The early '70s was a goldmine for Los Angeles noir, as the city matured and the independent film came along for the ride. On the surface, this film is a great example: a complex, almost viscerally intuitive plot, excellent cinematography, decent and often interesting direction and editing, and like so many films shot during this period in Los Angeles, a kind of pre-nostalgia for the often-dark place that was disappearing, and turning into something even worse, a place of mindless, impersonal violence, with the bland corporate character of the late 20th century.
That said, the film suffers from perhaps being too understated, and certainly too nihilistic. Fans of Walter Hill might take issue, but this is a problem I have with most of his films; while they might be visually interesting and often brilliant, they are so hopeless as to make one wonder, as the characters in this film do aloud, what the point is. In this film there are two survivors, the title characters; nearly every other character is killed or so one-dimensionally hateful that it renders the conclusion quite unsatisfying. I especially felt the lack of character permitted to Cosby and Culp; while they were certainly playing against their debonair banter in "I Spy" on purpose, Hill's screenplay renders them so oppressed and silent that they are almost outside the story, like some existential Pinter characters dropped in to intentionally find the rock-bottom. It was a valiant effort, but after the final carnage, I found it so pointless and yet a clear sign where Hill was going, into a glamorous, beautiful world of violence for its own sake.
That said, the film suffers from perhaps being too understated, and certainly too nihilistic. Fans of Walter Hill might take issue, but this is a problem I have with most of his films; while they might be visually interesting and often brilliant, they are so hopeless as to make one wonder, as the characters in this film do aloud, what the point is. In this film there are two survivors, the title characters; nearly every other character is killed or so one-dimensionally hateful that it renders the conclusion quite unsatisfying. I especially felt the lack of character permitted to Cosby and Culp; while they were certainly playing against their debonair banter in "I Spy" on purpose, Hill's screenplay renders them so oppressed and silent that they are almost outside the story, like some existential Pinter characters dropped in to intentionally find the rock-bottom. It was a valiant effort, but after the final carnage, I found it so pointless and yet a clear sign where Hill was going, into a glamorous, beautiful world of violence for its own sake.