Friday 1 August 2008

In the Line of Fire (1993)

I have a very soft spot for Clint Eastwood and have always thought that there was more to him as an actor than those critics who dismissed his early minimalist style.  He was never show-offy as so many more highly rated actors, but always came across as very real.  It has also been gratifying to see his growth as a director, to the stage where he is now revered as one of the grand old men of cinema -- and he shows no signs of slowing down either.  Long may he wave!

Although he has done it often, it can not be easy directing yourself, and after the early 90's outings of Unforgiven and The Bridges of Madison County, his lead roles in the subsequent self-directed Absolute Power (1997), True Crime (1999), and Blood Work (2002) do not rank among his best work.  Fortunately here he is directed by the very able Wolfgang Peterson and the character he plays is well-rounded, sympathetic, and very believable.  As a long-term secret service agent who still regrets not being able to have saved President Kennedy, he asks to be put back on the protective rosters when there is a threat to assassinate the current president.  While he and we know that he is too old for this work -- his puffing running alongside the presidential limo demonstrates this, he feels that preventing another death would be his redemption.  The would-be killer, played by a cerebral John Malkovich, enjoys playing his cat-and-mouse games with Eastwood and gets as much pleasure from taunting him as he hopes to get from the ultimate kill.

Malkovich was deservedly nominated for a best-supporting actor role and plays a worthy adversary for Eastwood's brittle world-weariness.  The only minor problem is that Malkovich is meant to be playing a master of disguise and in every single appearance he looks exactly like John Malkovich!  But this is a very minor quibble in what is a well-paced and genuinely exciting story; even Eastwood's dalliance with younger agent Rene Russo comes across as a romance that cheers the viewer -- we genuinely wish this jaded, piano-tinkling loner some happiness. 

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