01x06 - Profane and Profound

[bunniefuu]

[film projector whirs]

[whistling]

[Walter] I saw 48 Hrs.

at a local multiplex in December, 1982,

when I was nine years old.

My parents dropped me and a buddy off,

and as was the custom,

we snuck into it

after buying tickets for something else.

It was the talk of the third grade,

and seeing it was a rite of passage.

48 Hrs. was developed

at Michael Eisner's Paramount Pictures,

hardly the gold standard

for socially challenging fare.

It was meant to be

a conventional action comedy

and expedient bit

of holiday counter-programming.

But somehow,

director Walter Hill's film

landed in theaters as this edgy,

even dangerous, conversation

about race and identity in America.

It was a conversation I was ready for.

A conversation about us.

A conversation about you and me.

It was the best movie I'd ever seen.

[man]

Police. Open up.

An entry into a forbidden world

of the profane and the violent,

and I didn't understand

even a little bit of it.

But I knew Reggie.

I recognized the defense mechanisms

he'd developed

in coping with the racism

of his day-to-day

as ones I was beginning to develop.

And as the only Chinese kid

in an all-white area of Colorado

I knew guys like Jack too.

You are real stupid for a cop, man.

You're following this guy too close.

Well, most cops are pretty stupid,

but since you landed in jail,

what the hell does that make you?

[Walter]

48 Hrs. is considered the headwaters

for the wave of interracial buddy films

that exploded throughout the '80s and '90s

and continue to grab

big box office numbers today.

Would you stop that?

Essentially staking out this ground

as its own sub-genre.

[man]

S ure that's him?

Yes, I'm sure that's Ellis Brittle.

[Walter] And it was also the flash point

for Eddie Murphy's superstardom.

My name's Reggie Hammond.

The film was his big screen debut,

and after this, Murphy would never

be second billed again.

I believe in the merit system. So far,

you ain't built up no points, boy.

Oh, well, then I'll be real good

from now on, Mr. Cates.

[Walter]

But what 48 Hrs. is not often seen as,

and it should be, is a landmark.

A challenging, even at times progressive

treatise on race relations

in the United States.

Come on, boy, hit it now.

- Boy, hey?

- Yeah, hit it.

[Walter]

There are obvious antecedents for 48 Hrs.

Sidney Poitier's The Defiant Ones and

In the Heat of the Night on the one side

Virgil's a funny name for a n*gg*r boy

from Philadelphia.

What do they call you there?

They call me Mr. Tibbs.

Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder's

Silver Streak and Stir Crazy on the other.

- What are you doing?

- I'm getting bad. Better get bad, Jack,

because if you ain't bad, you're f*cked.

That's right. We bad.

[chuckles]

Uh-huh.

[Walter] The genius of 48 Hrs.

is it occupies a middle space

between Poitier's socially responsible

to the point of self-serious pieces

What's the matter?

You afraid of catching my color?

and Richard Pryor's

more audience-friendly racial schtick.

Look at that. Al Jolson

made a million bucks looking like that.

Directed by Walter Hill,

one of the most successful action

directors this country has produced

48 Hrs. is a violent collision between

commercial and inflammatory elements.

Let me explain one thing to you, n*gg*r.

[Walter] The result is something

that feels fresh, unpredictable.

A buddy comedy

that is neither about buddies

- Jack

- nor at the end, a comedy.

tell me a story.

f*ck you.

Oh, that's one of my favorites.

[Walter]

Shaggy dog Jack, played by Nick Nolte,

is a good cop willing to bend the rules

to get convict Reggie Hammond

released on a 48-hour pass

to help him catch

a vicious cop k*ller named Ganz.

- Thought you were locked up.

- I want the money, as*h*le.

The money that Reggie hid.

[Walter]

Reggie and Ganz have history together.

They were part of a crew on a heist gone

wrong that landed them both in prison,

and Reggie is the only one

who knows where the money is hidden.

- That's the money, Jack.

- Right.

[Walter] It's a master plot

spiced up with a time limit.

