In the shadowed alleys of Prohibition Chicago, a federal agent’s crusade against the untouchable Al Capone exploded into one of the 1980s’ most electrifying crime epics, blending gritty realism with operatic flair.

Step into the thunderous world of The Untouchables (1987), where lawmen clash with mobsters in a symphony of tommy guns and moral fury, all wrapped in the glossy sheen of Reagan-era cinema. This Brian De Palma masterpiece not only revived the gangster genre but also captured the era’s fascination with heroic individualism and stylish violence.

  • The film’s meticulous recreation of 1930s Chicago through 1980s lenses, highlighting iconic set pieces like the Union Station shootout.
  • Sean Connery’s Oscar-winning turn as the grizzled mentor Jim Malone, injecting heart into a tale of unyielding justice.
  • Its enduring legacy as a bridge between classic Hollywood mob dramas and modern blockbusters, influencing everything from TV procedurals to video game narratives.

The Untouchables (1987): Capone’s Fall in Reagan-Era Glory

Prohibition’s Brutal Backdrop

The film plunges viewers straight into the corrupt heart of 1920s Chicago, a city gripped by Al Capone’s iron-fisted bootlegging empire. Treasury agent Eliot Ness arrives from Washington, tasked with enforcing the Volstead Act amid a tide of illegal liquor flowing like the Chicago River. Capone, portrayed with volcanic charisma by Robert De Niro, rules from his opulent suite in the Lexington Hotel, doling out baseball bats to disloyal underlings and skimming millions from the underworld economy. Ness’s early raids falter against bribed cops and armed convoys, underscoring the era’s systemic rot where justice bends to the highest bidder.

De Palma masterfully contrasts the speakeasies’ smoky haze with Ness’s pristine home life, where his wife urges caution amid mounting threats. This domestic anchor grounds the escalating violence, reminding audiences that the untouchables’ name signifies not invincibility but moral purity. The script, penned by David Mamet, crackles with terse dialogue that elevates every confrontation, from boardroom schemes to back-alley ambushes.

Assembling the Elite Squad

Ness’s breakthrough comes in recruiting an incorruptible team: the green accounting whiz Oscar Wallace, the Italian-American sharpshooter George Stone, and the weathered beat cop Jim Malone. Sean Connery embodies Malone as a philosophical streetwise sage, dispensing wisdom like “They pull a knife, you pull a gun” in a thick Scottish brogue that somehow fits the Windy City. Their first joint operation, storming a Canadian border shipment under blizzard conditions, delivers pulse-pounding action choreographed with balletic precision.

Malone’s apartment, cluttered with Irish whiskey and baseball bats, becomes the squad’s nerve centre, fostering bonds forged in shared peril. Wallace’s ledger work exposes Capone’s tax evasion, the chink in the gangster’s armour that propels the plot toward courtroom drama. Stone’s hot-headed prowess shines in tense stakeouts, blending loyalty with explosive marksmanship.

The Odessa Steps Echo

No sequence defines The Untouchables more than the Union Station massacre, a homage to Sergei Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin staircase slaughter. As Ness and his men escort Wallace down the steps with Capone’s bookkeeper in custody, a hit squad unleashes a hail of bullets. Prams tumble in slow motion, innocents crumple, and heroes dive for cover in a masterclass of editing and practical effects. De Palma’s camera weaves through the chaos, heightening tension with rhythmic cuts and Morricone’s swelling score.

This set piece encapsulates the film’s thesis: civilisation’s fragility against organised savagery. The aftermath sees vengeance exacted, but at the cost of Wallace’s life, pushing Ness deeper into moral ambiguity. De Niro’s Capone, meanwhile, erupts in a profane dinner rant, humanising the monster through petulant rage.

80s Gloss on 30s Grit

What sets The Untouchables apart in the 1980s canon is its fusion of period authenticity with contemporary swagger. Production designer Patrizia von Brandenstein recreated Chicago’s Art Deco splendour using Toronto facades, bathing scenes in golden-hour lighting that screams excess. Costumes channel pinstripe suits and fedoras, yet the hair and makeup carry an unmistakable 80s polish—think Costner’s blow-dried coif amid the flapper fringes.

Ennio Morricone’s score blends Irish laments with brassy fanfares, evoking both melancholy and triumph. The soundtrack’s operatic sweep mirrors the era’s blockbuster ambitions, akin to Top Gun‘s adrenaline highs but rooted in historical heft. This stylistic marriage propelled the film to over $100 million at the box office, cementing its status as a summer smash.

Moral Reckoning in the Courtroom

The climax unfolds not in gun smoke but gavels, as the untouchables testify against Capone. Juror tampering forces a last-minute switch, echoing real-life drama from Ness’s book. Capone’s downfall via income tax charges underscores the film’s wry commentary on American justice—bigger fish slip through nets until accountants intervene. Ness walks away wiser, family intact, as Chicago exhales.

De Palma layers irony throughout: the untouchables sustain casualties, their purity tested by brutality. Themes of fatherhood resonate, from Capone’s twisted paternalism to Ness’s protective instincts, reflecting 1980s anxieties over family values amid yuppie excess.

Cultural Tsunami and Collector’s Gold

Released amid Reagan’s war on drugs, The Untouchables tapped into national cravings for square-jawed heroes battling urban decay. It spawned a short-lived TV series and endless merchandise, from novelisations to arcade games. Collectors prize original posters with their bold red-and-black palettes, while VHS tapes in slimline cases evoke late-night Blockbuster rentals.

