Magnum Force
1971âs Dirty Harry remains arguably the finest crime drama ever produced and is certainly the single best film of Clint Eastwoodâs storied career. Telling the story of a tough cop whose methods of law enforcement bordered on being nearly vigilante like, the film also made a point that the Harry Callahan characterâs forceful behavior was more of a âspecial caseâ scenario given what he was up against, a warped, perverted serial killer with no regard for human life whatsoever and even less for the easily manipulated legal system that allowed him to roam free committing further acts of twisted evil. Nevertheless, the outcry from the more left wing factions out there was near deafening, blasting Harry as being a facist, corrupt cop who was seemingly glorified in the context of the film itself even as the whole effort successfully raised questions about what tactics were necessary in order to protect society from those who were sick and smart enough to turn the populace into lambs for the slaughter and literally get away with it as well. Eastwood had certainly heard and understood those complaints and when the time came for the sequel in 1973, he managed to come up with something that not only expanded upon the themes of the raw masterpiece that was the original, he also made a follow up that shockingly had ideas that still remain relevant today in the aftermath of the recent class warfare struggle in our country. The film begins with a notorious mobster strolling out of court after having his latest case against him thrown out. An unpopular decision to be sure as there is literally a lynch mob of unhappy protesters outside still calling for his head as the criminal climbs into his limo and drives away. Minutes later, the limo is pulled over by an unseen motorcycle traffic cop for what seems to be a minor infraction. As the mobsters relax and laugh and joke about having the young cop fired, suddenly the officer pulls his piece and with precision crack timing shoots all four men in the head, killing them instantly before they ever knew what hit them. It is then that Eastwoodâs Callahan is brought into the story along with his new partner (Felton Perry, best remembered as the happy go lucky corporate executive Johnson in all three Robocop films) and commanding officer (Hal Holbrook), a man who proudly proclaims that heâs never had to draw his service revolver in his entire career but yet somehow has still reached the rank of police lieutenant through the usual ass kissing political channels. Callahan thinks little of the four dead scumbags that he sees, but then more and more there are other notorious criminals being taken out in the city by apparent shooters who look like traffic cops but yet are so precise in their ability that they never seem to waste a bullet. When the truth comes out, itâs possibly more frightening than could be imagined: an unofficial subdivision of four rookie cops within the department (David Soul, Robert Urich, Tim Matheson, and Kip Niven), all of whom are trained killers recruited for the department out of Special Forces military service, have decided that the only way to bring justice to the criminals who always get away with it is through highly planned and well executed deadly ambushes. Worse, they declare that they are only STARTING with the famous criminals so that the âpeople will understand what we are doingâ and that they also plan to move on to other lower level undesirables in an effort to âcleanseâ our society, all stated with such scary clear eyed conviction that this is almost like a mission from God to them with the declaration that this ânew wayâ that they are pioneering makes them the âfirst generationâ and that many more from where they came from are being brought up and groomed to replenish and expand their ranks. And of course when it comes to Callahan (whose shoot first reputation they are all aware of and thus almost makes him someone whom they look up to), the inevitable offer is made for him to join their ranks which just absolutely reeks of irony given the far leftâs unfavorable assessment of him from the first film. Callahan however does know the difference between using violence to maintain the peace and cold blooded murder, so naturally he tells them no, drawing their wrath in the process even as we witness a couple of unrelated action scenes throughout where a number of gun wielding scumbag criminals threatening innocent lives are dispatched to the afterlife with the help of Harryâs .44 magnum. Eastwood obviously knew that he had a strong story on his hands fashioned by screenwriters John Milius and future Oscar winner Michael Cimino, but he also clashed often on set with credited journeyman director Ted Post, reputedly telling him how he was going to make HIS movie and also hurting Postâs future career prospects in doing so. The film is at times more unremittingly gory and nasty than the first one, with untold bloody bullet hits, a woman suffering a screaming death falling from a high rise building, and an especially unsettling bit where a pimp (soon to be just another victim of the vigilante killer cops) murders the hooker under his thumb (future Oscar Nominee Margaret Avery) by forcibly pouring Drano down her throat as she chokes and dies horribly. The nature of this brutal murder shown onscreen (followed shortly by his own execution during a traffic stop a couple of minutes later) calls into question the possible validity of such brutal and final methods being used on the lower ends of our society (even as we debate on whether Black Lives or Cop Lives matter the most) which is made even more prevalent by the (deliberate?) mainstreamed spreading of heroin in our country where many possible future welfare and endless probation cases can just stick a needle in their arm and thus begin the inevitable countdowns to their own unnatural demises and you can see that the so called âNew Orderâ presented in the film (with the mandatory high ranking levels of protection from prosecution) could rapidly become a thing of reality complete with little to no sympathy for their intended victims whatsoever. Callahan is quick to point out the foolishness of this thinking by noting the slippery slope it could lead to where people could one day wind up being murdered for next to nothing while still conceding that he does hate the current system but that nobody has yet to come up with any better ideas and thus he will reluctantly continue to honor it, all of which are substantially good philosophical arguments which successfully counterbalance those who continue to lash out at the series (and the Harry character in particular) for being ultra far right wing drivel. The story does step a bit wrong with the poorly developed subplot about Harryâs old friend on the force (Mitchell Ryan) being on the verge of mental and emotional collapse from work related stress to the point where he is near suicidal (and Harry even suspects him as being one of the killers) made even more uncomfortable by him going to visit his friendâs estranged wife whereupon she throws herself at him in an unsuccessful seduction attempt (much of this portion of the movie could have been trimmed down) but we also get Harry establishing a real romance with his cute Asian neighbor girl at his apartment building (where everyone there knows him as âthe cop who lives upstairsâ) that certainly works at humanizing him more unlike the cold, robotic, emotionless killer cops whose overall moral and ethical stance is utterly ruined by their willingness to also slaughter semi innocent people (mostly female prostitutes) who just so happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with the intended criminal targets. So while not necessarily better than its unforgettable original, this is still a strong sequel that manages to turn the endless debates about the first movie onto its ear by presenting Harry being offered the temptation to practice law enforcement in such a way that perhaps he has always dreamed of only to reinforce his good guy credibility by showing us that he does indeed know the difference between right and wrongâŚ
8/10