Die Hard
Die Hard
D: John McTiernan (1988); with Bruce Willis, Bonnie Bedelia, Alan Rickman, Alexander Godunov, Reginald VelJohnson, Paul Gleason, De'voreaux White, William Atherton, Hart Bochner. The astonishing and unexpected success of this summer's
Sixth Sense has been fueled by extraordinary word of mouth. I really can't think of the last time so many different people and different sorts of people have recommended the same film. Oddly, given that cross section, a surprising number have added the same caveat: "Bruce Willis turns in a really good performance!?!" -- said with an astonishment that implies this is unusual and unexpected. Hogwash! Willis is a terrific actor who has often turned in exceptional performances beginning with his stint on the TV show
Moonlighting (1985) through this new movie. Look at Willis' filmography; he has been in loads of great movies, and he is always tackling acting challenges. Forget
Hudson Hawke (1991), just since
Pulp Fiction (1994) he's been in
Twelve Monkeys (1995),
Die Hard: With a Vengeance (1995), the underrated
Last Man Standing (1996),
The Fifth Element (1997),
Armageddon (1998), and
The Siege (1998). Most of Willis' best work is in these later movies. He keeps getting better, but he started out pretty good.
Die Hard, the breakout classic that made him a star, holds up as one of the best of all action films. McClane, a New York cop, visits his estranged wife (Bedelia) in Los Angeles, showing up in time for her firm's Christmas party. The celebration is on the 30th floor of the company's new super-skyscraper, which is still under construction. He is a fish out of water at the party until it is invaded by a gang of terrorists who secure the whole building. Holding the guests as hostages, they are there to steal hundreds of millions of dollars in bearer bonds. Their plan is brilliant, ingenious, and precise -- perfect except for one thing: John McClane. He tackles the small army of very professional mercenaries, driven by his brains, his wit, and his superhuman physical capabilities. Willis lets you feel every blow he takes, every banging jump, every new cut to his bare feet. He seems crushed but springs anew at every demand for action. Skillfully directed by McTiernan and shot by Jan De Bont (who went on to direct
Speed and
Twister), this is a classic Hollywood action film with a hero, a problem, and the solution -- a violent choreography of encounter and reaction. McClane tackles the enemy singlehandedly. Even when the authorities (first LAPD then the FBI ) show up, he's the only one who knows what's going on.
Die Hard boasts a feminist thematic arrogance. McClane is insensitive to his wife's ambitions and personal goals. After running the machismo gauntlet through the long night of this adventure, he comes to realize that family is all and to acknowledge his wife more fully as a person. I can hear the spit-takes on this one, though I defend it. Contextualizing its violence as a family-affirming action made the film even more comfortable for liberal audiences (remember when the serious critical reception of
Deep Throat allowed the educated audience to visit pornographic films?). Driving this, of course, is Bedelia's character -- not some empty-headed, ample-bodied starlet. She is his equal. Bedelia, whom I will always revere for her Oscar-nominated performance as race-car driver Shirley "Cha Cha" Muldowney in Jonathan Kaplan's
Heart Like a Wheel (1983), brings her steel to the role. This balance of Willis and Bedelia allows the film its pretensions. The terrific cast makes it happen, from Rickman and Gudunov as really bad guys, through VelJohnson as Willis' LAPD buddy, to Gleason, as a clueless deputy police commissioner, and Atherton, as an evil TV newsman who'd do anything for a story. Still,
Die Hard belongs to Willis. There is the age-old argument that action stars don't act, they just play themselves. The great John Wayne was burdened by this, and it isn't any different now. This is a cinematic thrill ride, and Willis' talent makes it work.
