Directed by Andrew Davis. Written by Jeb Stuart and David Twohy
Richard Kimble stands at the edge of a dam, 225 feet above an angry rush of ice-cold water. He’s on the run, a convicted felon sentenced to die for the murder of his wife. Kimble is desperate, because he is innocent, but that doesn’t matter to the U.S. Marshal who’s got him cornered, now yelling at him to drop to his knees and raise his hands above his head.
Instead, he jumps.
Should you choose to watch The Fugitive, you’ll have to make a similar leap of faith, as you will have to go along with its premise of a cardiovascular surgeon who must stay one step ahead of a state-wide manhunt, not only for a few days, but for many weeks, all the while trying to solve the conspiracy against him that saw him framed for the gruesome killing of his beloved wife.
But know this: if you make that leap of faith, you will be rewarded.
Because The Fugitive is that rare perfect thriller that somehow can’t help itself from turning out perfect scene after scene, exhilarating minute after minute, iconic shot after shot. Some movies make excellence look effortless, and this is one.
Harrison Ford plays Richard Kimble and is probably the only man who could make you believe a cardiovascular surgeon could win a fistfight and have the mental resources to carry out a vengeful investigation while also eluding some of the country’s best lawmen. He’s warm to the touch, steely, and resourceful.
Speaking of lawmen, Tommy Lee Jones is a wicked delight as U.S. Marshal Gerard, the man leading the chase. He plays whack-a-mole with every single line he’s given and pours the mold for every idiosyncratic but tough-as-nails cop you’ll see pop up hereafter. You laugh at him, admire him, fear him, and hope you won’t ever have to deal with him, both as a fugitive or colleague.
Staying ahead of him takes something special, and The Fugitive provides that feeling you get when you’re sprinting full tilt and begin to topple forward over your own feet, somehow staying upright while hurdling forward. It’s a giddy, if unsure, thrill, because the entire time you’re waiting for it all to come crashing down. Yet it never does.
One-hundred-and-thirty minutes are over before you know it, and you will have been holding hands with your armrest for the entire duration. A thriller can’t give you any better than that.
Mikkel Frederiksen 