The Fugitive (Film Review)
1993 Warner Bros.
Directed by: Andrew Davis; Written by: Jeb Stuart and David Twohy
Starring: Harrison Ford, Tommy Lee Jones, Sela Ward, Joe Pantoliano, Andreas Katsulas, and Jeroen Krabbé
MPAA Rating: R; Running Time: 130 Minutes
The Nicsperiment Score: 10/10
Dr. Richard Kimble comes home from a late night surgery to find his wife bleeding out in their bedroom, and a one-armed man fleeing the scene. The man gets away, Kimble's wife dies, and the good doctor soon finds himself the lead suspect in her murder. Kimble is sentenced to death, and put on a bus to death row, but when his fellow inmates revolt, and the bus ends up wrecked on the tracks of an incoming train, Kimble and one inmate survive and escape. Now, the good doctor must clear his no longer good name, while finding the real killer, and evading the authorities. Unfortunately, "the authorities" include Deputy U.S. Marshal, Sam Gerard, and just as much as Kimble wants justice, Gerard wants Kimble back in handcuffs. The chase is on.
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I co-host a podcast on '90s movies, and as one of that decade's biggest fans, even I have to admit that during the greatest decade, a film as good as 1993's The Fugitive was rare, just as much as it's nearly unheard of today in the 2020s. Portraying Kimble, you've got Harrison Ford as the perfect leading man, vulnerable, yet capable, intelligent, yet tough. Set against him as Gerard is the equally capable, relentless, relaxed intensity of Tommy Lee Jones. It's tough to present two highly intelligent leads with poor writing, though, and quite miraculously, the actors, director, Andrew Davis, and screenwriter, Jeb Stuart, rewrote much of this script on the fly, proof that the major players involved perfectly understood their two lead characters. Davis himself is operating at his highest capacity, and maybe beyond it, as he and his crew tell this story with a sort of highly stylized, noir documentary technique, presenting incredible, Hitchcock-inspired shots that feel gritty and real, in a lived-in environment where the city of Chicago feels like a living, breathing character.
I co-host a podcast on '90s movies, and as one of that decade's biggest fans, even I have to admit that during the greatest decade, a film as good as 1993's The Fugitive was rare, just as much as it's nearly unheard of today in the 2020s. Portraying Kimble, you've got Harrison Ford as the perfect leading man, vulnerable, yet capable, intelligent, yet tough. Set against him as Gerard is the equally capable, relentless, relaxed intensity of Tommy Lee Jones. It's tough to present two highly intelligent leads with poor writing, though, and quite miraculously, the actors, director, Andrew Davis, and screenwriter, Jeb Stuart, rewrote much of this script on the fly, proof that the major players involved perfectly understood their two lead characters. Davis himself is operating at his highest capacity, and maybe beyond it, as he and his crew tell this story with a sort of highly stylized, noir documentary technique, presenting incredible, Hitchcock-inspired shots that feel gritty and real, in a lived-in environment where the city of Chicago feels like a living, breathing character.
The action at the service of this story is huge and adrenalized, and all of the intensity and emotion is heightened by James Newton Howard's incredible symphonic score, one of the best of the decade. When the film grows more meditative, with Kimble playing detective as he attempts to find his wife's killer, and Gerard and his team of U.S. Marshals try to piece everything together, Davis presents the story through incredible montages, and Howard brings out a saxophonist and drums in a manner that would seem idiosyncratic, yet works so well, it's impossible to imagine his music's absence. As for Gerard's team, in a lesser film, they'd fade into the background, but in The Fugitive, they're just as memorable as the leads. Led by the inimitable Joe Pantoliano, the Marshals wisecrack and bounce off each other in a way that feels natural, unscripted, and absolutely delightful. There's no such thing as a B-story in this film. It's all A-story that not only respects the viewer's intelligence, but expects it. It's cinematic perfection.
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