The definitive message behind the enthralling but dreary The Friends of Eddie Coyle, which stars an aged Robert Mitchum as a career small-time criminal, is that crime does not pay.
Far from the usual glamorized Hollywood image of criminals, everyone here is a snitch, a backstabber, a thief or about to go down with barely a penny to their name. It's a tough, unsentimental look at the world of crime, the shots are somewhat bleak and harshly lit, and even the action sequences, while still tense, are non-stylized.
Mitchum, who I adore in anything, is superb as the weary and desperate Coyle. Director Peter Yates, whose resume is uneven (he helmed the iconic Bullitt, the weird Mother, Juggs and Speed and Krull but later served time on a sentimental D.B. Sweeney vehicle), is also at his best.
The film is based on a best selling novel by George V Huggins, who was a major influence on James Ellroy.
John Boorman's grave take on the Arthurian legend,
Director
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Truth be told, it's been quite awhile since I've been smitten with Mr. Tarantino. I know people love his recent films, but
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Werner Herzog makes it clear early on that 
In 1980 Playboy model Dorothy Stratten was brutally murdered by her husband who then shot himself. It is the kind of tragic and salacious story that has spawned recreations in the true crime television genre of today, but surprisingly, it was Bob Fosse, fresh off his fame of All That Jazz that originally took up the story for a feature film called
I put on the 1960 documentary