48 Hrs. for 12 Million Dollars

 T  hirty-three years ago, before YouTube, the Internet, and CGI (computer-generated imagery), movie makers absolutely had to be good at their craft in order to make something of value. They relied on real actors, music, editing and above all, timing, in order to make movies that could stand the test of time and entertain viewers who actually stood on line to see them.

In 1982, Walter Hill took a young Eddie Murphy, paired him up with former football player-turned-actor, Nick Nolte, and made what is possibly the best cop-buddy movie ever made; 48 Hrs. From its opening chain-gang scene that starts off with an incredible, award winning James Horner score, to its use of editing, timing and the physical presence of its actors, 48 Hrs. was technically perfect. With just 12 million dollars (1979's Star Trek the Motion Picture had a budget of 46 million) Hill was able to put together ninety-six minutes of film that should be shown in film classes around the world before future directors even start thinking about CGI.

Essentially, the story of a convict and a cop chasing a psychotic cop-killer through the streets of San Francisco who is hell-bent on getting back a whole bunch of money stolen from him in a drug sale gone wrong, what made 48 hrs so special was they way it used each of its characters' physical movements, gestures and dialogue, and timed them all together with dynamic editing, jazzy background music by the Busboys and Ira Newborn, chase after chase involving Nolte's old Cadillac, a stolen bus, and two crazy gun- and knife-wielding maniacs, giving the viewer what should be considered a genuine masterpiece. 

Eddie Murphy is physically slick as he jumps over turnstyles with ease in the subway and when he unleashes his quick combination punches against Nolte's face. He steals the movie with his infamous redneck bar scene which would later catapault him to stardom and turn him into a human cash register for Hollywood. Nolte, like his car, is brutish but reliable while relentlessly searching for the killer who stole his gun in a fantastic hotel shootout. Albert Ganz, ruthlessly played by James Remar, invokes genuine fear as the viewer is never sure what he will do next in his grey wifebeater sweater and slicked-back hair. His partner in crime, a musclebound indian named Billy Bear, is just as scary without saying more than a few lines the whole movie.

Brilliantly edited to Horner's visceral score with tympanic drums, blaring saxophones and a synthesizer for the climactic scene, which sounds like it was dragged out of the gates of Hell, 48 Hrs. stands alone as an example of what can be done in the editing room without a computer or microchip but just the vision of a director who knew how to maintain rhthym and keep time with his actors in a way that was incredibly intimate. This vision is sorely lacking in most of the movies made today by a slew of directors who rely on special effects to save them from a YouTube generation that makes movie-making far too easy.