The opening line of the original trailer for the iconic Dirty Harry is so memorable and apt that it virtually renders further critical analysis of the film redundant - "This is a story about two killers; the one with the badge is Harry". For sure, the original Dirty Harry still packs one hell of a wallop for a film that's just passed its fortieth anniversary, its status as the Godfather of the modern policier still unchallenged. But why does it remain so powerful after all these years?
1971's Dirty Harry was Don Siegel's masterpiece, his fourth and penultimate collaboration with Clint Eastwood, and one of his very few cinematic excursions into pure nihilistic terror (along with his sci-fi classic "Invasion of the Body Snatchers"). Beyond Eastwood's justifiably famous "Do you feel lucky?" speech and the still-electrifying action sequences, Dirty Harry remains an eerie, genuinely frightening piece of work. The plot of a frustrated cop, hampered by rules and bureaucracy, out to stop a deranged killer by any means necessary is already highly familiar, and has indeed become the stuff of cliche over the last forty years. It may be stretching things a little to suggest that Harry and his quarry, the monstrously malevolent Scorpio, are two sides of the same coin, but almost from the start, the film finds ways of linking the two together. On a rooftop, a leering Scorpio meticulously selects his victims with the aid of his telescopic sight; a few scenes later, on a similar rooftop while on a stakeout, Harry casually spies on the local neighbourhood with the aid of his binoculars, taking particular interest in a pair of nude flower children in a nearby apartment; our first look at both men is as they prowl the empty rooftops of San Francisco, lonely figures framed against the deep blue San Franciscan skyline, high above the hustle and bustle of the city far below; both men wear their hair long and untidy, displaying a preference for brown, nondescript clothing; both men show distinctly sadistic tendencies, Harry taunting the black bank robber (played by Eastwood regular Albert Popwell) in one of the opening scenes; in Scorpio's case, every fibre of his very being screams "sadistic nutjob at work".
Much of the action in Dirty Harry takes place at night, with San Francisco becoming a gloomy, neon-lit hunting ground for both men. Bruce Surtees's cinematography is often so dark that faces and bodies become indistinct, illustrating the enormity of Callahan's task in trying to hunt down Scorpio, who keeps himself well hidden within the dark shadows of the San Franciscan nightlife for the first half of the film. The usually picturesque San Francisco is filmed as a cold, forbidding place where vicious criminals blend in with young hippies, caught in the slow aftermath of the death of the counter-cultural revolution.
Despite Eastwood and Siegel's considerable input, two other key figures add immeasurably to the sense of menace. First, composer Lalo Schifrin; having composed three scores already for Eastwood, here he created something so creepily effective that it is hard to imagine the film with any other composer. Schifrin's use of other-worldly child-like voices and stinging guitar riffs suggest perfectly the twisted workings of Scorpio's sick mind. Secondly, Andy Robinson, as Scorpio; Robinson's performance as an unreadable, wild-eyed creature from beyond the realms of human understanding is so astonishing in its intensity that it's arguable that no other bad guy performance over the past forty years since has quite matched it. Siegel gives us some great close-ups of his spooked-out eyes throughout the film and Robinson's contorted, almost effeminate features add considerably to the overall sense of malevolence that he brings to the character.
Both Harry and Scorpio are presented to us as outcasts from society, on the outside looking in. Neither man has any real motivation in what they do beyond the hunt and the kill; Scorpio demands money, but it's obvious that payment isn't likely to stop him from killing again. "He'll kill again," Callahan informs the prissy DA Rothko, "'cause he likes it." It takes one to know one. A few scenes later, Callahan is chatting to the wife of his recuperating partner, Chico. "This is no life for you two," he informs her, perhaps the only time in the film in which he genuinely connects with another human being with some degree of warmth and sincerity. "Why do you stay in it then?" she wants to know. "I don't know. I really don't," comes the resigned reply. Harry's life has no meaning beyond the hunt.
No matter how many times one sits through Dirty Harry, it's impact is never diminished.
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