The Hot Rock (1972, Peter Yates)

61/100

So this is more or less the movie that I mistakenly thought, for roughly its first half, that Kelly Reichardt was (rather badly) trying to make with The Mastermind: a lighthearted, consistently-amusing-if-not-quite-actively-funny caper comedy in which everything keeps going wrong for the thieves. Donald Westlake and/or William Goldman (more likely the former) has given The Hot Rock an offbeat structure that distinguishes it even from other films of this type, with the goal—stealing a particular diamond from the Brooklyn Museum—ostensibly achieved quite early, except that complications force the team to keep re-acquiring/-stealing it. Ultimately, there are four extended heist sequences, all of which involve getting that damn diamond. This makes the first effort (at the museum), which had seemed a bit bland to me while it was in progress, seem more entertaining in hindsight, and builds to a wonderfully unexpected finale that's like Wages of Fear's denouement minus the tragic irony. That jaunty stroll also helps to retroactively clarify Redford's performance, revealing just how much anxiety Dortmunder had barely been concealing beneath his apparent sangfroid. (It's so perfect that I felt unduly annoyed by the last few seconds, which needlessly and counter-productively show us Dortmunder meeting up with Kelp. I guess that's there to ensure we don't wonder whether Dortmunder double-crosses the others, but why would we? Not his style.)

Without having read the novel*, I can't be sure who to blame for the rampant quirkiness that irked me for a while (and then mostly disappeared). It definitely has a Goldman-esque quality—he had an unfortunate tendency to get overly sweaty about losing the audience's attention—but I'm not sure that he'd have been comfortable inventing, just for example, the random bit that introduces Murch listening to recorded engine sounds from the Daytona Speedway with his mother, who's also super-keen on that pastime. Uh-huh. Westlake or Goldman, doesn't matter, either dramatically alter the overall tone or get it away from me. Similarly, the museum heist very nearly lost me altogether when it's briefly paused so that Dortmunder can counsel Kelp through his lack of self-confidence, both men knowing full well that the distraction Murch and Greenberg have engineered won't keep every guard occupied indefinitely. Just way too cute for my taste (much like, say, Butch and Sundance trading smart-ass quips right before they're clearly going to die), which reflects my opinion of Goldman attempting comedy/wit in general. (Princess Bride's okay—his broad sensibility works well for a spoof of children's literature.) And I'd argue that all the glib goofiness makes what Redford's doing harder to appreciate, creating the impression that he's acting in a different movie than his co-stars. This is the rare case of a film that I liked more and more as it went along to some degree precisely because it got less and less funny, without ever exactly becoming what you'd call serious. Maybe knowing that Yates's very next film was the grimly powerful Friends of Eddie Coyle (one of all my all-time faves), and having seen only Bullitt of his half-dozen previous features, created certain expectations that Hot Rock couldn't possibly meet, since it wasn't even trying to compete in the same arena. Good but slight, I'd deem it.

* I've heard the album a zillion times, though. "A Quarter to Three" 4-ever.