“Screw the goddamn passengers! What the hell did they expect from their lousy 35 cents - to live forever?”

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three is a film very much rooted in its era. Just take a look at the cast list of the New Yorkers taken hostage on a subway train--it includes 'the hooker', 'the pimp', 'the alcoholic', 'the WASP', 'the Spanish woman', 'the hippie' and 'the homosexual'. Although the film certainly isn’t politically correct (most glaringly at the beginning, which contains a needless running joke about a group of Japanese businessmen) the rough-edged, seen-it-all-before attitude of its characters means it truly captures a New York spirit that few other films have. Scorsese’s best efforts at this mini-genre, Taxi Driver and Bringing Out The Dead, both concentrate on the lowest underside of the city, but The Taking of Pelham One Two Three takes a broader sweep in its focus, from the mayor’s office all the way down to the aforementioned pimps and alcoholics. From the inept politicians to the apathetic bureaucracy to the resolute passengers, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three is primarily a hostage thriller but also a compelling cross-section of a unique city.

The story concerns a gang of four armed men (addressed only by the colors of their hats: Quentin Tarantino later lifted this idea for Reservoir Dogs) who hijack a subway train with the intent of getting a million dollars from the city within an hour—if they don’t, they threaten to start killing their hostages. The gang of four fit archetypal modes: Robert Shaw’s Mr. Blue is English to a fault: cool as a cucumber and fully resolved, but with a strong sense of honor. Hector Elizondo’s Mr. Grey is the crazy one, Martin Balsam’s Mr. Green the nervous one, and Earl Hindman’s Mr. Brown is just there to have dialogue bounced off of him. They have to deal with transit policeman Zachary Garber (an enormously grouchy Walter Matthau) as well as a cowardly mayor, his slick deputy and a bunch of take-no-shit transit officers. Since the hostage drama lasts only 60 minutes, the film is played basically in real-time (with 20 minutes at either end for setup and denouement) and Sargent, a wildly inconsistent director, perfectly maintains an even flow and high tension. Without resorting to any wild histrionics (a scene where Matthau loses it with a fellow transit officer is quite effectively low-key) or graphic violence, Pelham never devolves into high-camp or becomes too ridiculous. In fact, Sargent’s treatment of the violence is one of Pelham’s best features. Each act of violence, always a shooting, is a pivotal plot point, and Sargent is always at pains to show, however subtly, the effect on each of his main characters. This keeps Pelham suitably ‘gritty’ but also keeps the violence from becoming too senseless, or ‘cool’.

One could argue that Pelham isn’t a film that really benefits from over-analysis. As a viewing experience, its major quality is just that it’s a terrifically taut thriller. The screenplay, based on John Godey’s novel, has some self-consciously silly ‘gangster’ dialogue, especially when crazy Mr. Grey is involved (“I’ve always done my own killing”, he spits at Mr. Blue) and a couple of fairly obvious twists. But it also has a lot of sharply funny dialogue, especially Matthau’s exchanges with a young Jerry Stiller as a fellow transit cop, and the tirades of the blustering subway manager played by Dick O’Neill. The finale is a little rushed—but it has moments of great power, especially the face-to-face meeting of Matthau and Shaw. But although Pelham is just a crime thriller, its overall attitude towards human nature is really quite fascinating and insightful.

In the New York of Pelham, almost all of the characters have only one real concern—their own personal bottom line. This is true both of the gangsters and almost all the supposed ‘good guys’. Mr. Green, repulsed by the idea of killing the hostages, worries more about his own prophecy that he’s “going to die tonight”. The mayor, feigning illness to try and escape the tough decisions, is finally won over to the idea of paying the ransom when his wife tells him what he’ll be getting out of it: “eighteen sure votes”. Even a toll booth officer, being interrogated as a possible suspect hijacker, demands the cops pay their 50 cent toll after they question him. Matthau’s character is really the only one with any empathy at all for the hostages—and even he is blackly cynical. Mr. Blue, the mastermind of the hijacking, still clearly is upset whenever violence is resorted to: the barest minimum of emotion creeps across his face occasionally, for he is no common crook but instead a villain out of a James Bond movie, a cool sophisticate who appreciates honor amongst thieves and a job well done (virtues that Quentin Tarantino also emulates in his films: quite a lot of Pelham’s tone and material can be found in Tarantino’s oeuvre). As Blue, Shaw gives his kind of tour-de-force performance: not anything of particularly great range, but perfectly judged and memorable long afterwards. Matthau is also playing to type but never becomes too hammy (as he often can) and emerges as the closest Pelham comes to a moral anchor.

The film has a really quite pessimistic view on the compassion of humans when it comes to events like these: ask them about an incident like a hijacking or a murder and they’ll profess sympathy, or outrage, or regret; but when it comes down to it, people will do whatever they can to survive and succeed. Sure, Mr. Green might grimace and say “aw, jeez” when a subway attendant is shot, but that doesn’t prevent him from gleefully bouncing around in his big pile of money later on. The Taking of Pelham One Two Three is a funny, well-made, thrilling movie, but it’s the refreshing lack of political correctness or social mores that really makes it stick in your mind.

Directed by Joseph Sargent; written by Peter Stone, based on the novel by John Godey; cinematography by Enrique Bravo and Owen Roizman; editing by Gerald B. Greenberg and Robert Q. Lovett; original score by David Shire; production design by Alixe Gordin; costume design by Anna Hill Johnstone; produced by Edgar J. Scherick and Gabriel Katzka; released by United Artists. Rated R. Runtime 104 mins.

WITH: Walter Matthau (Lt. Zachary Garber), Robert Shaw (Mr. Blue), Martin Balsam (Mr. Green), Hector Elizondo (Mr. Grey), Earl Hindman (Mr. Brown), Dick O'Neill (Frank Correll), Jerry Stiller (Lt. Rico Patone).