In this hard-boiled German-Italian production, Heinz Klett (Raimund Harmstorf), an anarchistic, mad-dog criminal, orchestrates a tricky escape from a Munich courthouse, right out from under the noses of police guards. With his gang -- Luigi (Gianni Macchia), Army deserter Christian (Amadeus August), and Christian's pregnant sister, Helen (Christine Böhm) -- Heinz next plans to rob the Deutsche Finanzbank so he can escape Germany and retire.
The heist is a bungled affair, as there isn't much money in the vault. But the robbers take ten hostages, including the heiress to a supermarket empire, and capitalize on the situation by demanding a million dollars in ransom and various modes of transportation out of the country. The police must contend with both the robbers and citizens who try to take over the investigation at every turn. In a marked contrast to how an American action film might depict a similar crisis, the cautious German constabulary readily accedes to all of Heinz's demands.
When Heinz and company receive the ransom money, they hijack a few of the hostages, including the heiress and a lesbian businesswoman who isn't impressed by Heinz's macho posturing. They get sidetracked to a country cabin, where the robbers' loyalties deteriorate. When a sympathetic Christian helps the heiress escape, she tips off the cops. Heinz rapes and murders the lesbian, while Luigi dies from an accidental gunshot wound. The cops surround the cabin and gun down Heinz, Christian, and Helen.
BLOODY FRIDAY is remarkable for not glamorizing its criminal protagonists, which was not the norm for crime movies of the late 60s and early 70s. It is only when the robbers are finally ambushed that director Rolf Olsen's staging makes a play for sympathy -- be they misguided youth or misunderstood human trash, did they deserve to die? Well, yes.
Olsen, who was more comfortable dabbling in lightweight sex films and mondo's, crams enough incident into the plot to keep our interest. The robbers' heist and subsequent flight from justice recalls every cliche in the book, but some scenes are remarkable -- the suspenseful escape from the courthouse; a toddler carrying a hand grenade outside the bank as if it were a toy; the massacre of the protagonists (equipped with extra large blood squibs); and a remarkably unpleasant rape scene, which is superimposed over slaughterhouse and, if you watch closely, hardcore sex footage.
Most of the cast underplays, which makes Harmstorf's intense performance as Heinz seem better than it is. However, his "Sea Wolf" is amusingly trashy, that of a cigar-chomping, machine gun wielding psychotic.
For those with a background in the social climate of 1972 Germany, one can discern the film's political subtext, with pointed references to Baader-Meinhof and the climate of social malaise that motivates the desperate thieves, as well as the ease with which they nab guns and start terrorizing the upper-class establishment.
The heist is a bungled affair, as there isn't much money in the vault. But the robbers take ten hostages, including the heiress to a supermarket empire, and capitalize on the situation by demanding a million dollars in ransom and various modes of transportation out of the country. The police must contend with both the robbers and citizens who try to take over the investigation at every turn. In a marked contrast to how an American action film might depict a similar crisis, the cautious German constabulary readily accedes to all of Heinz's demands.
When Heinz and company receive the ransom money, they hijack a few of the hostages, including the heiress and a lesbian businesswoman who isn't impressed by Heinz's macho posturing. They get sidetracked to a country cabin, where the robbers' loyalties deteriorate. When a sympathetic Christian helps the heiress escape, she tips off the cops. Heinz rapes and murders the lesbian, while Luigi dies from an accidental gunshot wound. The cops surround the cabin and gun down Heinz, Christian, and Helen.
BLOODY FRIDAY is remarkable for not glamorizing its criminal protagonists, which was not the norm for crime movies of the late 60s and early 70s. It is only when the robbers are finally ambushed that director Rolf Olsen's staging makes a play for sympathy -- be they misguided youth or misunderstood human trash, did they deserve to die? Well, yes.
Olsen, who was more comfortable dabbling in lightweight sex films and mondo's, crams enough incident into the plot to keep our interest. The robbers' heist and subsequent flight from justice recalls every cliche in the book, but some scenes are remarkable -- the suspenseful escape from the courthouse; a toddler carrying a hand grenade outside the bank as if it were a toy; the massacre of the protagonists (equipped with extra large blood squibs); and a remarkably unpleasant rape scene, which is superimposed over slaughterhouse and, if you watch closely, hardcore sex footage.
Most of the cast underplays, which makes Harmstorf's intense performance as Heinz seem better than it is. However, his "Sea Wolf" is amusingly trashy, that of a cigar-chomping, machine gun wielding psychotic.
For those with a background in the social climate of 1972 Germany, one can discern the film's political subtext, with pointed references to Baader-Meinhof and the climate of social malaise that motivates the desperate thieves, as well as the ease with which they nab guns and start terrorizing the upper-class establishment.