Meek American mathematician David Sumner (a fine and credible performance by Dustin Hoffman) and his restless young wife Amy (a very brave and strong portrayal by Susan George) settle in a remote rural England village for some peace and quiet. However, their tranquility gets disrupted by a gang of local toughs.
Director Sam Peckinpah ably crafts an extremely tense and uncomfortable atmosphere as well as deftly generates plenty of nerve-wracking suspense, grounds the gripping premise in a plausibly drab workaday reality, and stages the startling climax with his trademark sinewy brio. The taut and unflinching script by Peckinpah and David Zelag Goodman makes a supremely unsettling statement that one can't escape from either brutality or confrontation no matter how hard one tries to; alas, mankind's capacity for cruelty is a tragically pervasive and ubiquitous thing that infects us all to some degree or another. Of course, this film further hammers home the central bitter point that even the most passive and mild-mannered person can commit acts of savage violence if pushed far enough over the edge.
Hoffman and George both do sterling work in the lead roles; they receive sturdy support from Peter Vaughan as gruff patriarch Tom Hedden, T.P. McKenna as no-nonsense lawman Major John Scott, Del Henney as Amy's still smitten former boyfriend Charlie Venner, Jim Norton as the crude Chris Cawsey, Ken Hutchison as the equally boorish Norman Scutt, Sally Thomsett as teasing young tart Janice, and David Warner as child-like, but still dangerous simpleton Henry Niles. Both John Coquillon's crisp cinematography and Jerry Fielding's spare melodic score are up to speed. By no means a pleasant movie, but nonetheless a highly potent and disturbing one.
Director Sam Peckinpah ably crafts an extremely tense and uncomfortable atmosphere as well as deftly generates plenty of nerve-wracking suspense, grounds the gripping premise in a plausibly drab workaday reality, and stages the startling climax with his trademark sinewy brio. The taut and unflinching script by Peckinpah and David Zelag Goodman makes a supremely unsettling statement that one can't escape from either brutality or confrontation no matter how hard one tries to; alas, mankind's capacity for cruelty is a tragically pervasive and ubiquitous thing that infects us all to some degree or another. Of course, this film further hammers home the central bitter point that even the most passive and mild-mannered person can commit acts of savage violence if pushed far enough over the edge.
Hoffman and George both do sterling work in the lead roles; they receive sturdy support from Peter Vaughan as gruff patriarch Tom Hedden, T.P. McKenna as no-nonsense lawman Major John Scott, Del Henney as Amy's still smitten former boyfriend Charlie Venner, Jim Norton as the crude Chris Cawsey, Ken Hutchison as the equally boorish Norman Scutt, Sally Thomsett as teasing young tart Janice, and David Warner as child-like, but still dangerous simpleton Henry Niles. Both John Coquillon's crisp cinematography and Jerry Fielding's spare melodic score are up to speed. By no means a pleasant movie, but nonetheless a highly potent and disturbing one.