The cop only has 48 hours before he has

to take the convict back to prison.

From the very start,

Jack and Reggie are at odds,

but it's the unique

racial dynamics at play

that elevate this cops-and-robbers tale

into something else.

- What happened?

- Just read the f*cking report.

[Walter] Early in the film, we see Jack

and his fellow cops at a police station,

which Hill has taken pains to paint

as multiracial and multi-gendered.

There's nothing from your g*n.

There's no racial division.

It's diverse before the concept

gained cultural momentum.

They're all members of the nation of cop,

and aligned in their prejudice

against those they see as enemies.

The "not cops."

- Is any of them walking around?

- One of the g*ng's still in the slam.

Good.Good.

Get in here, Cates!

[Walter]

Even Jack's boss, Captain Hayden,

played by Frank McRae,

is African-American.

There's tension between Jack and Hayden,

but it's not racial tension.

[Hayden]

You better watch your a*s.

If you screw up,

I can promise you, you're going down.

[Walter] Jack's not a guy

we would characterize as r*cist,

though he will quickly be established

as someone who is not above using

his systemic entitlement as a cudgel.

Jack crosses the Richmond-San Rafael

Bridge on his way to San Quentin.

For most directors, this kind

of establishing shot is just that.

A way to mark a location

with a familiar landmark.

But bridges hold

a special meaning for Walter Hill.

They appear in his films at moments,

like in Crossroads or Streets of Fire,

when his heroes are coming together

or pulling apart.

[Reggie]

Roxanne ♪

[Walter]

Hill introduces Reggie singing "Roxanne,"

by a band that I'm sure is

just coincidentally called The Police.

Roxanne ♪

An ad-lib by Eddie Murphy, it was

the first take of many that spoke to Hill,

despite the expense of licensing

a song from the top of the charts.

And it's the first hint of the movie star

Eddie Murphy will become.

In a different version of this movie,

he'd be singing a racially coded song.

But in a Walter Hill film,

he's singing a song about a prost*tute

being saved from a life of sex work

by a man who won't share her

with someone else.

- Roxanne ♪

- Hey!

[Walter] Whether a connection

is intended here or not,

Reggie will soon take the role

of indentured servitude

under Jack's rough hand.

I thought maybe you were a smart boy.

Throughout their scenes together,

Jack keeps Reggie down

with plantation language, violence

But I own your a*s.

and physical restraints.

[Reggie] Ain't no g*dd*mn way

to start a partnership.

Now get this. We ain't partners,

we ain't brothers, and we ain't friends.

I'm putting you down and keeping you down

until Ganz is locked up or dead.

And if Ganz gets away,

you're gonna be sorry you ever met me.

He states his role as that of "The Man,"

whose job it is to keep him in check.

Established as not a r*cist,

Jack nevertheless comfortably slides

into the role of violent oppressor.

Hill sets the stage here

for 48 Hrs. to be a loaded conversation

You just hang on.

about who literally holds the keys.

The obvious move might have been

to make Jack the hero of the story

to involve us in his romantic failures

and his rebellious streak

his motivation of wanting

to avenge the m*rder of his friend.

But I always and immediately

identified with convict Reggie

the bad guy, who, for me,

was not only never bad,

but deserved every penny

of the money he stole.

Reggie is clearly the oppressed,

but also clearly able.

He's unapologetically horny, self-aware,

and the smartest guy in the film.

We see this quick-witted agility

when he apprehends Luther

while handcuffed to a steering wheel.

What's happening, Luther?

I'm sorry about the door. Did that hurt?

- [Jack] Hammond!

- [Walter] Jack isn't ready to concede.

[Jack]

Hand me that g*n or you're dead.

[Walter] He expresses his humiliation

by calling Reggie "watermelon,"

an instant response to Reggie

gaining power in their relationship.

I don't know what you're smiling at,

watermelon.

[Walter]

Reggie fights back.

He understands Jack's power.

How a badge is permission

to transcend every barrier,

physical and cultural.

