Articles/Interviews

Harry Lomart is a hard case. A very hard man with a record as long as his reach. Born out of lust, raised in brutality, educated in fear, he lives by violence alone. After serving eight years of a life sentence, Harry breaks out of jail. He has only one aim in mind.

Last time she visited him in jug she broke the news. "I want some life... a baby again. I've met someone... didn't mean to... I want a divorce. I'm pregnant"

That's why Lomart wants to kill her. And he's going to, no matter how | many coppers get in his way. He'll take them with him, if necessary. There is no room in his obsessional head for anything beside the act of complete revenege.

She waits on the 20th floor of Penn Buildings, an upturned matchbox of glass and concrete. She knows Lomart will get to her. It's only a matter of time. Pat is the sitting target.

Four days, thinks Lomart, should be enough...

Oliver Reed is the convicted killer, Lomart - a jolting change of pace from his interpretation of Urbain Grandier in Ken Russell's The Devils. Hollywood star Jill St. John his marital target - it's her second British flick in a row, following snuggling up to Sean Connery's 007 on a goldfish-filled water-bed in Diamonds Are Forever.

An electric teaming - for a powerhouse of a movie. A kind of "Son of Get Carter and Villain" in its raw, astringent look at the pockets of hedonism in any large urban capital city's undergrowth.

London is the particular city under this criminal microscope. For London is often much more basic than the bunches of beautiful nonentities doing their unbeautiful things in an attempt to live up, still, to Time's hackneyed "swinging London" imagery.

Director Doug Hickox (Entertaining Mr. Sloane) focusses on the people who live and "operate" over the river in the older, crooked streets and new moonscape architecture that makes South London a planner's nightmare.

Most of them are victims of one sort or another. Success is aimed no higher than day-to-day survival. They don't mess with happiness much. Too abstract.

They deal in far more precise emotions. Like lust. Hate. Fear. Revenge.

Producer Barry Kulick and his director have cast their drama with the utmost care. Ian McShane is Lomart's cell neighbour, Birdy Williams, and TV's outstanding actor of this or any other year, Freddie Jones, is Macneil, man behind the jail-break.

It's quite an escape, too. Via a USAAF transporter, packed with blankets, whiskey and even a blonde bird in the back for those who feel the need. The blonde is top nude model Susan Shaw, increasingly busy in movies of late.

The most adroit piece of casting, however, is TV's Callan, Edward Woodward, as the cop leading the hunt for the escapees. As a working policeman called Milton, he spends his life among throw-outs, opt-outs, drop-outs, rebels, renegades and failures. He deals with the dregs and some of the disgust is bound to rub off. It is Woodward of the Yard who stands between the Lomarts: Reed, the escaped killer with his 9mm. Mauser special, combination rifle and handgun, telescopic sight, silencer and five clips of ammo - and Jill St. John as his lovely target. Lomart's final thrust has overtones of ambiguity. A mixture of frustration and despair. Deep regret and deeper satisfaction.