Bogie's just about the only good thing in this idiotic movie where almost nobody behaves like a human being in such a situation would - the fag-y-looking Englishman starts to wax philosophical about fatalism, the old dude is overjoyed to see real killers and the sportsman takes every opportunity to mock and insult the four heavily armed dudes who'd left a massacre on their trail (who, of course, have suddenly lost all their bloodlust and let the hostages get away with any lip service and are okay to leave the guy who took a shot at them, with what amounts to little more than a mere scratch... and Bogey's chief killer's a real stand-up guy when it comes to treating old folk with respect). And the whole bunch of them use this ostensibly highly perilous situation to enthusiastically make long speeches and witter and gibber away - especially, of course, the failed literary type who never tires of spreading his honey-tongued, florid-languaged nonsense (and develops a death wish of which intensity even surpasses the one exhibited by the burly ball player type). And all of it, although somewhat quirky, appears meant to be taken with a straight enough face; well, "somewhat quirky" my ass - this sh-t is downright surreal. Especially when, in the end, the death of the moronic albino is played as some heroic sacrifice. The dope found his true calling, a way to accomplish something with his life - to die for love when it's not needed. Fantastic.
"facts are stupid things" - Ronald Reagan
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