I'll skip the plot except to say that two Border Patrol agents find a horde of money in the desert, have a fight with nasties in which one agent is killed, and the survivor takes off with the stash for Mexico.
You can't help watching this without thinking of Jack Nicholson in "The Border." "The Border" is far more believable. The heavy turns out to be Nicholson's best friend. And when Nicholson tries to rescue a damsel in distress in a Mexican cat house the bouncers clobber him and throw him into the street. (There's a moral lesson there somewhere.) And the social problem dealt with is real -- illegal immigrants.
In "Flashpoint" everything is simpler. Except maybe the editing, which lost me here and there, someplace along Soledad Mountain and Thor Mountain and La Bonza Pass. Instead of commonplace human smuggling, "Flashpoint" has a Big Mystery that needs unraveling. There are James-Bond sorts of geophysical "ovulators" that are hidden in the ground and can tell when something passing is more than two feet tall.
There's very little ambiguity. We know right away which of the boys is strong and which is weak. Treat Williams comes to work drunk and the taller, older, deeper-voiced Kris Kristofferson must sober him up. And we know that Williams is the more idealistic of the two because there is a scene in which Kristofferson tells his girlfriend so. There are two women involved -- Tess Harper and Jean Smart -- and I like them because neither is staggeringly beautiful, but they really add nothing to the plot except to establish the fact that Kristofferson and Williams are not lovers themselves. The women disappear when no longer needed.
We know right away who the bad guys are too. Why? Because they LOOK bad. Kurtwood Smith. There's a name to conjure with. Like Michael Ironsides the poor guy is a die-stamped heavy. He looks like the kind of guy of whom the neighbors say, "He mostly kept to himself." His facial features are in harmony with the sentiments of an assassin. If he does nothing more than show his face he's guilty of indecent exposure. He cannot speak without sneering. He's insulting when he doesn't need to be. He's cynical and vulgar. He wears street shoes instead of boots -- and a SUIT. And of course he's a remorseless killer.
He represents a problem though, for those viewers given to trying to figure out just what the hell is going on. What is he actually DOING there? At one point he deliberately foils a drug bust. Is he there because of something to do with drugs? Evidently not, because later on he tries frantically to cover up the Big Mystery. Maybe that's his job. But in that case, why do he and his assistants show up before anyone even realizes that there is a Big Mystery to be solved? And what agency does he represent? Well, here's his explanation. Kristofferson: "Who are you?" Smith: "I'm a fixer. I fix things." Kristofferson: "What do you fix?" Smith: "Whatever needs fixing." The mind is inexorably whisked back to "The Border" because Harvey Keitel is in "The Border," and those are roughly his lines in two or three movies he's made with people like Quention Tarantino. On the other hand, similar job specs crop up pretty commonly all over the place, like chicken pox among third graders.
The acting is adequate. No more than that. There is a scene in "The Border" in which Nicholson and Keitel are leaving work and Keitel is rambling on thoughtfully about how little difference their work makes to anyone. The employers want the illegals, and the illegals want the work. Sometimes, Keitel muses, it almost seems like we're on the wrong side. At this point, Nicholson halts, half turns to Keitel, and asks, "What are you fishing for?" The scene only last thirty seconds yet it illustrates the difference between ordinary actors and very talented actors indeed. There is nothing like this scene in "Flashpoint." The lines all sound written out, and not always well. Treat Williams, who was great in "Prince of the City," is underwhelmed by the script here. He's given a joke to tell in a bar -- something about a car full of penguins -- and everyone at his table is drinking beer and flushed with laughter -- and the joke just isn't funny.
Yet the movie is engaging. Pale green Border Patrol jeeps bounce around on rough sandy desert roads. The Sonoran desert has never looked better. And Roberts Blossom as a wiry and sharp old aeronautical engineer is fun. I think the performance I most enjoyed was Rip Torn's. He's almost always good, but in the role of the sheriff he could easily pass for the home-grown Texan that he is. A real pro.
