Remembered as one of the earliest television directors, Barry Shear made occasional visits to the motion picture industry and created a handful of serviceable films dating from 1968. Of this small group, the urban crime drama 'Across 110th Street' will probably remain his best-known, although it seems destined for eternal life in obscurity.
'Across 110th Street' was released on the advent of blaxploitation films and other urban Black dramas, making it cutting edge for its time. However, this nasty, unremitting tale of ghetto life has little of the veneer and stylization that have made other 1970s titles like 'Shaft' and 'Truck Turner' endure in the American conscience. 'Across 110th Street,' for all of its violence and anger, is understated and keeps glamor completely out of the loop.
Borrowing from a novel by Wally Ferris, 'Across 110th Street' is centered on three Harlem men who are desperate to escape their poor backgrounds: ex-convict and apartment super Jim Harris (Paul Benjamin), dry cleaner Joe Logart (Ed Bernard), and playboy Henry Jackson (Antonio Fargas). The three friends barge into a mafia cash count with Harris and Logart disguised as police officers and Jackson driving their getaway car. They speed off with $300,000, leaving behind seven dead men, including two cops.
Harris, Logart, and Jackson spend their time hiding from an investigation by older, White detective Mattelli (Anthony Quinn) and young, Black lieutenant Pope (Yaphet Kotto) while avoiding Black mobster Doc Johnson (Richard Ward) and Italian mafioso Nick D'Salvio (Anthony Franciosa), who are looking to recover their stake. The hunt for these three men becomes a race between two factions, the police and organized crime, with racial tensions being set off along the way.
Unlike better-known blaxploitation films that combine social problems with heroic acts, 'Across 110th Street' uses a completely naturalistic setting, where everyone from citizens to cops are looking merely to stay alive; mob men drive fear into innocent people, cops take kickbacks from drug and gambling rings, and those raised in poverty go to unthinkable extremes for a few extra dollars. The entire atmosphere of '110th' is grim, unsettling, and unremitting, with no one immune from the sickness of modern life.
Barry Shear's direction is strong, bringing out excellent performances by Quinn, Kotto, Benjamin, and the supporting cast. While Shear's style of direction is not very imaginative, he makes use of tight surroundings to create the hot, claustrophobic aura that 'Across 110th Street' needs. Most of the film is shot in confined locations, such as tenements, small businesses, and police precincts, which Shear uses to magnify the friction between each character.
The film (co-produced by Shear, Quinn, and three others) seems to have been made on a limited budget, as indicated by its below-average technical work. The photography by Jack Priestley is quite good, but there are off-moments involving out-of-sync dialogue and poor Foley effects. This in no way spoils the film's impact, but the overall quality is somewhat pulled down. The score by J.J. Johnson (with solos by Bobby Womack) does hold up nicely, always with a feel of menace.
Even with Black dramas from the 1970s being rediscovered, 'Across 110th Street' seems to lag considerably behind other titles. Quentin Tarentino's borrowing of the title song for use in 'Jackie Brown' has helped to give the film some new exposure, perhaps enough to bring a modern-day reevaluation. But for now, '110th' holds its place as a forgotten landmark of Black film-making, still entertaining a limited audience.
'Across 110th Street' has been given a (surprise!) mediocre release by MGM Home Video as part of its Soul Cinema collection. The film is presented in widescreen with Dolby enhancement of the original mono track; Spanish and French 'dubbing' are offered besides three-language subtitles. The film's print is in good condition with some visible artifacts and occasional grain. The audio is poorly balanced, however, with dialogue often muffled by adjacent noise. It seems that the film has been repaired to an extent, but MGM didn't go far enough to make 'Across 110th Street' the pristine film it could be. And once again, Dolby enhancement serves as a handicap, not an improvement, to pre-stereo films. The theatrical trailer, also in fair shape, is offered as an extra.
*** out of 4
Roving Reviewer - www.geocities.com/paul_johnr
'Across 110th Street' was released on the advent of blaxploitation films and other urban Black dramas, making it cutting edge for its time. However, this nasty, unremitting tale of ghetto life has little of the veneer and stylization that have made other 1970s titles like 'Shaft' and 'Truck Turner' endure in the American conscience. 'Across 110th Street,' for all of its violence and anger, is understated and keeps glamor completely out of the loop.
Borrowing from a novel by Wally Ferris, 'Across 110th Street' is centered on three Harlem men who are desperate to escape their poor backgrounds: ex-convict and apartment super Jim Harris (Paul Benjamin), dry cleaner Joe Logart (Ed Bernard), and playboy Henry Jackson (Antonio Fargas). The three friends barge into a mafia cash count with Harris and Logart disguised as police officers and Jackson driving their getaway car. They speed off with $300,000, leaving behind seven dead men, including two cops.
Harris, Logart, and Jackson spend their time hiding from an investigation by older, White detective Mattelli (Anthony Quinn) and young, Black lieutenant Pope (Yaphet Kotto) while avoiding Black mobster Doc Johnson (Richard Ward) and Italian mafioso Nick D'Salvio (Anthony Franciosa), who are looking to recover their stake. The hunt for these three men becomes a race between two factions, the police and organized crime, with racial tensions being set off along the way.
Unlike better-known blaxploitation films that combine social problems with heroic acts, 'Across 110th Street' uses a completely naturalistic setting, where everyone from citizens to cops are looking merely to stay alive; mob men drive fear into innocent people, cops take kickbacks from drug and gambling rings, and those raised in poverty go to unthinkable extremes for a few extra dollars. The entire atmosphere of '110th' is grim, unsettling, and unremitting, with no one immune from the sickness of modern life.
Barry Shear's direction is strong, bringing out excellent performances by Quinn, Kotto, Benjamin, and the supporting cast. While Shear's style of direction is not very imaginative, he makes use of tight surroundings to create the hot, claustrophobic aura that 'Across 110th Street' needs. Most of the film is shot in confined locations, such as tenements, small businesses, and police precincts, which Shear uses to magnify the friction between each character.
The film (co-produced by Shear, Quinn, and three others) seems to have been made on a limited budget, as indicated by its below-average technical work. The photography by Jack Priestley is quite good, but there are off-moments involving out-of-sync dialogue and poor Foley effects. This in no way spoils the film's impact, but the overall quality is somewhat pulled down. The score by J.J. Johnson (with solos by Bobby Womack) does hold up nicely, always with a feel of menace.
Even with Black dramas from the 1970s being rediscovered, 'Across 110th Street' seems to lag considerably behind other titles. Quentin Tarentino's borrowing of the title song for use in 'Jackie Brown' has helped to give the film some new exposure, perhaps enough to bring a modern-day reevaluation. But for now, '110th' holds its place as a forgotten landmark of Black film-making, still entertaining a limited audience.
'Across 110th Street' has been given a (surprise!) mediocre release by MGM Home Video as part of its Soul Cinema collection. The film is presented in widescreen with Dolby enhancement of the original mono track; Spanish and French 'dubbing' are offered besides three-language subtitles. The film's print is in good condition with some visible artifacts and occasional grain. The audio is poorly balanced, however, with dialogue often muffled by adjacent noise. It seems that the film has been repaired to an extent, but MGM didn't go far enough to make 'Across 110th Street' the pristine film it could be. And once again, Dolby enhancement serves as a handicap, not an improvement, to pre-stereo films. The theatrical trailer, also in fair shape, is offered as an extra.
*** out of 4
Roving Reviewer - www.geocities.com/paul_johnr