This is one strange movie.
Frank, in his final film role, plays Sergeant Delaney, a cop of the old-school who is nearing retirement. And as he ponders an uncertain future, the future reaches out and taps him on the shoulder, in the form of his new Captain (Anthony Zerbe), a 'by-the-book' character who wants to overhaul the department in his own image.
And there's still more to ponder. Someone is out there in the Big City killing people with many a savage blow from an ice-climbing pick. We know that, because we see it in the opening minutes. And chillingly realistic it is, too.
And there's still more. And this is the most puzzling part of the movie, never explained. Frank goes into hospital to visit what seems to be his young daughter, played by Faye Dunaway. She's had a catastrophic kidney collapse and is nearing death.
But as they talk - and as Frank revisits her - it becomes evident that this is no normal father-daughter relationship. In fact, she is his wife. How could that be? I could understand it if Frank, in this flick, was a multi-millionaire. Money does spell sex, after all. But he's just your average pudgy, ageing New York detective wearing a bad toupee.
How could he pull a chick at least 30 years younger than himself? That qualifies this film as a mystery as well as a thriller. Perhaps the film-makers just weren't brave enough to put a realistically-aged actress into that hospital bed?
Anyway, with the assistance of the wife of a victim, of an aged curator of a museum of ancient weapons, and of some of his less orthodox colleagues, Frank is able to identify the ice-pick killer as a serial killer who has been roaming the entire city, not just his precinct. And he is finally able to put both face and name to the killer - the aptly named Daniel Blank (David Dukes).
The new Captain isn't interested in bringing a serial killer to justice, he's more interested in catching pot smokers and parking offenders. So what is an aged sergeant, whose wife is slowly dying, to do? Well, Frank has a pretty good idea, one which would warm the cockles of Clint Eastwood's heart.
It's not a bad movie, once you forget the absurdity of Frank's character being married to Faye Dunaway. Not brilliant, but it has its moments. Frank doesn't extend himself in this role - he wasn't known as One-Take Frank for nothing - but although he uses the same expression for total excitement or terminal boredom, he at least carries the story along reasonably well.
The film left me hovering between under and medium-whelmed. Never overwhelmed. The best thing about this movie is that it isn't a cut-and-dry thriller with a cut-and-dry solution. In fact, the absolute ending is left relatively unknown - at the end of the action you must assess for yourself what the next day will bring.