[Reggie]

So you a badass?

You know, it's amazing how far

a g*n and a badge will take some guys.

[Walter] Reggie goads Jack,

teases him about his personal life.

Yo, man, tell me about this girlfriend.

Tell me something about

what's her problem besides you?

[Walter] He sleuths out clues

when Jack hits a dead end.

Speaking of moaning,

my stomach is starting to growl.

He's constantly distracting Jack

from his true motivation.

Getting his money back.

There's your g*dd*mn dinner.

It works, because Jack can't bear to be

in a subservient position to this convict,

this Black man.

Remember, Jack's a good cop

but he is still helpless to the systemic

racism hardwired into his behaviors.

Reggie is using

Jack's programming against him.

All right, where to, convict?

Mission District, catch us an Indian.

[tires squeal]

I wonder what reservation

they let him off of.

[Walter] Hill predicts this strategy

in the opening scene,

in which chief villain Ganz

and his partner in crime, Billy Bear,

use a chain g*ng boss's racism

to facilitate their escape.

Maybe you should have stole

a better truck, Tonto.

[Walter] The plan presumes

that the guard is as casually r*cist

as Ganz appears to be viciously r*cist

- Take it easy, chief. He's only joking.

- a llowing for the exchange to escalate.

- Can I have the water, please, sir?

- Firewater, Tonto.

- Is that what you mean? Firewater?

- Right!

- [grunting]

- Hey!

[Walter]

Billy and Ganz stage a brawl.

It's possible the guard

can't even conceive of Billy Bear

being a confederate of Ganz.

I know, for nine-year-old me,

it came as a complete surprise.

It wasn't until decades later

that I realized how my own biases

had been indicted by this ruse.

The guard's racism

ends up getting him k*lled.

[man]

Let's go!

[whinnies]

- In Walter Hill's films

- Cribbs, you take point.

from Southern Comfort to his late Western

cycle, Broken Trail, Wild Bill, Geronimo

and his pilot for David Milch's Deadwood

Is there any other godless thing that

these godless, bloodthirsty heathens do?

systemic racism

is the white man's greatest tool

and also the place

where he's the most vulnerable.

Fugitives are driving

Race is America's Achilles' heel.

- [officer] Two men, one of them's Indian.

- Come on.

[Walter] Ganz and Billy Bear are the first

of the film's two interracial couples.

48 Hrs. is a contest between them,

a mirror for the other.

Ganz and Billy are friends from the start,

and Hill indicates that closeness as Ganz

procures a prost*tute for his friend.

Now, make her an Indian.

No, not with a turban. You know, a squaw.

Jack doesn't facilitate sex for Reggie

until almost the end of the movie.

I got a 20. Have fun, huh?

I'm gonna have sex, Jack.

[Walter] If there are buddies in this

buddy picture, it's Ganz and Billy.

[tires squeal]

Then there's that scene, the centerpiece,

which occurs at almost exactly

the halfway point of the film

as Reggie enters a h*nky-tonk,

a satire of whiteness.

Yeehaw!

[upbeat country music]

Not a very popular place

with the brothers.

Always liked country boys.

They're sure as hell gonna like you.

[Walter] I heard about this scene

long before I saw it.

Howdy.

Audiences at the time started laughing

before it even began.

The excited vocalizations

on that long lead-up

to the first fall on a roller coaster.

- [Reggie] I'd like something to drink!

- Maybe best have a Black Russian.

- [laughs]

- Screenwriter Larry Gross describes it

as a toss-up in the early going

as to whether it would stay or go.

That's a funny joke. I get it. I'm Black.

[Walter]

Early test audiences were torn as well.

But when the dust settled,

here is this legendary moment where

Eddie Murphy emerges as Eddie Murphy.

I'm looking for Billy Bear.

You know where to find him?

I don't give a sh*t what the f*ck

your badge says, n*gg*r.

It's all based on an African-American man

assaulting an entire bar

full of r*cist, redneck idiots.

