Revisit: 48 HRS is a Masterpiece.
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A farm midday sits in the middle of the frame, tanning itself in the heat of a quiet afternoon. The first few notes of music that become so vital to the lure, and the subsequent lore of this film are still searching for their rhythm. As of right now they're just disparate sounds, not quite yet working in unison, much like the two men around whom the rest of this story will concern itself. Horses graze, workers work near a railroad track, as a vehicle used for either repair or construction of a train passes by. The frame clears, save for dust, the notes of music begin to pick up beginning with a two count, and the words "48 hrs" flash across the screen. The memorable opening to this film could feel somewhat disconnected from the rest , it doesn't signal the setting , or the main themes at play, but it does signal us to its inspirations, as well as its intentions. The Western, Kurosawa, Don Siegel. The weather, the landscape, the elements, and even the musical cues are clues as to this films muses, and the ingredients that converge to form its greatness. So too does its overt overtures to plainness, in structure, tone, and character. Like the genre it most closely resembles, (The Western before it became a sub genre of it's own) 48 hrs makes it bones on characters, and set up, and the settlement myth of the lawman..not necessarily by making them complicated, or misunderstood, more-so by making them interesting, resourceful, and consistent . One interdependent on the other. The setup is clear right from the opening, maybe even from the title itself, resembling its cinematic antecedent High Noon. We are introduced to the bad guys first. Both through exposition and most impressively through action. We will come to know Albert Ganz, and Billy Bear are audacious and care little for the law because its takes both to commit to an armed prison breakout in broad daylight. If we doubted it still, they further the notion by murdering a friend on a park bench in the city, again in broad daylight. The reveal of this murder is the first of this films many brilliant story telling decisions. Ganz is on a pay phone casually setting up an escort for himself, while Billy sits reading a paper next to a man who appears to be asleep on a park bench. Hill and the camera do not seize the opportunity to provide detail, this is purposeful. It is noticeable that something is off, and if the audience chooses to focus on the man on the bench , one might for instance take note of his hands laying so incredibly limp as to imply next to no bones, but again the casualty of both of the men involved would delay any real conclusion as to the nature of this mans predicament. Billy gets up from his relaxed position on the bench, asks for his own escort through Ganz. Ganz gives a name that is not his own, and he and Billy calmly walk away. The camera now pans back to the bench where it is clearly revealed (“Henry Wong” we will be told later) , is indeed dead. It a scene with no exposition as to the nature of these men, that provides exactly that kind of insight into their psyche. It is also a callback to the trope of the lawless wild west of which the movie is set (San Francisco no less) where the outlaws commit murder callously and without remorse, where a man can be left for dead right where he sits. Next we are introduced to Nick Nolte's Jack Kates who provides subtle exposition as to the nature of performing law in this town. Waking up with his girlfriend in bed, an argument immediately ensues over the nature of their relationship status, (law men in precarious relationships with women in film was by now a cliche ), but it is his comment about it being a "crummy day" the day not having even started that gives insight as to at the very least Kate's feelings about the state of law enforcement in this town. We will find out later it's not just a feeling , it will in fact be a crummy day for Kates. The shootout at the Walden is the introduction of good to evil, ethics to psychopathic nihilism, its overly simplified, leaning heavily in the direction of the law, but in that simplicity it finds its complexity (take for instance the hostage scene involving another cop). Kates decision to try and stale the inevitable is both an example in context of the impoverished nature of trying to play fair with people who have no interest in doing so, but out of context of the film its deployed as “copaganda” a way to tell the audience cops have to be cruel because its a cruel world. It has alot more questions and is alot less strident than its predecessor “Don Siegel's San Francisco classic “Dirty Harry”. Cinematically it is expert crafting of an action sequence, and a continuation of the films western themes. Outlaws, lawmen, prostitution, violence, courage, and moral dilemma. The last of which is personified in Kates choice between dropping his gun, and taking the shot, ( a decision which will impact the ending of the film, and infer Kates rather small learning curve).
You don’t know Jack.
