The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, 1974.
Directed by Joseph Sargent.
Starring Walter Matthau, Robert Shaw, Martin Balsam and Héctor Elizondo.
SYNOPSIS:
Four armed men hijack a New York City subway car and demand a ransom for the passengers. The city’s police are faced with a conundrum: Even if it’s paid, how could they get away?
Joseph Sargent’s The Taking of Pelham One Two Three is a masterclass in economical filmmaking. It runs just over 100 minutes, features a hostage plot that unfolds in real time, and stars a cast of perfectly pitched performances. More importantly, it understands that thrillers are at their best when rooted in character and place. Yes, it is a film about a hijacked train, but really, it’s also a love letter to a crumbling New York City and the cynical, quick-witted inhabitants trying to keep it together.
Adapted by Peter Stone from the novel by John Godey, the plot is disarmingly simple. Four men in disguises, led by the ever-exacting Robert Shaw, board a subway train. They separate the lead car, and hold the passengers hostage demanding one million dollars within an hour, or people will die. Though the setup sounds absurd, the way it’s executed never stretches credibility. Instead, it taps directly into the pulse of 1970s urban America, where bureaucratic inertia, economic stress, and rising crime all seemed to coalesce under fluorescent lights and concrete tunnels.
Walter Matthau, as transit cop Lt. Zachary Garber, gives the film its grounded, human core. Gruff and sardonic, yet strangely warm, Matthau delivers a quietly brilliant performance that feels lived-in. He doesn’t play the hero as a swaggering tough guy; he plays him as a weary civil servant doing his best to keep chaos at bay with a radio and a weary joke. Robert Shaw, as the hijackers’ ringleader “Mr Blue,” matches him perfectly. His clipped, almost surgical delivery creates a menacing presence that requires no theatrics – just calm threat.
What’s most impressive is how vividly drawn the ensemble feels, even in brief flashes. From Jerry Stiller’s no-nonsense support as Garber’s colleague, to Martin Balsam’s disgruntled former train operator, everyone feels essential. Even the passengers, though written-in with broad brushstrokes, are never reduced to disaster-movie clichés. They’re frightened, sarcastic, quietly heroic. They feel like real people.
Sargent directs with absolute clarity. The pace never flags, the geography is always legible, and the tension rises naturally from situation rather than spectacle. His touch is light but precise, even allowing humour to emerge organically. A recurring gag involving the mayor’s fear of being booed is not only funny, but also nails the film’s mood of civic dysfunction. The city is falling apart, and everyone knows it, but they keep showing up to work anyway.
David Shire’s score, all jagged jazz rhythms and growling horns, adds a jolt of energy to every sequence. It’s a proper piece of cinematic composition – propulsive, dissonant, and perfectly tuned to the action. Combined with Owen Roizman’s gritty cinematography and Gerald Greenberg’s tight editing, it gives the film a momentum that still feels modern.
The Arrow Blu-ray release builds on the strength of the film with an equally strong offering of extras. From the film showing a ‘then and now’ mapping of the movie’s locations, through to a bunch of interviews with various commentators and people involved in the film, you’ll need to set aside some serious time to watch it all. The reversible sleeve and collectors’ booklet are the Arrow icing on the cake.
The Taking of Pelham One Two Three may have inspired remakes and tributes, but none have matched the verve, the wit, or the perfectly unpolished charm of this original. It’s not just a great thriller. It’s a snapshot of a time, a place, and a city always on the edge. And it’s still an absolute joy to watch.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
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