escapes. Poitier tracks him down to (I'm required by state law to say this: Beautiful) northern Washington, where he has joined a hiking/fishing trip (led by Kirstie Alley). Alley's boyfriend (Tom Beringer), a "mountain man," sets out after them with Poitier in tow. You can probably guess the rest....
Poitier does a good job as the FBI agent--he justifies the hero role by deducing what's going on. Beringer is fine as a foil to Poitier, especially in the woods; Alley's character, though, is lucky she's not dead after the second reel, considering how she treats the killer (I kept wanting to shout, "Use the Vulcan Neck Pinch, Kirstie!"). There are some other good elements: the photography is inventive (especially at the beginning of the film), and the short mystery about which of the five fisherman on the trip is really the killer is pretty good (I guessed wrong, though if I'd given it a little thought, I would have come up with the correct answer). And it's the first movie since MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL to have a Moose Trainer in the credits. But it's overlong: by the end of the film, the manhunt has gotten tedious, and the humor from Poitier's wilderness struggles are gone. There are some real gapes in logic (though not as many as the standard action pic is heir to), and the soundtrack is annoying at time (the scene with Poitier and Beringer climbing over the snow just cried for a narrator saying something like "On and on... further and further... they trudged to their DESTINY because... THE MOUNTIES ALWAYS GET THEIR MAN!").
Conclusion: overlong, but redeemable with concessions. However, if you ever meet a grizzly bear in the woods, *do not* attempt Mr. Poitier's method of protection. Talk about the magic of movies...
Moriarty, aka Jeff Meyer
INTERNET: moriarty@tc.fluke.COM
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