Jack Kates and thusly Nick Nolte's performance loom large over the makeup, feel, and resonance of the movie despite the larger than life appearance of Eddie Murphy as Reggie Hammond. In this way the film resembles "The Man who shot Liberty Valance " not so much in where the two main players were at this point in their careers, but in the false perception that might easily be arrived at without careful analysis that one person out shined the other, (Stewart over Wayne, or Murphy over Nolte ) or that the film belongs to one or the other. Kates ideologically walks a line between the kind of lawmen emphasized in Anthony Mann films - the more thoughtful and complex, and those in Ford, more resolute and simple (although not without their own complexity). Kates feels remorseful about his role in violence and abuse of the people around him in ways that never occurred to many of the typical John Wayne characters in Ford films like Rio Bravo, (another western to which this film shares genetic traits with which was made as a direct repudiation of the themes on High Noon ) again, furthering the idea that Jack Kate's is a fusion of the two. Nolte for his part embodies much of Wayne's straightforward earnestness, and like Wayne cuts a similarly imposing figure with as much charisma, and even a comparable gait. It’s an actor in a movie star’s apparel type performance. Nolte unlike his cinematic alter ego in the movie is also a fantastic listener, and I mean fantastic when I say fantastic. Working with a newcomer to the discipline of acting could not have been easy, even more-so one so prone to bouts of furious improvisation, and yet when one pays close attention Nolte is acutely attuned to every last word, and his spot on reactions in the most honest and authentic spirit of who and what Kates represents is a testament to it. Especially as it pertains to cutting off or interrupting another actors dialogue. A key component in creating realism in conversation, as well as establishing chemistry. Nolte expresses this skill best in the dialogue between Kates and Hammond as Hammond complains about hunger, and later in his refusal to admit he is holding back information that would be key to Noltes investigation outside of "Torchy's " Nolte cuts off Murphy in ways so natural and organic it's hard to tell whether there was actual written dialogue or if this was pure improvisation either of which would be extremely impressive. Nolte's abrupt disruptions are also key to deciphering his portrayal of Kates. Kates, at least in his own mind considers himself a simple man, someone not far from the space Popeye Doyle occupied in The French Connection. . He likes it cut and dry, brevity is his calling card, so of course he’s not going to be into Hammonds long winded bullshit. Equally important to Kates character as is Nolte's performance of it, is improvisation. He won’t break the rules but hes not against bending them, or forgetting them, especially in the moment. There is a scene that takes place in the police station as Kates comes back from the shootout at the Hotel. One officer in particular continues to deride and berate Kates about his ego, and goes too far when he implies Kates doesn't care about the loss of his fellow cops. Kates immediately forgets himself and Nolte again shows a flair for brilliant timing and preternatural instincts for making a moment feel organic. I've watched him fly up from that chair several times and it's as difficult to time as Bryson Tiller's last "Don't" in the song titled the same. It is a moment indicative of just how deeply Nolte understands and gets his character, and the improvisation, as his code of ethics regarding police work that allows him to give Hammond back his money are as part and parcel to the bonding of Kates and Hammond as Nolte's own skill at improvisation and ability to give is to the chemistry of he and Murphy in the film.
Torchy’s.
Torchy's is an iconic , landmark moment in film that serves as the centerpiece of 48 hrs and the foundation of one of the most storied careers in American movies. There are several factors that play into what makes the scene so legendary; the stakes, the racial overtones and tensions being addressed, the set design, the characters, and most importantly and obviously Eddie Murphy. The stakes are clear and made in the moments before and uncharacteristically after the scene takes place so that it sets up what goes on inside via the conversation that precedes the scene. These stakes are inter-stitched with the racial tension. 48 hrs is a ticking clock movie, so time is of the essence and for both Kates and Hammond, it’s important something come of this scene and we the audience are now on notice. Whether for Murphy’s insatiable libido, his money, or Kates case. The racial tension is the obstacle, and again is infused in yet another factor.. the set design. Torchy's is a movie bar that actually looks and feels like a place you might find in real life. That is in sharp contrast to most movie bars or clubs which feel overly dressed and exaggerated in anything ranging from attendance to dressing. Take for instance "Club Hell" in another Buddy cop film I love, “Bad Boys”. That club is built more like a theme park than a club. It looks far too costly to cover its overhead, has too much going on, is ridiculously crowded for a place of its size, and it's far too lavish for its targeted crowd and themes (The fish tank feels particularly preposterous).
Torchy's on the other hand is just right, the female dancer maybe the most garish and outlandish but she still doesn't feel completely out of the question in a place such as this. The design is impeccable from the confederate flag, (even the quantity feels fair and not exaggerated) to the sign outside, to the bar itself. The people and their reactions are classic, from the bar tender (played to uncanny perfection by frequent Hill player Peter Jason) to the understandable idiot who tries to flee the scene because he’s on parole, to the redneck who mouths off to Eddie. These people (Especially Jason) feel genuine, even as template caricatures, a balance incredibly hard to pull off. Then finally there is Eddie. What he is about to do feels now like going back and watching one of the greatest pitchers ever pitch a no hitter in their first outing. No one’s touching him in this scene, they can’t get a read on what he’s throwing, every remark finds a different speed, a different touch. He shows a remarkable amount of control, and follow through, with a variety of retorts, and comebacks as pitches. The curveball:
“You said bullshit and experience is all it takes right? Come on in and experience some of my bullshit.”
The Sinker (A pitch designed to take the power away from the batter, resulting in a hit that never quite leaves the ground, ) :
“Hammond: “I’d like something to drink, preferably some vodka.
Bartender: “Best have a (beat) Black Russian.
