“The Friends Of Eddie Coyle” (1973)
An adaptation of a novel by George V. Higgins, who wrote “Cogan’s Trade,” the source material for Andrew Dominik’s “Killing Them Softly,” Peter Yates‘ terminally undervalued film was only middlingly received on release, but partly thanks to a Criterion release, its reputation has only grown and grown over time. Mitchum, in one of his greatest performances, plays the titular Eddie, a lifelong criminal with many years inside, who’s left facing another stretch after being caught for gun-running. Desperate to avoid prison, he reluctantly turns stool-pigeon, but he’s quickly found out, with friend and bar owner Dillon (Peter Boyle, equally superb) tasked with the hit, and his law enforcement pals apathetic about his survival. It’s a bleak, low-key film, not the kind of thing that suspense is usually made of, and it’s pretty clear from the off that Coyle isn’t going to be long for this world. But the trade-off is for a marvelous authenticity; Higgins was a crime reporter and deputy U.S. attorney, and clearly knew his Boston underworld setting back-to-front, and Paul Monash’s script is wonderfully terse in its rat-a-tat dialogue. More than anything else, there’s a heavy sadness that weighs over the film that means that, while it’s not the most pulse-pounding crime picture you’ll ever see, it lingers long afterwards. And among a cast of character actor greats like Richard Jordan and Alex Rocco, it’s Mitchum who’s right at the center — slow, dignified and hangdog, it’s a magnificent performance, and one inseparable from the film around it.
“The Yakuza” (1974)
Japanese-set, or influenced, action movies have become all the rage over the years, but few have been as smart, or detailed, or centered on such a great performance, as “The Yakuza.” Penned by a screenwriting dream team of Paul & Leonard Schrader (who sold their first screenplay for a then-record sum), and Robert Towne, and directed by Sidney Pollack (though only after Mitchum had Robert Aldrich fired), it sees the star play Harry Kilmer, a retired cop and military policeman, who served in Japan at the end of the war, who does a favor for an old friend (Brian Keith) and offers to track down his daughter, who’s been kidnapped by the Yakuza in Japan. His return to Tokyo draws him back into the orbit of both the woman he once loved (Keiko Kishi), and her brother (Ken Takakura), a former Yakuza member. More noir than shoot-em up, but featuring some strong action sequences nevertheless, the film’s occasionally a little clumsy in its culture-clash, but for the most part it’s steeped in a genuine respect for Japanese culture, arguably much more so than a later movie like “Black Rain.” Mitchum’s at his most grizzled and fierce here too, showing that even in his late 50s he could kick ass with the best of them, but it’s his semi-requited relationship that gives the film an elegaic, tragic note that elevates it above similar fare.
“Farewell My Lovely” (1975)
Nearly thirty years after his initial foray into Chandleresque detective story/film noir with the sublime “Out of the Past,” Mitchum got the first of two chances to play the real deal, with Dick Richards‘ version of Chandler’s “Farewell My Lovely.” The second, Michael Winner‘s “The Big Sleep” would come three years later and be roughly a third as good, but it’s still worth noting that of all actors who essayed Philip Marlowe, even Humphrey Bogart, only Mitchum played the role twice. ‘Farewell’ is not the best film here, but it is one of the most interesting, a 1970s riff on 1940s noir after the manner of “Chinatown,” but never quite attaining that depth. In fact the levels it does boast are almost all due to the cast, especially Mitchum, who somehow parlays what should be a negative (at 58 he was significantly older than Marlowe as written by Chandler) into one of the most compelling aspects of the film: that air of weary brokenness, that look of a man who’s seen so much of life that it holds no more surprises, just disgust. Elsewhere an unbelievably gorgeous Charlotte Rampling is perfectly cast as the kind of femme fatale that men would happily die, or kill, for (and great pulp author Jim Thompson cameos as her aging husband), while Harry Dean Stanton and Sylvester Stallone enliven small supporting roles. Mostly though it’s a slow-paced yarn that wouldn’t quite have enough meat on its bones were it not for Mitchum’s effortlessly watchable turn — whatever about his acting, he was always one of the greatest re-actors, and so much goes on here as just a flicker in his eye or a tiny twist of his lips.
Honorable Mentions: We could probably go on for hours talking about great Mitchum performances that could have made the list, but to keep it brief, there are a few others that deserve particular shout-outs. “Crossfire” is a 1947 film noir atypically dealing with a real social issue in its anti-semitism themes, which along with Mitchum’s hardboiled turn and Robert Ryan‘s more deranged performance, elevated this B-movie to Best Picture nominee. Nicholas Ray’s 1952 rodeo picture Western “The Lusty Men” is almost as great as its title, and has an archetypal Mitchum blend of unfiltered masculinity and unexpected vulnerability. 1957 film “The Enemy Below” is something of a seminal submarine picture, as Mitchum faces off against German U-boat captain Curt Jurgens.
Sticking with WW2, the star was a stand-out in the epic, glittering cast of 1962’s D-Day landing dramatization “The Longest Day,” as Brigadier General Norman Cota, who leads the Omaha Beach assault that would be immortalized in Spielberg’s “Saving Private Ryan,” though the film is too much of a sprawling ensemble piece to figure in here. The third of his three pictures with Deborah Kerr, “The Grass is Greener” which also stars Cary Grant and Jean Simmons is a slight but fizzy comedy characterized by a witty, sophisticated script and typically bouncy direction by Stanley Donen. Howard Hawks’ 1966 film “El Dorado” isn’t quite as great as “Rio Bravo,” to which it’s very similar, but it’s certainly superior to “Rio Lobo,” which closed out the strange trilogy of Hawks/John Wayne Westerns with the same premise, and that’s in large part thanks to Mitchum, as a drunken sheriff. And finally, there’s Jim Jarmusch’s “Dead Man,” in which he plays an industrialist. It’s a bold and adventurous move for an actor like him to appear in an offbeat picture like this one, but it paid off: It’s Jarmusch’s best movie, and a tremendous final big-screen performance for the actor.