I’ve mentioned previously in this space that I once toiled—briefly, ever so briefly—as a store clerk and later assistant manager for the giant video rental behemoth Blockbuster in a Savannah store the better part of fifteen years ago. I ended up having to quit this job, which was kind of a shame—I’ve never been better prepared for a job thanks to my lifelong love affair with movies but it was a little too high-pressure for me. (I have long held a theory that if you wake up night after night after dreaming that you’re still working in the store it’s time to find a new vocation.)

I always had problems recommending films to customers. Heaven knows I tried my best, but my tastes never seem to gel with that of our clientele, who were the type to squeal: “Cool! Red Heat with Arnold Schwarzenegger!” I once suggested that a customer rent Errol Morris’ landmark The Thin Blue Line (1988) only to have him return and chew me out because “there was nothin’ but talkin’ in it.” I do remember one customer who would come in and we would chat about movies (he liked a lot of the classic stuff, as did I) but management rode me out about that because “he keeps you from completing your work.”

So, as a rule, I’m equally wary of recommendations from friends and family members when it comes to movies. I’ve lost count how many times my sister Kat has raved about a particular film and begged me to see it only to find myself incredibly disappointed. Every now and then I’ll get a winner—my Tampa friend Jeff told me that I would definitely like O Brother, Where Are Thou? (2000), and I did, enormously so. Which sort of brings me to the rationale for this post (I apologize for not taking the short cut); several friends of mine have told me that I should check out Thief (1981), and so I relented last night. I’m glad I did.

Frank (James Caan) is a career thief who generally works alone but is anxious to make a big score for himself and new wife Tuesday Weld, so he allows himself to be recruited by a crime boss (Robert Prosky) into taking a job that will net him over $800,000. He soon discovers, much to his dismay, that he’s become a magnet for both corrupt cops and ruthless mob "businessmen"—I love how this film echoes one of my favorite noirs, Force of Evil (1948) with its “crime equals capitalism” theme. (Thief is also similar to the classic The Asphalt Jungle [1950] in its emphasis on the preparations involved in the heist and its examination of professional men—one could even call it a blueprint for director Michael Mann’s later Heat [1995].) Caan gives—and I hope I’m not exaggerating here—the performance of his career, and I’m always in Weld’s corner (her character here reminds me of the wife she plays in the underrated Who’ll Stop the Rain? [1978]), but there’s also superlative performances from Prosky, Jim Belushi and Willie Nelson (in a small but memorable role as Caan’s imprisoned mentor). Ex-cop-turned-actor Dennis Farina also made his film debut in this movie, and would later work alongside director Mann as the star of Crime Story, a classic crime series that unfortunately fizzled out after its freshman season. Michael Mann, in addition to his directing duties, also served as executive producer and wrote the story and screenplay which was based on Frank Hohimer’s The Home Invaders—considered by many to be the “Bible” of burglary.

After Thief, I saddled up with The Long Riders (1980)—a Western directed by Walter Hill who is another favorite of mine, with films like the neo-noir The Driver (1978) and cult fave The Warriors (1979) to his credit. (And yes, I am aware that he also directed the aforementioned Red Heat; hey, a man's gotta eat.) The story of the infamous James-Younger outlaw gang is told in this film, and the movie is unique in that it showcases actors James and Stacy Keach as Jesse and Frank James; David, Keith and Robert Carradine as Cole, Jim and Bob Younger; Randy and Dennis Quaid as Clell and Ed Miller; and Nicholas and Christopher Guest as Bob and Charlie Ford. Sure, it seems like stunt casting—but it works splendidly (the Keaches also served as executive producers and co-wrote the screenplay). It’s not a classic in the vein of, say, Red River (1948) or The Searchers (1956), but in an era where Hollywood Westerns are few and far between and great ones even scarcer it manages to deliver the goods. Riders also features a solid Ry Cooder score and sensational support from Pamela Reed (an actress whose ground treadings I worship, she’s top-notch as Belle [Shirley] Starr), James Remar, Harry Carey, Jr., Shelby Leverington, James Whitmore, Jr., Fran Ryan and Savannah Smith-Boucher.
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