Hammond: (mock laughter) “Black Russian, (taps another patron) You hear what he said? Black Russian, that’s a funny joke, I get it I’m black” No, that’s, that’s funny. No i’d just rather have plain old vodka” ”
The joke is dead on arrival, but more importantly Murphy’s sly sarcasm, and wit, drains the power of both the insult and the insulter. This is the ultimate theme, and power of the entire scene. This is followed up rather quickly by the change-up:
“Hammond: You know, as long as we standing here talking and being all friendly. Im looking for a (pulls out badge) good ol boy by the name of Billy Bear. I was wondering if you might be able to help me find him?
Bartender: (Clearly disinterested in helping) “Never heard of him.”
Hammond: “Never heard of him before? Never heard of Billy Bear huh? (Takes shot) Looky here, (immediate change in tone, throws now empty shot glass through a near by mirror, grabs bartender by collar) Fuckin heard of him now man?
Hammond”
The fastball, Murphy’s most reliable, commentary, wit, sarcasm that comes at you so fast you can’t hit back:
“Hammond: (searches patron, finds wad of cash) “You loaded here. Where the fuck did you get this?”
Patron: “Tax Refund.”
Hammond: “Bullshit, too fuckin stupid to have a job”
Hill for his part makes sure to capture the reactions to Murphy’s brilliant use of a steady stream of weaponized wit, and vulgar profanity in this bar filled with white people that as Kates remarked earlier “Would cut your black ass right up”. Hill’s most brilliant move though was understanding and knowing that this was the time to take the pin off of Eddie. I don’t know for sure because there’s not much out there about the construction of this scene, but this does not feel like a scene that was directed in any way that doesn’t have to do with technical aspects. Acting-wise, more-so than any part of this film this scene feels the most hands off, which is a direction technique in and of itself. Something people from Wyler to Scorcese have repeatedly alluded to in their work. It’s a credit to both Hill and Nolte who both had the task of turning a first time actor with NO background in acting into a credible actor, and a credit to Murphy’s natural instinct, star power ,and willingness to be schooled, and molded. The fact that the scene never for a moment derails from its call to action, and its sense of urgency to make way for Murphy’s comedic brilliance, while feeling so improvised, is a combination of conscious direction, generous acting by Nolte, and impeccable timing by Murphy. Exemplified in the cut to Nick Nolte knocking down a patron thereby returning the scene for a moment to its objective. Nolte’s almost meta line delivery “Some of us citizens are behind you all the way Officer” is apropos, indeed this scene feels like both Hill and Nolte had Murphy’s back in a collaborative effort to construct a great scene and by proxy a great movie.
Stay in your lane.
This has been said repeatedly in reference to many films, but knowing exactly what kind of movie you want to be, and maybe more importantly properly guessing what kind of movie you have on your hands is a cinematic superpower. Any detectable amount of confusion or unsureity as to the identity, or what it is you can or can’t pull off and it hurts your film in degrees that vary depending on the amount of confidence in a bad idea, or the lack of confidence in a good one. I think Hill knew exactly what he wanted 48hrs to be and because he chose correctly the film is a masterpiece of its genre. One in which it partially reinvents, creates, and firmly establishes the genres, and themes it borrows from. It reinvented and invigorated the western. It is in fact quite comparably a modern western, replacing the angst of the sanctioned violence of an immoral white western expansion into indigenous territory and replacing it with the angst of the expansion of the modern city landscape. It establishes the capabilities, and themes of the modern action flick, and it created a sub genre of its own in the buddy cop film, which would continue to be imitated years later. It also knows itself socio-politically. What's so fundamentally righteous rather than right about 48 hrs approach to race, class, the struggle between right and good - is its unwillingness to to approach anything nearing an answers. It understands that it is not that movie, and yet its unafraid to deal in good faith with what the conflict clearly suggest is going on here. What's shockingly gratifying about the Torchy's scene for instance is how much it backs ideologically much of what Hammond implies, while never appearing to fully back him. When Hammond suggests that the police are sanctioned bullies , who get away with a lot because they are backed by the state, not because they are actually bad asses, Torchy's then becomes a controlled experiment of Hammond’s hypothesis. And though narratively Hill doesn’t come down on a side, he doesn’t intervene, and the dots connect themselves. It's a very interesting turn of the screw to watch Murphy berate, bully, and terrorize white folk in a way that mirrors perfectly the kind of callous and cruel behavior exhibited by cops daily in black neighborhoods. It’s the cinematic extension of the slap in “In the Heat of the night”. I’m your worst nightmare a n****a with a badge” is the poignant cover page of an angry black manifesto. But maybe the films best exhibition of its deft handling of race , and where not to go is near the end of the film when Kates and Hammond make possibly the closest argument anyone can have that they are anything but inconvenient partners….
“Kates: “ You Know I...Well, nigger, and watermelon, I didn’t mean that stuff. I was just doing my job, keeping you down.”
Hammond: “Yeah, well doing your job don’t explain everything Jack.”
Kates: “Yeah you’re right”