The film’s influence ripples through Boardwalk Empire, Peaky Blinders, and even Mafia video games, where moral choice systems echo Ness’s dilemmas. Its gangster archetype endures, blending myth with history in a way few 80s films achieve.

Production Fireworks

Behind the glamour lay turmoil: Costner, a rising star post-Silverado, clashed with De Palma over tone, pushing for restraint amid the director’s flair for excess. Connery signed on after turning down Bond cameos, drawn by Mamet’s dialogue. De Niro ballooned 30 pounds for Capone, immersing via biographies and newsreels. Budget overruns hit $25 million, but Paramount’s faith paid dividends.

Stunts pushed boundaries—the staircase scene used real squibs and hidden wires, injuring no one but thrilling audiences. Morricone composed amid transatlantic flights, delivering a theme that became awards bait. These anecdotes reveal a passion project elevated by collaborative grit.

Legacy in Retro Reverie

Today, The Untouchables stands as a touchstone for 80s cinema’s golden age, bridging Scarface‘s nihilism with Lethal Weapon‘s bromance. Home video revivals and 4K restorations keep it vibrant for millennials discovering dad’s tapes. Fan theories abound on alternate cuts, like unused Frank Nitti subplots, fuelling forum debates.

For collectors, steelbooks and Criterion editions command premiums, their liner notes dissecting De Palma’s Hitchcockian touches. The film reminds us why we hoard nostalgia: not just escapism, but a portal to eras when heroes wore fedoras and villains swung bats.

Director in the Spotlight: Brian De Palma

Brian De Palma, born in 1940 in Newark, New Jersey, to a surgeon father and former mental patient mother, channelled family tensions into a career dissecting voyeurism and violence. He studied physics at Columbia University before pivoting to film at Sarah Lawrence, debuting with experimental shorts like Wotan’s Wake (1962). His feature breakthrough, The Wedding Party (1964, released 1969), starred Jill Clayburgh and foreshadowed ensemble dynamics.

De Palma honed his craft in the 1970s horror boom: Sisters (1973) twisted Hitchcock with conjoined siblings; Phantom of the Paradise (1974) rocked a Faust riff with Paul Williams; Carrie (1976) launched Sissy Spacek via Stephen King, grossing $33 million. The Fury (1978) amped telekinetic thrills, while Dressed to Kill (1980) courted controversy with Angie Dickinson’s shower slaying.

The 1980s elevated him to A-list: Blow Out (1981) starring John Travolta dissected media conspiracies; Scarface (1983) mythologised Tony Montana with Al Pacino, enduring as a hip-hop touchstone despite initial pans. Body Double (1984) pushed erotic suspense. Post-Untouchables, The Bonfire of the Vanities (1990) flopped, but Carlito’s Way (1993) redeemed with Pacino again. Mission: Impossible (1996) blockbustered Cruise; Snake Eyes (1998) innovated single-take fights.

Millennium works included Mission to Mars (2000) sci-fi; Femme Fatale (2002) erotic caper; The Black Dahlia (2006) noir flop. Later: Passion (2012), Domestic Disturbance redux vibes. Influenced by Hitchcock and Godard, De Palma’s split-screens, dollies, and voyeurism define his oeuvre. Retired-ish, he mentors via podcasts, his legacy a provocative counterpoint to Spielbergian warmth.

Actor in the Spotlight: Sean Connery

Sir Sean Connery, born Thomas Connery in 1930 Edinburgh’s Fountainbridge slums to a truck driver father and cleaner mother, embodied rugged masculinity. A bodybuilder and milkman, he modelled before theatre: <em{South Pacific chorus (1954). TV’s Requiem for a Heavyweight led to Bond.

Dr. No (1962) ignited 007 mania; From Russia with Love (1963), Goldfinger (1964), Thunderball (1965), You Only Live Twice (1967), Diamonds Are Forever (1971). He ditched Bond for The Man Who Would Be King (1975) with Caine; The Wind and the Lion (1975); The Great Train Robbery (1979).

1980s renaissance: Highlander (1986) immortal; The Untouchables (1987) Oscar for Malone; Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) as Senior Jones. The Hunt for Red October (1990); The Russia House (1990); Medicine Man (1992); Bond return Never Say Never Again (1983). The Rock (1996); Entrapment (1999); Finding Forrester (2000).

Knighthood 2000; retired post-The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003). Philanthropy for Scottish independence; died 2020. Voice in Sir Billi (2013). Awards: BAFTA, Oscars (Supporting 1988), Golden Globes. Filmography spans 007’s suavity to grizzled gravitas, defining screen presence.

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Bibliography

De Palma, B. (1987) The Untouchables. Paramount Pictures.

Ebert, R. (1987) The Untouchables. Chicago Sun-Times, 22 June. Available at: https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/the-untouchables-1987 (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

French, P. (1987) The Untouchables. The Observer, 28 June.

Klein, M. and Palmer, M. (1996) The Films of Brian De Palma. Cambridge University Press.

Ness, E. and Fraley, O. (1947) The Untouchables. Ziff-Davis Publishing.

Variety Staff (1987) Untouchables bows to strong B.O. Variety, 24 June. Available at: https://variety.com/1987/film/news/untouchables-bows-to-strong-b-o-1200441987/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Yule, A. (1991) Sean Connery: Unauthorized Biography. St Martin’s Press.

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