“I said I want juniper berries on my pizza!” he snarled. “Not olives! And stop that sniggerin’!”
Running Time (1997) is a surprisingly well-written story about a flash-gang of thieves, by which I mean a criminal gang assembled, on a moment’s notice, as a plan comes together. The jailed leader, Carl, has just been released from prison, out early for good behavior, and the first thing he does is set in motion his next heist, planned over five years, in partnership with good old dependable, didn’t-get-jailed, buddy Patrick.
Who sweetens the deal with a prostitute, Janie, for Carl.
Patrick, who delegated responsibilities to the wrong person.
Yes, this is a salutary tale of why thieves sometimes keep on thieving, giving the audience a taste of the thievish culture of immaturity and flawed understanding of how things work. It’s nicely done.
But the real charm of this story is that it’s told as if it were done in one long take, from Carl being picked up outside the prison by Patrick to Carl’s pell-mell escape, not only from the cops, but arguably from his old life of consorting with failures to a new one. The only break that I recall comes when Carl passes out once or twice. The old Greeks had something similar called the theory of the three unities, and it ties the theatrical elements together.
I won’t recommend Running Time, as there’s a lack of sympathetic characters that leads to a certain puzzlement over why the audience should care, but if you’re looking for something comprehensible, noir, and a bit off-kilter, you could do worse. Enjoy the wordplay. But be careful about watching the sex scene, it just about gave me a crick in the neck.
