The Seven-Ups Review
THE SEVEN-UPS quietly yet ruthlessly deconstructs the police procedural. Despite what the DVD box art proclaims ("careening with action from beginning to end"), this is less an action-packed thriller than an absorbing insider's look at the rough-hewn mechanics of crime.
It hinges on the relationship between Buddy (Roy Scheider) and Vito (Tony LoBianco), friends who grew up together but took different paths. Buddy is leader of a small squad of undercover cops who do whatever it takes to nab crooks, as vividly illustrated in the opening sequence. Vito is an undertaker who has maintained ties with the neighborhood bad guys that Buddy wants to take down.
Both men are, ultimately, outsiders in their respective communities. Though Buddy is respected by ordinary folk in the neighborhood and (initially) supported by his superior in the Police Department, the legally-questionable methods of his squad raises eyebrows among fellow officers. Vito fondly recalls boyhood memories with Buddy and appears eager to share tidbits of information that will help him, yet harbors a stubborn desire to remain friends with the criminal element.
He has, in fact, become infected with wiseguy thinking.
Vito is the man behind a spate of kidnappings in which two hoods pretend to be cops, snatch a mobster off the street, and extort a huge ransom. Buddy's undercover squad investigates the kidnappings, resulting in an explosion of tense and deadly misunderstandings.
By subtly portraying relationships that are silently bound by honor and friendship, THE SEVEN-UPS digs into the heart of the clash between police and thieves. Vito is caught between the two sides in a shadowy world of his own making. He's not sufficiently callous to pursue openly a criminal lifestyle, but he can't resist the lure of "easy money." And he can't form true friendships with the local mobsters, because a residue of decency hovers somewhere nearby, haunting him.
Buddy doesn't appear to be any better off. We never see him "off the job." (One of the distinguishing characteristics of the script is that it doesn't delve into the private lives of the policemen.) When he gives his squad members time off, he holds back from joining them. When one of them ends up in a hospital, he lies to the man's wife about his condition -- in a brief, cool telephone call -- and tells her to stay away. He acknowledges, but avoids talking to, local merchants who give him friendly greetings.
As the plot unfolds, the film is low-key almost to a fault, forcing the viewer to pay close attention to the characters and the story. Don Ellis' orchestral musical score (heavy on the aggressively plucked strings) drives the early scenes forward, infusing them with a sense of menace and danger, and never more so than in the multiple sequences set in a malevolent car wash.
The justly-famous car chase scene is notable for the ferocious speed of the vehicles involved -- as they bounce through wide boulevards filled with traffic and pedestrians, they look at though they're throbbing, on the verge of exploding into a thousand pieces -- and for its unerring sense of geography that inevitably leads to a smashing climax.
The movie is far from over at that point, though, so what the car chase has done is shred your nerves in preparation for an oncoming collision of the all-too-human emotions of greed and betrayal. The ending is far darker than what one might expect from the preceding drama.
Philip D'Antoni, sitting in the director's chair for the first (and last) time after producing BULLITT and THE FRENCH CONNECTION, keeps things simple. The camera never moves in a way that calls attention to itself, but neither does it dip too far into faux documentary territory. Thus, though William Friedkin's direction of THE FRENCH CONNECTION was an unavoidable (and positive) influence, D'Antoni forges his own, workmanlike style, undoubtedly aided by cinematographer Urs Furrer (SHAFT) and supervising film editor Jerry Greenberg (THE FRENCH CONNECTION, THE TAKING OF PELHAM ONE TWO THREE, and much subsequent work).
Likewise, the performances -- from a cast that was mostly unknown at the time -- are strong without being flashily dramatic. Notable are Richard Lynch (as the blond kidnapper) and Joe Spinell (as an accomplice), both early in their film careers. In his first starring role, Scheider (post-FRENCH CONNECTION, pre-JAWS) is very effective as the steely Buddy, while Tony Lo Bianco makes the most of every scene he's in as the doubt-plagued Vito.
Bill Hickman played the other kidnapper and also was responsible for much of the staging of the chase sequence, as well as driving the lead car. Sonny Grasso (one of the two real-life cops upon whom THE FRENCH CONNECTION was based) came up with the original story and appears as a bearded courier in the first scene. Alexander Jacobs (POINT BLANK and FRENCH CONNECTION II co-scripter) and Albert Ruben (veteran television scribe) share screenwriting credit.
Set in and around New York City, the film wisely avoids familiar Manhattan locales and feels totally authentic. It was part of a string of distinctive pictures that 20th Century Fox released during 1973, including THE EMPEROR OF THE NORTH POLE, THE LAST AMERICAN HERO, GORDON'S WAR, and THE LAUGHING POLICEMAN.
The recently-released Region 1 DVD looks very good on my 26-inch monitor. The color scheme won't pop off your screen, but then it's not meant to do that. The source material appears to have been in good shape, with only occasional dirt and blemishes. The English mono track sounded fine; an English stereo track is also included, along with Spanish and French mono, closed-captioning, subtitles in English and Spanish, and both widescreen (anamorphic, 1.85:1) and full frame (modified, didn't look at it). The only extra is worth a look: a behind-the-scenes feature on the car chase sequence.
ScreenAnarchy's Logboy first wrote about the DVD here; the comments section includes an extensive list of similar-minded films recommended by readers.