In an action movie filled with exciting

set pieces, this is the showstopper.

Set in a caricature

of regressive whiteness

dropped in the middle

of the most progressive city in America,

48 Hrs. is many things,

but it's about race.

- I don't like white people.

- [Walter] It's worth stating again

That means I'm enjoying this sh*t.

this is Eddie Murphy

in his very first screen performance.

[laughing]

Oh this is so fabulous. Ain't nothin' like

having a good meal with family.

Younger audiences may only know Murphy

as a shape-shifting,

family-friendly performer.

In fact, Murphy himself

has long driven the narrative

of being a Black performer

white America can agree on.

He's not Black or white. He's Eddie.

But if you backtrack through Shrek

You cut me deep, Shrek.

- Dr. Dolittle

- Come on!

Mulan, The Nutty Professor

and Coming to America

Halt! When you think of garbage,

think of Akeem.

you get back to the sharp edges of films

like Beverly Hills Cop, Trading Places

- You don't know who you're messing with!

- May I suggest using your nightstick?

and especially 48 Hrs.

Before the movies, he was a young stand-up

known for his blue routines

and building heat as the first Black

breakout star of Saturday Night Live.

This is how you answer a door

in my neighborhood.

Who is it?

He idolized Richard Pryor,

who also talked dirty and influenced

people with sharp, polarizing material.

'Cause if you're in an argument

with another man, he may be white,

but it's man-on-man for a minute,

and the sh*t get rough,

he end up calling you "n*gg*r!"

You gotta go, "Oh, sh*t.

Now, I ain't no man no more."

Which, like Eddie, led to edgy, socially

responsible films such as Blue Collar

Everybody know what the plant is.

The "plant" just short for "plantation."

Right on!

before similarly ending up

in humiliating product

as literally a toy for a rich white kid.

I wonder if it's the price

of any kind of real success

in the United States for minorities.

Dial back the angry to keep the men

signing the checks happy.

But in the scene at Torchy's, Eddie Murphy

is still at his most dangerous.

What the hell kind of cop are you?

You know what I am?

I'm your worst f*cking nightmare, man.

A n*gg*r with a badge. I got permission

to kick your f*cking a*s whenever I want.

[Walter]

And in this moment,

he became the most important

Black actor since Sidney Poitier

and for many of the same

norm-shattering reasons.

- Where the f*ck did you get this?

- Tax refund.

Bullshit. You're too f*cking stupid

to have a job.

He's an existential threat

to the ruling order

in a way he arguably never will be again,

not to this extent, on screen.

Hill and Murphy are invested in discussing

race in ways that are frank, unadorned.

[glass shatters]

Profane and profound.

He's representative

of a threatening kind of Blackness.

The kind that is aware of the tactics of

the white ruling class that hate his guts.

There's a new sheriff in town.

And he uses it

as his righteous sword and shield.

And his name is Reggie Hammond.

Y'all be cool. Right on.

[Walter]

Reggie has assumed Jack's power.

And for that transgression,

Jack must reassert his.

[Jack] I want to know

what the f*ck this is all about.

Maybe I don't like the way you asked me,

all right?

Who gives a g*dd*mn what you like?

You're just a spearchucker

with a number stenciled

on the back of his prison fatigues.

[Walter] They get into a fistfight,

and it must be said

that there are few directors

who tell character better through action

than Walter Hill.

Their fighting styles are different.

Jack's is wild and ungainly.

Reggie's, is staccato and sharp.

Reggie keeps his cool throughout

You little f*ck.

until Jack throws him

on a pile of garbage.

[Reggie]

You pushed me in the f*cking garbage?

[Walter] He recognizes the gesture

as condescending.

A line has been crossed.

It's outside the normal race-baiting.

Reggie will not be demeaned

during the course of this 48 hours.

[siren wailing]

[tires screech]

[Jack]

They saved your a*s, convict.

[Reggie] That's what you tell 'em

at the station house.

Yeah, right.

I'll even put it in my report that way.

Yeah, I bet you will.

