In the screenwriting world, it’s commonly
understood that most weak scripts falter in the second act, because it’s easy
to intrigue with a lively setup and to fabricate satisfactory endings by
resolving things, whereas maintaining logic and momentum in between these
milestones is the tricky part. Therefore it’s peculiar to encounter a movie
along the lines of Thirty Dangerous
Seconds, which starts poorly, hits its stride midway through, and stumbles
again toward the end—a solid second act without benefit of good first and third
acts is a rare thing. Anyway, Thirty
Dangerous Seconds is a low-budget crime thriller shot in Oklahoma, with
clumsy regional actors supporting imported Hollywood leads.
Briefly, here’s the
laborious setup. A down-on-his-luck geologist (Robert Lansing) robs an armored
car, but at the very same moment, a trio of professional criminals attempts the
very same crime. When the geologist gets the loot instead of the professionals,
the professionals kidnap the geologist’s wife, then threaten her life unless
the geologist surrenders the stolen money. Much of the picture depicts intrigue
related to meet-ups between the geologist and either the crooks or random folks
enlisted by the crooks to function as surrogates. Colorful characters include
an actor playing a monk, a fellow dressed as a clown, and a little person on
roller skates. In its best moments—very often just fleeting instants within
otherwise problematic scenes—Thirty
Dangerous Seconds is a sorta-clever, sorta-whimsical riff on crime-flick
tropes. Lansing imbues early scenes with self-loathing before shifting to a
kind of petty crankiness, yet this entertaining posturing ceases to make sense
whenever the viewer remembers that the character’s beloved wife is in mortal
danger.
And that’s the problem with Thirty
Dangerous Seconds overall: The elements don’t harmonize. In a better film
of this type, such as a good Elmore Leonard adaptation, attitude and logic mesh
organically. In Thirty Dangerous Seconds,
the lighthearted stuff clashes with the nasty stuff, the criminal scheming
defies recognizable human-behavior patterns, and so on. In short, Thirty Dangerous Seconds is an
amateur-hour endeavor—but it also happens to feature a few decent throwaway
jokes, like the shot of actors dressed as monks while reading Playboy. And, lest this point get
overlooked, recall that bit with the little person on roller skates. In the
absence of real cinematic quality, flashes of lively eccentricity count for
something.
Thirty
Dangerous Seconds: FUNKY
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