Bullitt 1968

Frank Bullitt 1968

king cool is Steve McQueen

blue eyes bleed intensity

Mustang fastback green

blonde screen idol in his prime

just the uber-action man

doing most of his own stunts

driving hard in old San Fran

 

mob witness from Chicago

his name is Johnny Ross

will he testify? not likely, man

he needs protection, boss

Bullitt’s got the job’s attention

Vaughn’s Chalmers is the politician

— and he’s your antagonistic prick

Don Gordon is Delgetti— understated slick

Cap’n Sam is Oakland, Cap’n with a crew cut

the mob assassins are comin’ to kill but

Bullitt, he’s a won’t-let-go-nut

his call of duty, manic

Embarcadero door kicked in

a Winchester pump is pumpin’

sawed-off shotgun bloody blasts

sexy sixties soundtrack jazz

screeching tires with pizzazz

 

“How bad?”

“Bad. He’s got a bleeder”

“Frank, the chain was off. He unlocked the door”

“What are his chances?”

“No more than 50-50”

“Shotgun and a back-up man. Professionals”

“Play it by the book from now on”

“Does Chalmers run this case or do I?”

“Excuse me, sir? Are you the policeman that hasn’t eaten?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Doctor, there’s a cardiac arrest in I.C.U.”

“You work your side of the street and I’ll work mine”

 

shawl collar sweater, skinnies and desert boots

is Steve’s Bullitt gear apparel

a patient named Johnny Ross

has disappeared and, well

his chart’s gone missing, boss

hitman strolling hospital hallways

sawed-off shotgun trench coat flair

“Is he about 5′ 10″, gray hair?”

Bullitt says into the phone

“Yes”

jazzy pursuit in the basement zone

bad guy gets away

Norman Fell has the skinniest tie I’ve ever seen

Robert Vaughn’s shoes click and clack

on the hospital floor so clean

 

morning brings green onions

six frozen dinners stacked

and a stolen newspaper

saucy Jacqueline Bisset

plays Cathy, Frank’s squeeze

with her English sensitivities

in her blue pajama top

eating her Wheaties

“Can I get you something?”

 

Frank Bullitt 1968

king cool is Steve McQueen

blue eyes bleed intensity

Mustang fastback green

blonde screen idol in his prime

just the uber-action man

doing most of his own stunts

driving hard in old San Fran

 

“Habeus Corpus, duly noted”

“Now listen to me, Lieutenant”

click

“Alright, nail him. I want him written off”

“No problem”

 

Robert Duval has two bits

he is the Sunshine cab driver

“Two”

“Two what?”

“Calls. He called twice, the second was long distance”

“How do you know it was long distance?”

“He put in a lot of change”

 

nice elbow patches on your sport coat, Frank

get in your Mustang GT

the bad guys in black Charger

are watching you, you see?

GT versus 440 Magnum

cue that funky jazz hum

this classic chase is on, fan

watch out for the cable car, man

passed the green Beetle twice, boys

both burning black rubber noise

taking air in San Francisco

all eight are off the ground

screaming tires smoking sound

suspension slamming is a test

this sequence is the all-time best

shotgun pellets in GT’s glass

bump and a shove in the shiny ass

black Charger is a dusty launch

into Guadalupe’s gas station— ka-boom!

bad guys all blown up

 

Frank Bullitt 1968

king cool is Steve McQueen

blue eyes bleed intensity

Mustang fastback green

blonde screen idol in his prime

just the uber-action man

doing most of his own stunts

driving hard in old San Fran

 

“High speed pursuit? Two men dead?”

“Where’s Ross?”

“Tell him, that’s an order”

“He’s dead”

“When?”

“Last night. I moved him. He’s downstairs under a John Doe”

“You’re sick”

but he’s got one more lead to follow

 

classy Cathy with her scarf-a

in a little yellow Porsche

giving Frank a hand so

he gets to that hotel in San Mateo

“Miss Simmons’ doesn’t answer”

that’s because she’s dead, sir

“Hello? Del? Yeah, yeah, it’s a strangulation”

more jazzy brass and percussion

 

Jackie’s Cathy is disturbed

and Cathy says—

“I thought I knew you but I’m not so sure anymore

Do you let anything reach you? I mean, really reach you?

Nothing really touchs you

You’re living in a sewer, Frank, day after day”

Frank’s response is so sixties, baby—

“That’s where half of it is. You can’t walk away from it”

Cathy: “Your world is so far from the one I know

What will happen to us in time?”

“Time starts now” —no!

Frank, that’s so sublime

 

big pink Simmons’ suitcases searched

Frank and Del perplexed

no passports and no tickets

but thousands in travelers checks

who is Albert E. Renick?

and Simmons a Dorothy Renick too?

“Get a fingerprint check on Ross”

at the autopsy in blue

Ross is Renick, Renick is Ross

Renick is a used car salesman, boss

“Renick has no record of arrests. He’s clean, Frank”

“You sent us to guard the wrong man, Mr. Chalmers”

 

Frank Bullitt 1968

king cool is Steve McQueen

blue eyes bleed intensity

Mustang fastback green

blonde screen idol in his prime

just the uber-action man

doing most of his own stunts

driving hard in old San Fran

 

“Yeah, well Ross took close to 2 million dollars

from the organization

and he set Renick up

to get the heat off him

and he killed Renick’s wife

to shut her up”

 

busy airport of San Fran

reservations on the seven o’clock flight to Rome

“Do you have a Johnny Ross?” they ask the man

no Ross— he is not boarding, not in this line to Rome

he’s on Pan Am to London

stop it with the phone, folks!

they get it stopped, Ross bolts

and the foot chase is a climax

Ross fires at Bullitt off the tarmacs

then back in the terminal

Ross tries to blend

and shoots a guard

but Bullitt shoots Ross

dead— the end

 

Chalmers has a Lincoln

the bumper sticker’s bright

‘Support Your Local Police’

is a fade out for this night

Frank Bullitt makes it

home at dawn— yawn

he looks at sleeping Cathy

takes off his quick draw holster

Bullitt in his bathroom mirror

seeming troubled somehow

“Time starts now”

 

Frank Bullitt 1968

king cool is Steve McQueen

blue eyes bleed intensity

Mustang fastback green

blonde screen idol in his prime

just the uber-action man

doing most of his own stunts

driving hard in old San Fran

About troysherdahl

A blue-collar bohemian with a penchant for fine words and dirty jeans.
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