brannigan

It’s sad that we live in a world where one feels obliged to apologize for enjoying a John Wayne movie. Political correctness seems to demand an acknowledgment of all the Duke’s sins before admitting such a thing. But Wayne remains a towering figure in Hollywood history and, in most cases, deservedly so. Only a few of the nearly two hundred films on his resume called for him to step out of his comfort zone, but even the roles Wayne made look easy, he never phoned in a performance.

Such is the case with Brannigan (1975), one of the actor’s final films and a last ditch effort to keep the actor relevant to an audience that had tired of playing cowboys and Indians. Working from a French Connection / Dirty Harry formula, Wayne plays the titular Chicago cop sent over to London to extradite a criminal kingpin (played by Animal House’s John Vernon) who has a personal vendetta against our big Irish fish-out-of-water. But just as Brannigan is ready to slap on the cuffs, the bad guy himself becomes the victim of a kidnapping plot, leaving the British government on the hook for a cool million.

Directed rather sluggishly by Douglas Hickox (Theater of Blood) but marvelously photographed by DP Gerry Fisher in the midst of a still-swinging 1970s London, Brannigan is all atmosphere. From the cars to the clothes to the unruly sideburns, this is a film one can get lost in. The Simpsons-style renegade cop clichés, with Wayne sparring good-naturedly with his British counterpart (Richard Attenborough), only make for a more comfortable fit. The most exciting moments revolve around a hit man (Daniel Pilon) assigned to take out Brannigan at various points of his tour of London. Each attempt fails to hit the mark (much like an Inspector Clouseau routine) but the structure provides a nice break in the procedural action.

As a film, Brannigan doesn’t have the courage to completely ditch the Duke’s image. So it splits the difference with some comic relief and barroom brawls that are right in Wayne’s wheelhouse. Attempts to provide the Duke with his own catch phrase – “Knock, knock!” – are about as wooden as the doors he breaks though before delivering them. But he gives it the old college try. Which is exactly the same compliment one might pay the film itself.

Twilight Time’s 3000-copy limited edition Blu-ray is one of their most impressive transfers to date. Words simply cannot do the hi-def image justice. But Julie Kirgo’s liner notes do an excellent job of providing background on the film’s production, accompanied by an audio commentary from co-star Judy Geeson and film historian Nick Redman that do them one better. Geeson’s also shares her home movies from the shoot, as well. A theatrical trailer and isolated score track complete what is another top-notch package of a film on the cultural fringe available exclusively at http://www.screenarchives.com.