48 Heures

48HRS. (1982) *** Nick Nolte, Eddie Murphy, James Remar, David Patrick Kelly, Sonny Landham, Frank McRae, Brion James. One of the best `buddy' action films of all time: Nolte is in rare form as perpetually growling, angry heavy – drinking San Francisco cop Jack Gates who has his hands full when a crazed cop-killing escaped con and his partner go on a rampage with his only resort being motormouthed, street smart Reggie Hammond (Murphy in his scene-stealing big screen debut that made him an overnight sensation in addition to lighting the fuse while the star of `Saturday Night Live') who coincidentally is serving a sentence for being one of the maniac's former crew members on their last gig together (a cache of money only Reggie knows where is hidden). With only 48 hours on leave from the joint the odd couple are forced to help each other overcoming their own racism, violent means and genuine opposites attract mojo working in overdrive. High octane action directed sleekly by Walter Hill and the unexpurgated energetic glee Murphy exudes kicks the film into overdrive. Look for The Busboys (Eddie's fave band) providing the ironic cover of `The Boys Are Back in Town' and for trivia buffs, that's Olivia Brown as the object of Eddie's libido, who would go on to co-star in tv's `Miami Vice' and indie star Chris Mulkey in a bit part as a uniformed cop.

It's the chemistry between Nolte and Murphy that makes this work, plus the fact that both men really attempt to 'get into the skin' of their character, something mostly ignored in other examples of this genre. Director Hill knows he's got a great team in front of the camera, and all that remains is for him to incorporate some spectacular action sequences around them. This he does competently. That one-two punch is what gives the movie its fireworks.

The banter and situations concerning the characters are also gleefully un-PC. It'd be interesting to see what a studio and director would make of the same premise in these 'enlightened' times. Murphy's comic stage persona is less restrained here than it would be in later films, and the results are often shamefully funny.

Don't expect Shakespeare, there's far too much cursing and other unsavoury shenanigans going on for that; do expect a pacy and entertaining early example of the 'buddy thriller'.

Officer Jack Cates is assigned to catch a recently escaped convict. Tragedy ensues as he confronts his prey. Left with guilt and a botched reputation he grabs the desperate measure of seeking the help of jailbird Reggie Hammond. But there's a catch. And on the adventure goes of the two unlikely partners who can barely conceal their disdain for each other but develop a bond and friendship as they come closer to attaining their goal. The chemistry between Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy is among the most memorable in all of film. Nolte's oafish and catankerous character and Murphy's smooth portrayal clash and make up in some of the funniest scenes and lines in all of filmdom. There's a rawness and awkwardness in some of the dialogues and scenes that give the film a ring of authenticity. One doesn't see these in movies anymore and cinema is all the poorer for it. The nostalgia factor is paramount as one views the fashion and mores bringing back memories of another time. One of the best Cop / Buddy films made, this is one that stays for good.

Only a privileged few who remember "48 Hrs." acknowledge it as the primary influence of the buddy-cop films of the 80's ("Lethal Weapon", "Miami Vice"). Nick Nolte plays Jack Cates, a rusty, cranky, tough-guy cop working the homicide department in San Francisco. When a violent chain-gang escape reunites two hardened criminals (the greasy-looking Ganz and a towering Indian named Billy Bear) who subsequently murder two police officers and a prison guard, Cates is assigned to babysit paroled convict Reggie Hammond (Eddie Murphy), an old member of Ganz's gang. Reggie has been released for one weekend (hence the title) to aid Jack in capturing these two cop-killers. Unbeknownst to Cates, Ganz & Billy Bear are not simply out on a killing spree but rather in search of a very important briefcase that belongs to Reggie.

I can't think of another film debut as explosive as Eddie Murphy in "48 Hrs.", even though Murphy's work on "Saturday Night Live" already tossed him into the public's consciousness. It's also worth noting that because director Walter Hill is known for casting interracial leads in his non-western films ("Brewster's Millions", "Crossroads", "Supernova"), never before had we seen a black man act like this in a movie; assured, aggressive and confident to the point of being cocky. It would be easy to dismiss Murphy's character as a black stereotype; well-dressed, horny, smooth-talking, bantering, but Murphy pulls his character away from stereotype cobwebs with unfiltered charisma and instinct. Think of it, most people who now wail away the chorus to "Roxanne" are invoking Murphy instead of Sting (and what a hilarious introduction that is). Also, there is the unforgettable sequence where Reggie takes over a redneck bar, posing as a cop! It's the most magnetic scene in the film, and Murphy delivers ("You know what I am? I'm your worst f***in' nightmare! That's right I'm a nigger with a badge and I got permission to kick your f***in' ass whenever I feel like it.")

Obviously, this film wasn't written as a comedy. Nolte spends much of his time hurling every kind of racial epithet imaginable at Murphy when he's not chain-smoking or guzzling from a flask. Murphy injects his humor into the story without disrupting the movie's violently grim tone, and Murphy & Nolte are excellent at creating an oil-and-water duo that keeps them at odds for most of the film. There are no stylistic explosions, but there are some tense gunfights including a chase scene in a train station and a shootout that employs a convertible and a public bus. Composer James Horner, who would come to prominence in the 90's as one of the more reverent film composers, creates an unusual, percussion-driven score heavy with Caribbean flavor. It's works well, adding an element of heat while Jack & Reggie cruise San Francisco with the top down. The film has thankfully dated pretty well, and sometimes even holds the faint resemblance of a 1970's cop film (I'm sure interracial blaxploitation movies like "Across 110th Street" served their influence). Of all of Walter Hill's work, "Crossroads" remains closest to my heart, but this is certainly his most mature effort. Expect to laugh, but expect to be shaken too.

I regard 48 Hrs as an action adventure with a comedic debut performance by the then 21 years old, Eddie Murphy.

Hard nosed, hard drinking cop Jack Cates (Nick Nolte) pulls a convicted bank robber Reggie Hammond (Eddie Murphy) from prison on a forged 48 hours pass to help him capture Hammond's old partner, Albert Ganz (James Remar) who killed Cates fellow cop.

Ganz himself escaped from prison with the help of native, Billy Bear and both go on a killing rampage as they look for the half a million dollars that went missing after one of their robberies.

Reggie knows where the money is but wants to stay one step ahead of Cates. Both distrust each other but need to work together to catch Ganz.

Walter Hill made a tough thriller with plenty of violence and cursing but imbued it with the humour of Murphy fresh from Saturday Night Live. Without his presence this would just be a forgotten police action film from the 1980s. He owns that scene when he pretends to be a cop at a country & western dive bar as he shakes down the patron.

Murphy elevates the film with the help of some off beat support by Remar and David Patrick Kelly. Nolte plays off well with the street smart, lean and hungry Murphy as the gruff cop who drinks too much and is too flabby.

In the sequel, Another 48 Hours, eight years later it was Murphy who would be flabby and out of shape going against a leaner, meaner Nolte.