Worth seeing. No messages. A little confusing, but well paced and packed with mystery and color.
You can't help watching this without thinking of Jack Nicholson in "The Border." "The Border" is far more believable. The heavy turns out to be Nicholson's best friend. And when Nicholson tries to rescue a damsel in distress in a Mexican cat house the bouncers clobber him and throw him into the street. (There's a moral lesson there somewhere.) And the social problem dealt with is real -- illegal immigrants.
In "Flashpoint" everything is simpler. Except maybe the editing, which lost me here and there, someplace along Soledad Mountain and Thor Mountain and La Bonza Pass. Instead of commonplace human smuggling, "Flashpoint" has a Big Mystery that needs unraveling. There are James-Bond sorts of geophysical "ovulators" that are hidden in the ground and can tell when something passing is more than two feet tall.
There's very little ambiguity. We know right away which of the boys is strong and which is weak. Treat Williams comes to work drunk and the taller, older, deeper-voiced Kris Kristofferson must sober him up. And we know that Williams is the more idealistic of the two because there is a scene in which Kristofferson tells his girlfriend so. There are two women involved -- Tess Harper and Jean Smart -- and I like them because neither is staggeringly beautiful, but they really add nothing to the plot except to establish the fact that Kristofferson and Williams are not lovers themselves. The women disappear when no longer needed.
We know right away who the bad guys are too. Why? Because they LOOK bad. Kurtwood Smith. There's a name to conjure with. Like Michael Ironsides the poor guy is a die-stamped heavy. He looks like the kind of guy of whom the neighbors say, "He mostly kept to himself." His facial features are in harmony with the sentiments of an assassin. If he does nothing more than show his face he's guilty of indecent exposure. He cannot speak without sneering. He's insulting when he doesn't need to be. He's cynical and vulgar. He wears street shoes instead of boots -- and a SUIT. And of course he's a remorseless killer.
He represents a problem though, for those viewers given to trying to figure out just what the hell is going on. What is he actually DOING there? At one point he deliberately foils a drug bust. Is he there because of something to do with drugs? Evidently not, because later on he tries frantically to cover up the Big Mystery. Maybe that's his job. But in that case, why do he and his assistants show up before anyone even realizes that there is a Big Mystery to be solved? And what agency does he represent? Well, here's his explanation. Kristofferson: "Who are you?" Smith: "I'm a fixer. I fix things." Kristofferson: "What do you fix?" Smith: "Whatever needs fixing." The mind is inexorably whisked back to "The Border" because Harvey Keitel is in "The Border," and those are roughly his lines in two or three movies he's made with people like Quention Tarantino. On the other hand, similar job specs crop up pretty commonly all over the place, like chicken pox among third graders.
The acting is adequate. No more than that. There is a scene in "The Border" in which Nicholson and Keitel are leaving work and Keitel is rambling on thoughtfully about how little difference their work makes to anyone. The employers want the illegals, and the illegals want the work. Sometimes, Keitel muses, it almost seems like we're on the wrong side. At this point, Nicholson halts, half turns to Keitel, and asks, "What are you fishing for?" The scene only last thirty seconds yet it illustrates the difference between ordinary actors and very talented actors indeed. There is nothing like this scene in "Flashpoint." The lines all sound written out, and not always well. Treat Williams, who was great in "Prince of the City," is underwhelmed by the script here. He's given a joke to tell in a bar -- something about a car full of penguins -- and everyone at his table is drinking beer and flushed with laughter -- and the joke just isn't funny.
Yet the movie is engaging. Pale green Border Patrol jeeps bounce around on rough sandy desert roads. The Sonoran desert has never looked better. And Roberts Blossom as a wiry and sharp old aeronautical engineer is fun. I think the performance I most enjoyed was Rip Torn's. He's almost always good, but in the role of the sheriff he could easily pass for the home-grown Texan that he is. A real pro.
Worth seeing. No messages. A little confusing, but well paced and packed with mystery and color.