spies, assassins, and a half-breed renegade

the Bourne Legacy: (2012. dir: Tony Gilroy) The chase scene at the climax is so long and repetitive as to be a real snoozer, which is a downright shame, since the rest of it is surprisingly good: well-acted, intelligently written, with quiet, unspoken chemistry between the leads and a lot of suspense.

the Eiger Sanction: (1975. dir: Clint Eastwood) Clint Eastwood's entry into the '70s assassin/spy genre, an exalted field including Three Days of the Condor, the Eye of the Needle, the Eagle Has Landed, and Day of the Jackal. Laughably misogynist, clumsily written, clunkily paced, it lacks both the gravitas and grace necessary to fit in well with its compadres. The middle chunk was filmed in Monument Valley, which is why we watched it, but those scenes are no better filmed than the too-darkly-lit-without-being-noirishly-cool indoor scenes. The spy story makes no sense at all, and the adventure story is so slow by our current standards as to play as a leisurely amble. And yet, somehow, there is some kind of ungainly charm about it. (To give it its due, the second unit shots from the helicopter are very good, and George Kennedy gives an enthusiastic performance.)

Something about Eastwood as a director: when he is off his game, as he often is and as he is here, there is a feeling that the story is badly told only because his impatience to tell it outweighed his attention to detail (like a well-written script, well-lighted scenes, dynamic pacing, etc), and so we tend, against all common sense and standard operating procedure, to forgive him. For the love of god, why do we do it? Our madness must stop.

Navajo Joe: (1966. dir: Sergio Corbucci) This is the only spaghetti western I’ve ever seen in which the hero is sexy. (In fact, I’m hard-pressed to think of one in which anyone at all is sexy.) (OK, other than Claudia Cardinale; you got me there.) Burt Reynolds, --young, athletic, straight off the gridiron,-- is smoldering hot as a half-breed (everyone in this film who is not weak is half-breed: hero, heroine, and villain) wreaking vengeance on a bloodthirsty band of outlaws in recompense for the murder of his entire village.

The action launches right in sans preamble, and although the lines (and, god knows, the dubbing) are generally cumbersome and sometimes risible, it’s still an evolving art (this is 1966) and Sergio Corbucci (Django, the Great Silence)finds some good moments playing with camera angles and letting his hero lurk omnisciently. It’s got all the de rigeur bits: there's one where Navajo Joe (who has his own, really ridiculous theme song with his name sung over and over, while the rest of the music is the kind of Morricone you expect and desire) throws down his weapon to save the heroine, and you're wondering why until you realize it’s because it's time for the requisite now-we-kick-the-shit-out-of-you scene. Awesome stuff.