Wretched title, great film. This is one of the super surprises of my film viewing of movies of the 1970's, an excellent neo noir (directed by the legendary Robert Aldrich) that grabs you from the beginning and doesn't let go. You have to immediately get past dated sensibilities because the sleaziness and dark vision of Los Angeles in the 1970's (practically every city could be substituted, but why go there when you can just go out to your backyard?) is like frosting on cake, and there are many jaw-dropping moments that really make you say "Woah!" It starts off very sweet with a group of kids on a field trip to the beach running to the ocean and the discovery of a young woman's body. From there, we are brought into the world of sexual exploitation and thanks to the performances of Burt Reynolds and Paul Winfield as the detectives, we get to see many elements of the sexual underworld that are sadly believable and result in situations like this that are truly tragic.

Eddie Albert, as a major underworld figure, takes away his lighthearted reputation from "Green Acres" to play a terrific villain. He stands by in a phone booth on a call to another phone booth oh, simply to learn it's been done, and suddenly, "Boom!", a car explodes into a fiery ball of flames. Albert and Reynolds both share the passions of gorgeous French prostitute Catherine Deneuve, and it's obvious that Reynolds is completely in love with her, even knowing what she does, resorting to violence when she is overheard on a phone call with one of her clients. The scene is disturbing but not unrealistic, and oh what fun they have making up.

Two huge thumbs up to the performances of Ben Johnson and Eileen Brennan as the dead girl's parents, with Johnson becoming violent instantly when he identifies the corpse and finds out that she has uncovered. Their story is a major part of the film, with both of them winning sympathy for their grief and Brennan sensational when she reveals to Reynolds her own feelings, resulting in a sweet scene between the two that shows his humanity. That is the genius of this script because it is character-driven, not action-driven, and every character oh, even the sleepiest of them, has elements of them that shows their humanity even in a disgusting world.

The character that Paul Winfield plays is also brilliantly explored, and he is terrific in a scene with Reynolds and Ernest Borgnine as their very racist and sexist boss. As Winfield and Borgnine share a series of tacky observations, Reynolds gets more and more disgusted, is actually telling them off in a way that may make you applaud. Reynolds though shows another side when he visits Jack Carter's sleazy character and continues to kick Carter's associate in the groin until he makes him leave so they can talk alone. It is so dark yet funny, and you keep wondering if the film can continue to top itself which it does when Reynolds and Brennan meet for drinks and she reveals her past.

While the number of films released each year in the 1970's seems to be smaller than those released an individual years from other decades, there are many films that are unsung classics simply because of their stars image. Reynolds in the 1970's was known for a particular kind of film, so this was obviously a surprise for some critics who found it brilliant. Roger Ebert called it a potential cult classic, and certainly, I'm going to recommend this to other film about friends who probably have overlooked like I did. There are many moments that has nothing to do with the main plot that are shocking, such as a very brutal hostage situation and a segment involving an albino suspected of inappropriate dealings with children. As I watched this film, I reassessed my rating, and ultimately decided that not only is this film beyond very good, it is simply superb.

Burt Reynolds is an LA police lieutenant. Paul Winfield is his partner. Catherine Deneuve is his call girl girlfriend. Ben Johnson is a little guy whose daughter just killed herself and he won't accept it. Robert Aldrich directed this portrait of the ugly life of a cop in an ugly city shot in ugly browns by Joseph Biroc. Surely beautiful people like Reynolds and Deneuve deserve better!

Aldrich had a propensity for directing movies about skirting the seamy side of life, but given the DIRTY HARRY movies' success, as well as the sort of 'private justice' modern-dress cop films John Wayne was making in the 1970s, this is a relatively restrained story, of people who skirt the borders between resignation and defiance. It's all very well done, but unappealing.

Having collaborated on "The Longest Yard", director Robert Aldrich cast Burt Reynolds and Eddie Albert again in the enigmatic "Hustle". Reynolds plays LA cop Phil Gaines. He and his wife have basically no relationship, so Phil lives with call girl Nicole Britton (Catherine Deneuve). When a young woman gets found dead on the beach one day, Phil and his colleague Louis Belgrave (Paul Winfield) get hired to investigate. They conclude that she died of a self-induced drug overdose. But they don't tell her parents (Ben Johnson and Eileen Brennan) that there were massive amounts of semen in all three orifices of the woman's body, and that the woman was a stripper in a nightclub. The father is convinced that this was not a suicide, and is determined to investigate on his own if necessary.

I have to say that the movie has a rather convoluted plot: the number of characters - and the question of each character's relationship to each other - makes the whole thing hard to follow at times. As it is, following the revelation of the body at the beginning, the movie sort of throws Phil into the story from right out of the blue. It seems that mostly, the movie functions as a look at the underbelly of 1970s LA, including a hostage situation in one scene. And, if all else fails, there's always something sexy for Catherine Deneuve to do (namely the part about what Switzerland has). A surprise appearance - although they do credit him - is Ernest Borgnine as Phil and Louis's superior; he's the only character who seems as if he's about to have a seizure or something.

Overall, I think that the movie is seeing, if only once. While it is true that the movie progresses pretty slowly, I actually would assert that that adds some realism: not every detective/action story has to be a series of explosions and mayhem.

All in all, a worthwhile movie. BTW, did you notice who the hold up man at the end is? It's Freddy Krueger himself, Robert Englund. And I wonder if David Spielberg is related to Steven Spielberg.

Sammy Davis Jr. hugging Nixon...