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Monday, 27 April 2009
The Gauntlet
The Gauntlet, a minor Clint action policer immediately notable for the dour slant it places on the lot of wild card detectives. Eastwood is Ben Shockley, a washed up beat cop, saddled with a cross country babysitting assignment. The mission is dressed up by his lizardy superiors with reams of complimentary double-talk. Shockley is flattered, told he is trusted and valued. Music to this burnout. Of course it's a crap shot. Sondra Locke plays the escortee, a mob witness and college grad hooker. Locke's initial disgust with Eastwood eventually matures into a beneficial codependency. She saves him as often as he saves her.
Action in Gauntlet is that of ever escalating demolition. Rather than grit-teethed firearms exchanges, we have protracted sequences of law armies riddling inert objects bloated with lead. The effect is dizzying. A central gambling conceit that underpins Locke and Eastwood's hapless adventure lends Gauntlet a future shocked vibe that reverberates throughout the film. Cities are rendered as empty, sun-bleached concrete landscapes, crawling with leathery insect cops. The briefly glimpsed countryside is lawless; notionally abandoned to hepcat bikers and their sex assault urges. Law seems to be pooling in the brutalist city castles, turning on their own as the lustful deviancies of the elites are uncovered.
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