Rent The Seven-Ups (1973)

Slightly Fizzing - The Seven-Ups review by CH

Time was, before the Disneyfication of Times Square and 42nd Street, when New York was grime incarnate. A reminder of this comes with The Seven-Ups (1973), directed by Philip D'Antoni, who had produced Bullitt and The French Connection. Despite intermittent sunshine, a bleak, wintry city is made all the more so for a crack team of Police, led by Roy Schneider, on the trail of various, often corpulent gangs who are pulling off large crimes. Any who are caught face a minimum of seven years in gaol - hence the Police team's nickname of the Seven-Ups.

A reminder of what they are up against is painted upon a blind in their weatherbeaten office: keep the blind down, there may be snipers. This is a world in which a fast mumble is the favoured method of discourse, all of it obscuring who might be working for which side.

As a narrative, it is not the best paced, but it does turn around a number of set pieces, high among them two visits to an automatic car wash (small wonder sensible people now prefer “valet cleaning”), a less-than-holy funeral - and, of course, what has a fair claim to be cinema's greatest car chase (the children who jump out of the way could still be having nightmares about their day as extras). This chase, which must have taken longer to film than all of the rest of it, makes it worthwhile.

Lucky Number Scheider - The Seven-Ups review by griggs

Roy Scheider deserved more leading roles. The Seven-Ups makes the case — he steps into the lead with the ease of someone who was always meant to be there, and the film has the good sense to let him drive.

The plot follows a plainclothes NYPD unit targeting criminals facing seven years or more. It’s a lean, tough procedural that trusts you to keep up rather than explaining itself. Early-70s New York looks simultaneously menacing and alive in ways no other city quite manages

And then there’s the car chase. You know there’s going to be a car chase. It earns every second — extended, brutal, and staged with remarkable clarity.

The supporting cast is full of great, craggy, only-in-New-York faces — nobody looks like a film star, but you’d swear they just stepped in from Mulberry Street.

Does it hit the heights it’s chasing? Nearly. It’s more reliable than revelatory, but reliable undersells it. The Seven-Ups is taut and purposeful. Scheider makes it all look effortless. Lucky seven.