Thunderbolt and Lightfoot
Our first view of Thunderbolt is of a man behind a pulpit, preaching the Word to small congregation in a tiny, sweltering rural church. He's pretty convincing, until a guy appears in the back and begins firing rounds. A chase commences, plowing through cornfields out the back way. Then a guy in a white Camaro races by, spraying gravel and dust and eventually running the would-be assailant over. The guy keeps driving like a daredevil, the preacher barely able to hang on and work his way into the passenger seat. He learns the driver calls himself Lightfoot. "That an Indian name?", the Preacher asks. "No, but it is American," he answers.
The new compadres continue on into the badlands of Montana, hijacking cars from folks at gas stations and also from a real nutjob, a guy driving around with a raccoon riding shotgun and a trunk full of bunnies, who picks them up. Thunderbolt's a quiet contemplative fellow, Lightfoot's a motormouth, wide-eyed and nervous energy. Both of them utter philosophy, though while Thunderbolt quotes poetry and Scripture, Lightfoot seems fond of old standbys like "a rolling stone gathers no moss". It may be shallow, but it's appropriate in this screenplay.
1974's THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT is another road movie with mismatched protagonists. Clint Eastwood plays Thunderbolt, a career criminal who played preacher while hiding from his former cronies, who falsely believe he double crossed them. Jeff Bridges is Lightfoot, an aimless, shifty kid with nothing holding him down. We don't learn much about his history. The pair grow fond of each other quickly, though Thunderbolt is infinitely wiser, and far more realistic. He knows the other shoe will drop at any moment, lest he get too cozy.
I'm sure some viewers will be peeling back the layers of this screenplay to search for homosexual subtext, as they tend to do any time a story features a close relationship between those of the same gender. The movie moved too fast for me to ponder such things.
Halfway through writer/director Michael Cimino's (THE DEER HUNTER, HEAVEN'S GATE) debut film, two of Thunderbolt's former associates, the vicious Red (George Kennedy) and the more soft spoken Goody (Geoffrey Lewis), appear on the scene with guns to settle the score. Once they learn the truth about their previous heist, the quartet decide to plan a robbery of the same bank/armory the old gang had hit years before.
The acting styles of the four men couldn't be more different, but the contrasts suit the material, in my opinion. Clint's character is a bit gentler than his usual stoic gruffness; he even smiles on occasion (Reports state that Cimino commissioned Bridges with the not enviable task of trying to make the icon laugh on and off camera). Jeff was still a fairly new face in cinemas, but his charisma carries this film over some rough spots; he's pretty right on as a somewhat dangerous but essentially kind-hearted and innocent soul who faces real evil.
That would be Red. Kennedy growls spits and swears his way through an impressively intimidating (if one note) performance, a real old-school SOB who takes an instant disslike to Lightfoot's smart mouth and causalness. Lewis has the least showy part but is quietly impressive as a tag along, walked over sidekick. His performance is more re-action than action, but he's really good here.
THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT is distinguished from other "buddy films" by some oblique humor and the occasional random moment, such as when a fully nude woman appears in a window to flash Lightfoot and a group of other men. The film is slightly upsacle drive-in fare, a cult favorite, very capably directed by Cimino, who convinced Eastwood to toss him the keys. The robbery in the later stages of the film is nicely paced and edited, with subsequent events you may not have seen coming. If you dig '70s cinema and/or the actors, you should give this a chance.
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