The Hot Rock (1972) is a quirky little comedy from director Peter Yates, he of the beloved bicycle racing, college cutting, offbeat romantic comedy, Breaking Away (1979). Indeed, the only reason I keep TiVo'ing Yates' movies when they come on cable is in the hopes any of them will turn out with even a fraction of the charm of Breaking Away, which is perhaps unfair, as that film overflows with charm and innocent joie de vivre. It might be more reasonable to ask whether any of Yates' films have something of that film's magic or chemistry. In the case of The Hot Rock, I'd have to say, unfortunately, not too much, though it has its moments.

The story is very simple: a career criminal named Dortmunder (Robert Redford) with a streak of bad luck exits jail and immediately is set upon by his brother-in-law (George Segal) who has a brand new heist in store: stealing a diamond from the Brooklyn Museum and returning it to an African diplomat (Moses Gunn) who claims it had been stolen from his country, and that it possesses significant cultural value. It doesn't take long to convince Dortmunder to agree, and he assembles a team of four pros who will split the $100,000 award. The story traces their partial successes and mounting setbacks, including a run-in with Abe Greenberg (Zero Mostel), the rapacious father of one of the burglars. There's even a tiny part for Christopher Guest (director of Best in Show and co-creator of Spinal Tap) in his first credited movie. A hip jazz score by Quincy Jones keeps things bouncing along, a perfect balance to the sashaying coolness of George Segal. For those who like to see New York City on film, there are many location shots, mainly on the East Side.

The cast is pretty great, the music is fun, and the locations are a treat, but the story is so repetitive and thin, and the characters so weakly developed, that it's a little hard to remain fully engaged. On the plus side is the general zaniness: they don't really make movies like this anymore. The Hot Rock is like a strange love child of the Ocean's 11 (and counting) movies, and Woody Allen's Sleeper (minus the million gags of the latter). Peppy, whizzing along to Dixieland capers, moving in a predictable rhythm to its inevitable end. Not at all bad, and at times, delightful, but all in all, a tad forgettable. I recommend the film for a lazy Sunday afternoon, if you can catch it on the TV. It's available on DVD, so presumably you could rent or own it, but I can't see going out of my way to procure this minor filigree.


Recommended:
Yes