As the title song snarls in, the only color in the entire city of Chicago comes from the red of the Wrigley Field marquee and the yellow of civic transit not yet buried alive. At first, the boys don\u2019t mind, shrugging off a stakeout to hustle a game of streetball. This is their natural, smoky, sooty, slushy habitat and they\u2019re buddy cops – they are, for now, invincible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So was Hyams<\/a>, having just won the biggest game of chicken in cinema history by delivering a financially and critically successful sequel to 2001: A Space Odyssey<\/em>. MGM tried to keep the miracle worker around with a script about two middle-aged NYPD officers eying retirement, to hopefully be played by Gene Hackman and Paul Newman<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n But Hyams wanted a less familiar playground and a face so fresh its film career had seemingly peaked with a one-scene cameo in This is Spinal Tap<\/em> – Billy Crystal. \u201cYou could hear a thud<\/a>,\u201d the director recalled at a 25th anniversary Q&A. After an exhaustive screen test, MGM approved. Gregory Hines lobbied for Buddy #2 and seemed like a much easier choice, having already worked with Mel Brooks, William Friedkin, Francis Ford Coppola, and The Muppets by then. \u201cThud<\/a>.\u201d But Hyams insisted; the chemistry spoke for itself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Costanzo and Hughes are evolutionary descendents of Keneely and Farrell, the primordial loose cannons from Hyams\u2019s 1974 buddy cop prototype Busting<\/em>. Just like their shaggier ancestors, they tweak their facial hair at authority, tease the local kingpin in broad daylight, and violate the occasional civil liberty – punching out a handcuffed perp was already a cheap laugh in 1986. But eventually they, too, fold in the face of a lenient justice system.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In Busting<\/em>, that\u2019s the impotently furious \u201870s-grade ending, as the good guys accept that the bad guys are too powerful to lose in a way that matters. In Running Scared<\/em>, it\u2019s the midpoint. After returning from an inheritance-funded sojourn to Key West to see canonical friend Michael McDonald<\/a> and go halfsies on a dive bar, they find out Julio Gonzalez, their would\u2019ve-been career-making bust and future \u201cfirst Spanish Godfather of Chicago,\u201d got off easy and now wants their wisecracking tongues for trophies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Instead of credits, \u201cShort-Timers Disease\u201d rolls in, torturing the gunshy duo with alternately self-destructive and self-conscious urges to play supercop or take the only, miraculous opportunity at comfortable retirement they\u2019ll ever get. If you squint, you can see the arms race of \u201880s action trying to kill them in real-time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hyams, pulling his usual double duty as cinematographer, shoots the early scenes like a comfortably gritty hang. Every interior is lit like the lineup room, with shadows down the back of whoever\u2019s standing closest to camera. This is routine to them; we\u2019re just watching the usual suspects over their shoulders. But then the boys get a Miami Vice<\/em> makeover and, in a prescient warning of the far-off Marvel machine, Billy Crystal gets absolutely shredded – trainer Dan Isaacson<\/a> would soon after work Christopher Reeves back into Kryptonian shape for Superman IV: The Quest for Peace<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n From there, the poor bastards just can\u2019t catch a break. They shamefully strap on body armor, then lose their pants. They requisition a bulletproof car from the precinct Q-Branch, then skid into a Friedkin-rivaling chase on active \u201cL\u201d tracks. To sneak inside the State of Illinois Center, Ray has to scale all 17 stories, a simple stunt so daunting that only the building’s window washer would bite the bullet.<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n A year before Lethal Weapon<\/em>, Hyams saw which way the wind was blowing and put his ordinary cops through extraordinary hell. The apparent ease of the comedy and anamorphic muscle of the action makes for a distinctly fizzy mix, even in a genre soon-to-be drowned with similar cocktails.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The cast is a veritable parade of That Guys, from human ulcer Dan Hedaya to Joe Pantoliano dressed like a one-hit wonder. The soundtrack was masterminded by Thriller<\/em> producer Rod Temperton. It beat Riggs and Murtaugh to the punch with Black and white buddies and, to Hines\u2019s hard-fought pride, let the former have sex. Everyone involved cared so much about it they kept various attempts at an England-set sequel, Still Running<\/em>, from happening, not to mention how much they cared about each other; for the film\u2019s 35th anniversary, Crystal admitted he keeps a copy close by: \u201cOccasionally I\u2019ll put it on and watch just as a way of visiting with Greg<\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But despite a handsome new Blu-ray from Kino Lorber, Running Scared<\/em> still doesn\u2019t get much respect in the grander scheme of anyone\u2019s career, let alone the field of buddy police work. Which ultimately confirms that Running Scared<\/em> is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a January movie – because nobody gives a shit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But Costanzo\u2019s got a point: \u201cRegular people suck.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Running Scared” is streaming on several ad-based platforms<\/a> and is available for digital rental or purchase<\/a>, as well as on Blu-ray from KL Studio Classics<\/a>. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/01\/running-scared2-1024x705.jpg\")
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