Geoffrey Unsworth's sterling cinematography and Sean Connery's startling stuntwork are the only two worthwhile takeaways from this dodgy period piece that can't decide whether to be a caper comedy a la "The Sting" or a serious suspense yarn.
Edward Pierce (Connery) is an ostensibly respectable member of 1855 London society who harbors a crooked secret: He likes to steal. When he targets a shipment of gold en route via train to the British Army in the Crimea, he goes all out, enlisting the support of ace safecracker Robert Agar (Donald Sutherland) to boldly go where no crook has gone before.
Well, it's an interesting set-up, anyway. But writer-director Michael Crichton doesn't do much with it, except set up Connery for his big stunt. We see Connery, very clearly without benefit of stuntman, climb upon a moving train and duck under a series of stone bridges that could have easily decapitated him, his only safety measure apparently being the two giant brass counterweights he had nestled in his pants.
It's unforgettable viewing, yet it doesn't add a thing to the story. We know Pierce is going to make it, or the movie would have a different title. So this death-defying stunt actually manages to become somewhat tedious, even with Unsworth's sterling lenswork playing the hulking Connery against a whooshing rural countryside. This is Unsworth's last film, and boasts his signature sheen. No one captured the outdoors quite like him.
Before they break into the safe, Pierce and Agar first need to get four keys, requiring three different break-ins. Again, any suspense here is of the title-restricted variety. Some attempts at comedy are introduced, but don't get much farther than entendres of the double- and single- variety. Sutherland's Irish accent wouldn't survive a Lucky Charms casting call, while third-billed Lesley-Anne Down flashes her big blues and giggles. Beautiful she is, subtle she ain't.
A big problem for me was why to root for Pierce and his crew. Most of the film seems bent on making us like them, yet they commit some heinous acts to get what they're after. Speaking of heinous, why does Crichton subject us to a real scene of a terrier killing rats? It's not like we need it storywise. I guess it's there because Crichton thought it was properly authentic.
You do get authentic details in this movie, like criminal argot (a "betty" or "twirl" is a key, a "crusher" is a cop, a "tightener" is a drink), a public hanging, and a doss house. There's also something called a "Bateson's belfry" which Crichton apparently made up, though at least that works for the story. Crichton was a meticulous researcher who enjoyed ideas, but "Robbery" lacks the energy of his more future- oriented yarn-spinning. He's working with a real story this time, and seems uncharacteristically hemmed in by it.
Watching Connery is always worth something, but after that train scene I can't help but feel this was nearly at too high a cost. Even though he lived to make other movies, it still wasn't worth it.
Edward Pierce (Connery) is an ostensibly respectable member of 1855 London society who harbors a crooked secret: He likes to steal. When he targets a shipment of gold en route via train to the British Army in the Crimea, he goes all out, enlisting the support of ace safecracker Robert Agar (Donald Sutherland) to boldly go where no crook has gone before.
Well, it's an interesting set-up, anyway. But writer-director Michael Crichton doesn't do much with it, except set up Connery for his big stunt. We see Connery, very clearly without benefit of stuntman, climb upon a moving train and duck under a series of stone bridges that could have easily decapitated him, his only safety measure apparently being the two giant brass counterweights he had nestled in his pants.
It's unforgettable viewing, yet it doesn't add a thing to the story. We know Pierce is going to make it, or the movie would have a different title. So this death-defying stunt actually manages to become somewhat tedious, even with Unsworth's sterling lenswork playing the hulking Connery against a whooshing rural countryside. This is Unsworth's last film, and boasts his signature sheen. No one captured the outdoors quite like him.
Before they break into the safe, Pierce and Agar first need to get four keys, requiring three different break-ins. Again, any suspense here is of the title-restricted variety. Some attempts at comedy are introduced, but don't get much farther than entendres of the double- and single- variety. Sutherland's Irish accent wouldn't survive a Lucky Charms casting call, while third-billed Lesley-Anne Down flashes her big blues and giggles. Beautiful she is, subtle she ain't.
A big problem for me was why to root for Pierce and his crew. Most of the film seems bent on making us like them, yet they commit some heinous acts to get what they're after. Speaking of heinous, why does Crichton subject us to a real scene of a terrier killing rats? It's not like we need it storywise. I guess it's there because Crichton thought it was properly authentic.
You do get authentic details in this movie, like criminal argot (a "betty" or "twirl" is a key, a "crusher" is a cop, a "tightener" is a drink), a public hanging, and a doss house. There's also something called a "Bateson's belfry" which Crichton apparently made up, though at least that works for the story. Crichton was a meticulous researcher who enjoyed ideas, but "Robbery" lacks the energy of his more future- oriented yarn-spinning. He's working with a real story this time, and seems uncharacteristically hemmed in by it.
Watching Connery is always worth something, but after that train scene I can't help but feel this was nearly at too high a cost. Even though he lived to make other movies, it still wasn't worth it.