runaway train

As Cannon Films' bid for mainstream success and critical appeal, Runaway Train (1985) was a rousing success, earning three Oscar nominations and a healthy amount of cash at the box office. Based on a shelved screenplay from Akira Kurosawa and helmed by Russian director Andrei Konchalovsky, the film was a far cry from typical Cannon release (Death Wish 3 and Invasion U.S.A. were their other big films on the docket that year) and proved the producers Golan - Globus could keep things classy if the mood struck them, a lesson co- producer Harvey Weinstein would take to the bank. But the film couldn't completely shake the Cannon exploitation aesthetic, resulting in a schizophrenic bit of inspired and insipid filmmaking that, like most of the studio's output, remains compellingly watchable.

Legendary prisoner "Manny" Manheim (Jon Voight) stages yet another escape from a maximum security Alaskan prison with help from a motor-mouthed fellow inmate, Buck (Eric Roberts), who idolizes him as a cell block messiah. The two men beat the odds long enough to jump a train, only to find themselves stuck aboard an out-of-control death machine when the engineer keels over and leaves the controls stuck at full speed. Meanwhile, Warden Ranken (John P. Ryan) is quick to pursue Manheim, with whom he has an unhealthy obsession, tracking him to the train and insisting he have the opportunity to re-capture his prey.

Runaway Train is full of all the action tropes one has come to expect from '80s cinema, a decade which excelled in the mass production and marketing of escapist violence. But, other than a show stopping collision early in the film, director Andrei Konchalovsky get more mileage out of his actors than his stunt men. Both Voight and Roberts competed for Best Actor in a leading role (perhaps cancelling each other out), turning in larger-than-life performances that were a perfect match for their situation. Like the movie itself, those performances often threaten to go off the rails, but somehow teeter on the edge of all-out scenery chewing. Their co-stars don't fare so well, particular Ryan as the maniacal Warden Ranken, whose character seems spliced in from a Chuck Norris film editing next door; and Rebecca De Mornay, cast in sexist fashion as the least competent railroad worker to ever wear a helmet.

But the beauty of the film (and there's much beauty to be found in all that snowy wasteland thanks to DP Alan Hume) is its relentless screenplay doesn't make apologies for its flaws; the audience is simply carried on to the next impending tragedy. And thanks to Voight's powerhouse portrayal of a Manny as con who's more than the sum of his crimes, that tragedy always seem to have a deeply human cost.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition is a real visual showstopper, pulling out more detail and color than ever before. Extras include an audio commentary with Eric Roberts moderated by film historian David Del Valle and C. Courtney Joyner along with the original theatrical trailer, isolated score track and liner notes.