David O'ConnellThe Hit
March 27th 2009 02:38
After more than fifteen of intensive labour in the British TV industry, director Stephen Frears was just beginning to embark on a feature film career when his first great acheivement, The Hit, reached the big screen in 1984. A crime road movie set in Spain, its major asset remains the fascinating interplay between its four main characters, all distinct and compelling in their own way. Of note too are the existential undertones which creep in, offering a neat and sobering twist whilst subverting the usually nonchalant treatment of people - soulless, disposable commodities - in films of this ilk.
Terence Stamp, in one of his finest roles, is Willie Parker, a relatively small player in London’s criminal underworld who turns stool pigeon, testifying to avoid another prison term. Recriminations are sure to be severe, especially once crime lord Mr. Corrigan is released.
Jumping forward in time ten years we travel to Spain where Willie has been ensconced ever since, living under an assumed identity, whiling his time away reading spiritual texts and anything else he can get his hands on. Time is running out however and with the release of Mr. Corrigan, it’s assumed - rightfully as it turns out - that goons will be dispatched on his behalf to settle the debt of Willie’s betrayal.
A local policeman assigned to shadow Willie proves useless as the noose is tightened, and before long he’s captured by Braddock (John Hurt) and his inexperienced assistant Myron (Tim Roth). They drive to Madrid for an exchange of cars, their ultimate destination a meeting with Mr. Corrigan in Paris.
Expecting to find a vacant hotel room in Madrid they encounter jittery Australian interloper Harry (Bill Hunter), whose fear becomes palpable once he recognizes Willie, whose face has been splashed all over the local papers. One of the film’s best sequences ends with Braddock taking Harry’s young Spanish girlfriend Maggie (Laura del Sol) hostage and the four set off on a winding journey, full of unexpected developments, that never quite reaches Paris.
Stamp is commanding as Willie whose enlightenment via his extensive exploits in local libraries makes him a compelling but irritating conundrum to Braddock and Myron. His dismissive, blasé attitude to his impending fate sends waves of paranoid suspicion roaring through the duo’s heads. Willie however is simply content, insisting that he’s prepared for and unafraid of death, an occurance which he regards as the next, naturally evolving state of being.
Ignoring amble opportunities to escape or seize control of the situation, Willie is neither inclined to take advantage of these mildly incompetent criminals or assist Maggie in her own desperate struggle for freedom. Her strongest asset is her sexual allure, drawing the sympathies of the volatile, but careless, Myron like a bee to a honeypot.
Conversely, Braddock is an enigmatic hardened crim; terse and brooding, Hurt plays him with an appropriately ruthless detachment, though he finds it increasingly difficult to disguise his horrid fascination with Willie’s outlook and chirpy demeanor the closer they inch towards Paris.
Roth is excellent as the bleached-blonde Myron in what was his feature film debut. At first glimpse he seems crude and sociopathic but his ignorance and waywardness expose them later on, his attraction to Maggie another dangerous distraction. His need to vent his frustration with puerile bursts of reckless violence is a problem too as carelessness leads to clues being scattered in their wake, a traveling sideshow of local detectives on their trail like relentless hounds and closing fast.
Now seemingly forgotten amongst the body of work Frears has amassed in the intervening years, The Hit remains a richly rewarding, thoroughly underrated minor masterpiece, full of flavourful touches and an hypnotic turn from Stamp. Willie Parker's philosophical outlook somehow translates him into a formidable screen presence, one of Stamp's more memorable creations and a personal favourite too, alongside the unforgettable Wilson from Steven Soderbergh’s The Limey.
Terence Stamp, in one of his finest roles, is Willie Parker, a relatively small player in London’s criminal underworld who turns stool pigeon, testifying to avoid another prison term. Recriminations are sure to be severe, especially once crime lord Mr. Corrigan is released.
Jumping forward in time ten years we travel to Spain where Willie has been ensconced ever since, living under an assumed identity, whiling his time away reading spiritual texts and anything else he can get his hands on. Time is running out however and with the release of Mr. Corrigan, it’s assumed - rightfully as it turns out - that goons will be dispatched on his behalf to settle the debt of Willie’s betrayal.
A local policeman assigned to shadow Willie proves useless as the noose is tightened, and before long he’s captured by Braddock (John Hurt) and his inexperienced assistant Myron (Tim Roth). They drive to Madrid for an exchange of cars, their ultimate destination a meeting with Mr. Corrigan in Paris.
Expecting to find a vacant hotel room in Madrid they encounter jittery Australian interloper Harry (Bill Hunter), whose fear becomes palpable once he recognizes Willie, whose face has been splashed all over the local papers. One of the film’s best sequences ends with Braddock taking Harry’s young Spanish girlfriend Maggie (Laura del Sol) hostage and the four set off on a winding journey, full of unexpected developments, that never quite reaches Paris.
Stamp is commanding as Willie whose enlightenment via his extensive exploits in local libraries makes him a compelling but irritating conundrum to Braddock and Myron. His dismissive, blasé attitude to his impending fate sends waves of paranoid suspicion roaring through the duo’s heads. Willie however is simply content, insisting that he’s prepared for and unafraid of death, an occurance which he regards as the next, naturally evolving state of being.
Ignoring amble opportunities to escape or seize control of the situation, Willie is neither inclined to take advantage of these mildly incompetent criminals or assist Maggie in her own desperate struggle for freedom. Her strongest asset is her sexual allure, drawing the sympathies of the volatile, but careless, Myron like a bee to a honeypot.
Conversely, Braddock is an enigmatic hardened crim; terse and brooding, Hurt plays him with an appropriately ruthless detachment, though he finds it increasingly difficult to disguise his horrid fascination with Willie’s outlook and chirpy demeanor the closer they inch towards Paris.
Roth is excellent as the bleached-blonde Myron in what was his feature film debut. At first glimpse he seems crude and sociopathic but his ignorance and waywardness expose them later on, his attraction to Maggie another dangerous distraction. His need to vent his frustration with puerile bursts of reckless violence is a problem too as carelessness leads to clues being scattered in their wake, a traveling sideshow of local detectives on their trail like relentless hounds and closing fast.
Now seemingly forgotten amongst the body of work Frears has amassed in the intervening years, The Hit remains a richly rewarding, thoroughly underrated minor masterpiece, full of flavourful touches and an hypnotic turn from Stamp. Willie Parker's philosophical outlook somehow translates him into a formidable screen presence, one of Stamp's more memorable creations and a personal favourite too, alongside the unforgettable Wilson from Steven Soderbergh’s The Limey.
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