In the seedy streets of late '60s New York City, smuggling schemes are hatched, large quantities of international drugs skip the customs line and one big-personality gumshoe catches the scent. Heroin is the name of the game, with a major French player looking to expand his operation abroad. Street smart detective Popeye Doyle (Gene Hackman) has a hunch who's responsible, and how they plan to get the drugs into the country, but his track record isn't exactly spotless and his superiors in the police force aren't anxious to give him much leash. These criminals are awfully adept, too, and the mandate to get it done by the book is a major obstacle.

Hackman's sleuth stumbles and fails repeatedly. He shows ugly traits. He's not someone we feel good about cheering, but he's a step up from the snide, murderous scum he targets, and at least his tenacity is admirable. Besides, the city itself may be _The French Connection_'s biggest star: a buzzing, stinking time capsule of cheap lives, dirty air and pervasive corruption that's convincingly cold, real and unforgiving. Director William Friedkin's guerrilla approach to filmmaking is largely responsible, charging his hand-held cameras straight into the bustling crowds (and often without the proper permits). While he's on the chase, Doyle carelessly shoulder-blocks onlookers and recklessly slams his vehicle into oncoming traffic, and it all lacks that familiar air of smooth, polished Hollywood unreality. This almost feels like a lucky documentary crew that caught a big fish during their ride-along, fifty years in the past. The long-gone version of NYC still lives, breaths and barks, an essential component of both the characters who live there and the ways they choose to pass their lives.

The specifics of _The French Connection_'s story are mostly established in passing - mumbled or implied - so, in typical ‘70s fashion, it takes attention and patience to really understand what's going on. I didn't care for the ending, not because it's ambiguous but because it's so hasty, but I enjoyed the ride right up to that point. Particularly the white-knuckled train chase in a commandeered muscle car.

This was my first watch of "The French Connection". It wasn't entirely what I expected. It was less grand than I anticipated as it focused on a drug deal and a pair of cops fighting for respectability.

Gene Hackman absolutely owns this film. His character "Popeye" Doyle is a powder keg and an extremely driven individual. Roy Schieder's "Cloudy" Russo isn't as front and center but is vital to controlling Popeye's violence.

William Friedkin directs this. I don't know if I'm a Friedkin fan. I love "The Exorcist" and thought his later film "Bug" was appealingly weird. The way that he inter-cuts Popeye's surveillance of the suspects is so well done that I found myself trying to peer around corners and through the crowds.

The crime dramas of the 1970's are mostly appealing to me. The way that they capture that particular moment in time seems equal to the film-making from any other era. One of the things that I was astonished by was how totally awful New York looks. It's a filthy, dirty, grimy place. No matter where Popeye and Cloudy went, the dirt of the city was sure to surround them.

I'd heard many good things about the car chase. It's wild but since it's more of a one car pursuit of a train, it didn't have the impact I'd thought it would. Maybe my anticipation was too high.

Now for the ending. It was a letdown. I wasn't disappointed to find out the individual fates of the characters. It was the technique used that bummed me out. Maybe this will be fine with most, but I think I might have preferred a more open ended conclusion.