One Paragraph Movie Review: The French Connection

One hundred and sixty-second film: The French Connection. I bloody love a 70s cop movie, once I get past the racism, sexism, terrible hair and overwhelming brownness. The things that make this particular 70s cop movie unique are its car-versus-train chase scene, its juxtaposition of gritty New York with pale, urbane Marseille, and its thoroughly unsatisfying ending. Gene Hackman’s pork pie hat and reckless disregard for protocol distinguishes him nicely from Roy Scheider’s comparatively reserved and handsome sidekick, and no punches are pulled at all when identifying the villains, as they’re basically anyone foreign. The only thing I didn’t believe was that you could put a thoroughly ruined car back together within four hours, and that the attendance of that many men is necessary for a quick afternoon heroin deal. The joy of a cliched ‘POLICE, YOU’RE SURROUNDED, COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP’ moment is unparalleled, though. Three trashed commandeered cars out of five.