The story, direction, characters, and writing/dialogue is akin to taking a tranquilizer shot to the neck, but everything else was so well done.

Although I seem to have had higher expectations than I thought, the movie is super entertaining.

what a terribly boring film. I'm sorry but this is absolutely not deserving of best picture and will be forgotten quickly. Entertaining and engaging cinema? No. Nothing performances with flat faces and mistaking silence for subtlety.

The film never slows down or bores, plunging from one harrowing sequence to the next.

--that is the embodiment of the stripped-down, lean, hard look of LA 'noir-in-broad-daylight' crime drama of the early 70's. Trintignant plays a 'shades of Camus' hit-man who's imported from France to make a completely impersonal hit on an organized crime figure he does not know; Scheider is the equally stony hit-man hired to kill him (I get a laugh out of the mental picture of these two actors probably having on-set competitions to see which one could remain the most poker-faced throughout the shoot. Tough call as to who'd win). Ann-Margaret is fetching and somewhat pathetic as Trintignant's hooker ex-flame who puts herself in danger to protect him in spite of his apparent coldness and indifference to her; Angie Dickinson is suitably ice-maidish as the crime boss's widow who has her own hand involved in his murder, and Alex Rocco is suitable sleazy as her lover and the boss's heir apparent. There are also some funny bits from Georgia Engel as a dippy housewife who manages to cross the paths of both hit men (and wants to know aloud 'where the TV people are' when she gets questioned by the cops a second time), and quick appearances by John Hillerman and Talia Shire. The ending is a particularly bleak 'nobody wins' scenario that smacks hard of French Existentialism; in fact the film's whole chill sensibility makes it easy to spot the European influence. The old Venice Amusement Pier also makes an effective guest appearance in all its rotting glory. A pretty good film in its own right, and if you're feeling a degree of nostalgia for the period, the backgrounds make for a good dose of the era's look and feel.

A fast paced thriller directed by Jacques Deray and starring Jean-Louis Trintignant as a French hit-man who goes to Los Angeles to kill a mob boss only to find himself pursued relentlessly by American hit-man Roy Scheider. With its European sensibility and LA locations, THE OUTSIDE MAN is something of an oddity. Trintignant is excellent --- nobody played an outsider better than him in the '70s. Scheider scowls and grits his teeth a lot. A barely dressed Ann-Margret is the bad girl who helps Trintignant out. The supporting cast is truly bizarre --- Georgia Engel is an uncooperative, publicity happy housewife, Angie Dickinson plays the mob boss's wife but has so few lines, it's a wonder why she was cast. Alex Rocco, Jackie Earle Haley and John Hillerman also have small roles.

After reading the comments here I decided to go see this movie when it played at a revival house. Now that I have seen as much of "The Outside Man" as I could stomach, I'm baffled by these other responses.What some film buffs will accept in the name of nostalgia for a "Lost LA" knows no bounds. If this movie were set in some other place, no one would ever give it his/her time. It is shot like a TV movie (I'm not entirely convinced that it was *not* a TV movie, given the number of TV actors who appear). It is very, very poorly written, acted, and directed. Shoddy, even. The dialogue is stiff, but not even stiff in a clipped, noirish way, or in a way that could provide camp value. The actors are so wooden that they often wait an extra beat and glance off camera before delivering their responses to one another. The editing is absurd.The film boils down to a series of vignettes involving our alienated French hit-man encountering and negotiating "LA scenes"--the boring housewife, the biker gang, the jesus-freak, the 'tough' blonde hooker, etc. None of these scenes connects with any other in any significant way. They're all just slices of life in 'gritty' LA, but shot in such a fake way that there is nothing whatsoever of 'the real' about them.Of course, I'm not really qualified to speak about the movie as a whole, because I walked out. I have now walked out of a grand total of 3 movies in my life. I felt so liberated when I left, though, that it almost made watching the first half an hour or 45 minutes worth it. Perhaps for many people the nostalgia factor overrides these critiques. I understand nostalgia for old LA, too, but for a city that was in fact entirely different than the LA of today (such as the one portrayed in "Mildred Pierce," say). This movie, however, focuses on LA as a hip, modern city, with rivers of freeways and 6-lane boulevards swamped with traffic. How different this is from today's LA is unclear to me. Sure, one can look at this film and say, "Gee, I remember when that club was still open," or "Oh, I loved that old pier." But these feelings run entirely counter to what this film says about LA: that it doesn't care about people's sentimental attachments to particular places and things, so get out of the way or become part of the pavement. Let's face it, post-1950 or so, LA became a city defined by rapid change, of plowing under the old so the young citizens of today can make their mark. (Of course, pockets of 'old LA' still remain, and always will; not everything can get plowed under as efficiently as late capitalism would like.) This notion of change defines LA. However, some people cling to nostalgia for a particular era, even if it runs counter to what LA was 30 years ago and is today. This is a typical American set of actions and sentiments: destroy what is in order to bring on something new; glorify this destruction and change while it's happening; regret that we have brought about this change once it has been effected; build monuments to that which we have destroyed; lovingly remember that which has passed because it seems to come from a more innocent time; rebuke ourselves for ever thinking that we should have destroyed what was; repeat.I swear, in a few years people are going to be saying things like, "I really miss that pocked old parking lot that surrounded the Cinerama Dome."

Very low key actioner with sprinkles of offbeat humor. French hit man does a job only to find the roles are reversed and he is now the target of another hit man. Trintignant is well cast as a man not only confused with his unusual predicament, but also with southern California culture. There's been many, many films done in Los Angeles, but the excellent location shooting seems to show you a whole new city. Although the film stays very true to it's unique form the downbeat ending could've and should've been avoided. Georgia Engle is a delight as a dumb housewife.