The Mechanic is available on limited edition Blu-ray from Twilight Time as of June 10th, 2014 and until they sell out!
The Mechanic (1972) is a special film for me. A bit of a watershed experience. It just so happens that The Mechanic was one of the first two films I ever rented on Netflix (The other was The Hills Have Eyes… and I was a pretty early adopter, so this was probably 2002 or 2003). This may not sound like a big deal, especially among those of us who did grow up in video stores. But to me Netflix symbolized a new opportunity for exploration… I could pay a flat rate and get as many movies as I could squeeze into a month’s worth of watching and shipping. And I really got started on a long love affair with ’70s cinema, and Charles Bronson, through this first viewing of The Mechanic. This new wonder called Netflix allowed me to start exploring directors, actors, eras, and subgenres, and The Mechanic marked one of my first and favorite discoveries utilizing this new service.
An aging hitman befriends a young man who wants to be a professional killer. Eventually it becomes clear that someone has betrayed them.
I like everything in The Mechanic. Sure, there are some weak elements; some quirks or imperfections. But this is an example of cinema that falls so clearly within the bounds of “stuff I love” that it feels almost as if The Mechanic was made for me. From the iconic visage of Charlie Bronson, complete with a beautiful mane of shaggy ’70s hair, to the period setting with shag carpets and opulent villas filled with dark wood and brick, to the cold, calculated pace and meanness of the action. But with all of that style and tone, which I am admittedly predisposed to enjoying, The Mechanic also tells a cracking and timeless yarn filled with brilliant storytelling technique and filmmaking craft.
I remember how thoroughly the famous opening sequence drew me in on my first viewing of the film, and nothing changed this time. We meet Bronson’s Arthur Bishop amidst a bravura 16 minute sequence featuring no dialog. This master assassin is planning an intricate kill in which an entire story is told visually. Today this sequence would literally be told in a montage, but in 1972 every detail was treated as a new reveal. The crafting of Bronson’s plan is gripping and is allowed to play out beautifully over 16 full minutes. A bold example of “show don’t tell” as a filmmaking principle, because we learn all that we need to about Arthur Bishop in this sequence while simultaneously being thrilled and intrigued.
Bishop is a cold, calculated man. He enjoys the simple things in life, such as a great wine and an opulent home. But when it comes to his work, he is strictly professional; fine tuning his skill set, practicing martial arts and staying sharp. Each hit must be undetectable, flawless. He takes his time, he works alone, and he gets the job done. So of course the complications of the film arise when he takes on a young apprentice, the young son of his good friend Harry (who also happens to have been his latest victim). Played by Jan Michael-Vincent in the film’s weakest link from a performance perspective, Steve McKenna is a brash prick who also has the skills and the cold heart needed to cut it as a killer.
Throughout the middle section of the film Bishop trains Steve in the ways of death dealing, even if it upsets The Organization for which they work. This section allows for some great gun play and intrigue including scuba diving, a trek to Italy, a comedically-laced motorcycle chase, and so on. This is an action film, after all, and the car crashes and shoot-outs won’t disappoint. This master-student dynamic also introduces a new element of conflict as Steve’s competitive and lustful personality become a wedge between our wicked heroes.
The way the story plays out is something I’ll save for folks who are intrigued by the movie and haven’t seen it yet. There are surprises and shocks throughout the movie, not the least of which being the remarkably cruel and cold characters that we follow in this PG-rated film.
Cinematographer Richard H. Kline (Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Body Heat) is interviewed on the film’s commentary track by historian Nick Redman and one can see why. The camera work in The Mechanic is at times sweeping, at times as calculated as the film’s protagonists, and always capturing the great Bronson in the coolest ways imaginable. Action filmmaking titan Michael Winner directed the film and collaborated often with Bronson, most famously in the Death Wish trilogy of films. His commitment to a quiet soul running throughout the trappings of an action film make The Mechanic stand out (and stand the test of time, long past the styles and fashions on screen faded into quaintness). And Bronson himself adds another character to his repertoire of tough guys that always get the job done, and are always the coolest cat in the room.
Remade with Jason Statham in the lead and Ben Foster as the protege, The Mechanic (2011) is a film I’ve quickly forgotten about, and found myself disappointed in from the moment I saw it. Eschewing much of the mean, methodical tone of the first film, it just felt like another generic entry into a long line of modern action films that have little commitment to vision beyond a thrill or two and your $10 in the studios pockets. I should probably visit it again someday before ripping it apart here, since I don’t honestly remember much of anything about it beyond my feelings of disappointment. But I bring the remake up because of just how fully The Mechanic (1972) etched itself into my consciousness when I first took it in, and how beautifully it holds up now. Had remake director Simon West had the commitment to vision and cold-heartedness that Winner and team had in crafting their film, maybe a worthy, updated remake could have stood along the time tested original. But Bronson’s The Mechanic reigns supreme as one of the great stoic hitman films of all time.
The Package
When I saw that The Mechanic was being released on limited edition Blu-ray, it quickly became the most exciting title (for me) that Twilight Time had upcoming. Between this and The Driver, Twilight Time could stop releasing Blu-rays all together and I’d still thank my lucky stars that they’d existed and released these two action classics that would otherwise never have made the leap to Blu-ray. And this disc does not disappoint.
The film looks fantastic. Nothing suits high definition better than Charles Bronson’s craggy visage. And since the film shot entirely on location, you get 1970s LA and 1970s Italy in all their glory as well. Then throw in exciting chase scenes and shoot outs, and Kline’s masterful cinematography, and you have a visual feast.
The aforementioned commentary track is one of the only other features beyond Twilight Time’s signature Isolated Score track and the original theatrical trailer. But that commentary is absolutely wonderful. Nick Redman does an excellent job of coaxing interesting stories and insights from the 88 year old Kline, who is sharp as a tack and still working! Kline had a long working relationship and friendship with both Winner and Bronson, so his insight is unique and well worth a listen. It is on this commentary where I learned that the incredible opening sequence is 16 minutes long, and that the film was shot entirely on location without the use of any sets. Kline also repeatedly points out the staging of many of the scenes and how he and Winner worked together to ensure that the film has almost no static “two-shots” where the actors are just sitting next to each other in the same shot talking. This type of shot is so commonplace in cinema that modern audiences would barely notice them, and I must admit I did not notice their absence until Kline pointed it out. This tiny detail gives an appreciation for the level of thought that went into even the smaller dialog sequences of the film, and explains something almost subliminal as to why The Mechanic offers such rewards upon repeated viewings.
They don’t come much better than The Mechanic when it comes to hard-boiled, tough guy cinema (my personal favorite genre). Bronson was a king among men, and Winner knew how to direct the hell out of his star. The directions that The Mechanic’s story goes are bold and surprising. Even after you know where it is all heading, the commitment to vision is satisfying and rewarding none the less. Owning The Mechanic on Blu-ray is a genuine treat for me, and I’ll treasure this release for many years to come. I was already an unabashed fan, but Twilight Time’s new disc brings us the film with a new quality and depth than has ever been available before. This disc comes with my highest of recommendations.
And I’m Out.
