I’m here to talk about a film I didn’t know existed until a few weeks ago — the 1986 comedy/drama Running Scared, starring Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines.
Here’s the gist: Crystal and Hines star as Danny and Ray, a couple of cops who get in a little too deep with Julio Gonzales, a drug kingpin (a very young Jimmy Smits) making a power move in Chicago. Following a brief suspension, the pair head to Key West, Florida, buy a bar and decide to retire. The allure of their job proves too much to overcome, leading Danny and Ray on a mission to finish Gonzales once and for all.
Running Scared stands as a solid counter to Quentin Tarantino’s claim that the 80s was the worst period for motion pictures. While I acknowledge that the era might not be renowned for its refined filmmaking, it does boast a refreshing lack of inhibition. Unlike contemporary cinema, which often feels constrained by corporate interests and marketing strategies, the 80s embraced a sense of freedom and unbridled fun among producers.
Released a year before Richard Donner’s Lethal Weapon, Running Scared tries and fails to replicate the magic of Walter Hill’s terrific 48 Hrs. and instead delivers a tonally inconsistent dramedy that never fully settles into a comfortable zone. Director/Cinematographer Peter Hyams (Timecop, Capricorn One) captures Chicago’s smokey atmosphere, often setting scenes in darkly lit bars and offices that feel like discarded sets from Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, which contrasts sharply with Gary Devore and Jimmy Huston’s witty screenplay. Crystal and Hines make for a terrific comedy duo — you genuinely believe they’ve been friends since the dawn of time — but their playful chemistry is often weighed down by Hyams’ naturalistic approach to the material.
Yet, like most films set in the 1980s, you just sort of go with it.
Call it nostalgia or an overwhelming urge to see more novelty, but I enjoyed Running Scared as a breezy buddy comedy that gets the most out of its two stars. In what I think is his first significant starring role on the big screen, Crystal plays Danny in the same vein as Harry Burns from When Harry Met Sally… He’s all dry, sarcastic quips and a world-weary cynic. The actor convincingly portrays a self-assured police officer who, upon inheriting a substantial amount of money from a deceased relative, embarks on a pleasure-filled getaway to Key West with his best friend, all without displaying a hint of emotion. I love it.
This is my first go with Hines, and he was so entertaining to watch. I’m itching to see more of his work. Like Crystal, he’s not asked to create a character so much as deliver witty dialogue that occasionally propels the shoestring plot forward. Ray sleeps with beautiful women, none of whom mind when Danny bursts in the morning, doesn’t shrink under pressure — “Pointing a gun at a police officer? Can we waste them for that?” — and doesn’t seem to mind that his partner almost gets him killed on multiple occasions.
In many ways, Running Scared exemplifies Hollywood at its laziest, a film driven exclusively by its actors. The plot is secondary, if not optional — it’s the buddy/cop equivalent of Mr. and Mrs. Smith and Ocean’s 13, made during a time when we willingly shelled out our hard-earned cash to see movie stars shine on the big screen.
Fortunately, the majority of the jokes hit their mark. A great bit sees Smits’ character exit a room without pants, with Danny and Ray in hot pursuit. He takes a woman hostage and insists that Danny surrender his pants. Danny complies, but a misstep causes him to miss Gonzales’ outstretched hand, prompting Ray to reluctantly lower his drawers. Throughout this tense scenario, the hostage’s terrified screams create a palpable sense of fear, yet the scene is executed with a humorous twist, resulting in an odd blend of tension and comedy. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
That’s Running Scared in a nutshell. People get shot, others die, and we move on to the next scene without much consequence.
Here is a film that stops dead in its track to let its heroes embark on a 10-minute montage set to Michael McDonald’s “Sweet Freedom.” Moments earlier, they engaged in a violent shootout and bemoaned Danny’s pending divorce. Suddenly, they’re sleeping around with beautiful, bikini-clad women and wearing shirts with painted breasts.
You never know whether or not to take any of it seriously. Even when Danny’s wife gets kidnapped, it leads to a climactic confrontation set in one of those large, deserted, roomy locations found in every action film.
Then, like every great 80s flick, once our heroes kill the bad guy, the movie ends. No fat. No epilogue. We don’t even get a resolution to the Key West bar storyline, just credits. When it ended, my initial reaction was, “What the hell was that?” In the days since I watched it, however, I’ve started recommending Running Scared to everyone I know. Each time, I offer the same advice — just go with it.
Running Scared may not quite scale the comedic peaks of other buddy/cop films, yet it adeptly serves up its own brand of ’80s charm and delivers the goods in a style only that era could master.