[Walter]

When Jack tells Reggie

that he's going to put in his report

that he won the fight,

it's an acknowledgment

that though Jack has lost,

he has the institutional power

to control the narrative.

Right, partner.

But one of the marvels of Murphy's

performance is his ability throughout

to imbue Reggie with,

of all things, dignity.

Get this, man. We ain't brothers,

we ain't partners, and we ain't friends.

If Ganz gets away with my money,

you'll be sorry you ever met me.

[Walter]

I have aspired all my life

to have Reggie's confidence and dignity

in my own racial identity.

[upbeat pop music plays]

Later, in Vroman's,

the exact mirror opposite of Torchy's,

the pivotal scene in the movie

occurs as Reggie is in his element.

Vodka with a twist,

and I'd like to run up a tab, please.

[Walter] You can tell,

because he's allowed to open a tab,

and Hill, in another hallmark, gives

the band plenty of time to do their thing.

Hammond, where the hell are you?

Vroman's in the Fillmore.

Yeah, I know you don't know about

this place. The brothers hang out here.

[Walter] 48 Hrs., already an impeccable,

lean vehicle

in this moment becomes something

very much like an important film.

- [music ends]

- [applause]

At this moment, it doesn't matter what

48 Hrs. set out to be. At this moment

Hammond!

for an ostracized kid

looking to make sense of the senseless

- Candy, this is Jack.

- Hello.

And goodbye.

48 Hrs. is truly great.

Jack apologizes.

"n*gg*r" and "watermelon,"

I didn't mean that stuff.

I was just doing my job, keeping you down.

Yeah, well, "doing your job"

don't explain everything, Jack.

Yeah, you're right.

[Walter] And Reggie tells him,

in an almost offhand way

[laughs]

that Jack is not, in fact, forgiven.

Even as a nine-year-old kid,

I recognized the grace

of this practiced, measured dismissal

of a buddy's blindness to my pain,

and the lengths I would go

to make these uncomfortable moments

as invisible as I felt.

When I first saw this film, I was too

young to unpack all of my reactions to it,

much less begin to unravel

the riddle of race and representation

in the United States.

I'm not sure

it's a knot we'll ever fully untangle.

I got five deaths related to Ganz,

and you blow it

for a lousy n*gg*r convict!

That's right! I called him a n*gg*r!

You bet I did!

There's no hugging it out

between Jack and Reggie

but there is devastating indictment

of how white and Black Americans

circle around

these hyper-charged racial divides

that are embedded in our country

without ever bridging that chasm.

Now wait a minute, g*dd*mn it! I'm gonna

tell you something about this man.

He has more brains than you'll ever know.

Got more guts than any partner I ever had.

You go f*ck yourself, convict!

[Walter]

At the end of it all,

Jack goes back to his corner

and Reggie goes back to jail.

Wait a minute.

Ganz got away with all my money,

and you gonna take me back to jail

in my own car.

Somehow, this sh*t don't seem right.

Yeah, a lot of things don't seem right.

They aren't friends, but they are closer

to what Ganz and Billy Bear were

at the beginning of 48 Hrs.

Co-conspirators in a crime.

Maybe that's as close as we ever get.

When Reggie and Jack make a deal

about the money that Reggie's stolen

This what you wanna talk about?

it's predicated on trust, and there's

a feeling, confirmed by the sequel

It's your money. It'll be there

in six months when you get out.

that Jack's not to be trusted.

I'm gonna be an honest man

from now on, right?

Reggie isn't to be trusted either.

Can I have my lighter back, Reggie?

[chuckles]

[Walter] 48 Hrs. isn't a buddy comedy,

because they're not buddies.

And more than not being a comedy,

it's a tragedy

in which whatever brotherhood discovered

by these men is abandoned at the end

by the circumstances

of our shared reality.

Maybe it's the great American tragedy

that however long

we spend in one another's company,

I will only ever be one thing

in your eyes

and you will only ever be

the thing who doesn't see me.

[dramatic music plays]