Oh man is this bad! Like bad eighties poster art bad! Friedkin takes his amoral cop story from The French Connection‘s NY and moves it to LA, with all the unlikable machismo fully intact. But the 70s grit in the two French Connection movies has been replaced by a 1980s sheen. I can just hear the cinematographer: “More reds! More reds!” The dialogue is atrocious, the acting stilted, and the story cliched (a cop’s partner killed just days before his retirement). Is it supposed to be like noir in the California sunshine? Been done a thousand times better with Point Blank. And the music! Nothing could date a film to 1985 more painfully than Wang Chung. I guess this is a one-stop-shop for all the depths of the decade, for those who like to mix their nostalgia with masochism.