The explosive return of Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy to the video shelves in ”Another 48 HRS.” marks the reunion of one of the hottest ”salt and pepper” pairings in recent cinematic history.
Nolte, convincing as a burned-out, cynical cop, and Murphy`s street-smart, wise-cracking con man are paired once again for the sequel to director Walter Hill`s original ”48 HRS.,” a major hit in 1982.
The first ”48 HRS.” combined slam-bang action with a witty script and well-drawn supporting characters. But the principal focus of the feature was the grudging sense of admiration and mutual respect that gradually bloomed between the violence-prone detective and the quick-thinking hustler.
Nolte and Murphy are at odds once again in the sequel (just released in video), also directed by Hill, as the rumpled cop searches desperately for a drug dealer named Iceman that only Murphy can positively identify.
That`s pretty much the scenario in many salt-and-pepper movies: Two individuals hailing from racially disparate backgrounds are thrown together in a crisis situation, often against their will. Despite their differences, however, mutual need eventually outweighs their initial distrust.
The formula really hit box-office paydirt in 1987, when reckless cop Mel Gibson was paired with by-the-book detective Danny Glover in ”Lethal Weapon.” There was action aplenty in both this feature and the even more successful ”Lethal Weapon 2,” but the main attraction was once again the rollicking interplay between the two leads.
The salt-and-pepper cop formula was definitely beginning to exhibit frayed edges by the time ”Downtown” was released earlier this year. This time, it`s the black police officer, portrayed by Forest Whittaker, who`s consistently on the edge, traumatizing his unwilling partner, the naive Anthony Edwards, as they hunt for the killer of Edwards` last partner.
Hollywood has used the salt-and-pepper theme frequently during the last three decades. Director Stanley Kramer`s 1958 blockbuster ”The Defiant Ones” created its share of controversy by shackling Sidney Poitier to Southerner Tony Curtis for a frantic prison escape.
After slogging through the brush together, chained at the wrist, for much of the film, Poitier and Curtis finally learn to accept each other, but not before considerable race-baiting from the prejudiced Curtis character. The picture won Oscars for its screenplay and cinematography, and the New York Film Critics voted it the best film of 1958.
Sammy Davis Jr. and Peter Lawford supplied a name to the genre with their 1968 British collaboration, ”Salt and Pepper,” in which they play a couple of swinging London nightclub owners who get mixed up in international intrigue.
Tennis pros by day, international spies by night: Bill Cosby and Robert Culp were the first salt-and-pepper team to grace the TV dial in the pioneering and highly popular 1965-68 NBC series ”I Spy.” Various episodes of the hourlong action program are available on home video, and you`ll be pleasantly surprised at Cosby`s suave demeanor as a dramatic lead (Culp`s backhand is pretty convincing, as well).
Set just before the Civil War, ”The Skin Game” (1971) finds easy-going James Garner repeatedly selling his traveling partner, Louis Gossett Jr., into slavery, only to immediately rescue him and split the proceeds down the middle. Everything goes swimmingly until villainous Edward Asner, in his pre- Lou Grant heavy days, spoils the pair`s little scheme.
Tatum O`Neal and Irene Cara make a very attractive pair of young ladies on the lam from the law in ”A Certain Fury,” released in 1985. Arraigned for minor offenses, they`re unwillingly brought together when a couple of crazed hookers blast their courtroom to smithereens, later suffering through every sleazy plot cliche imaginable before their eventual capture.
And we can`t forget the weirdest salt-and-pepper combination of them all. Bigoted old doctor Ray Milland awakens from an operation in ”The Thing With Two Heads” (1972) to discover that his balding cranium has been miraculously transplanted onto the gargantuan physique of ex-pro football lineman Roosevelt Grier.
The two-headed monster spends much of the film bickering with itself about its forced coexistence, and the image of Grier cruising along on a motorcycle with a phony Milland head protruding from his shoulder is a difficult one to dismiss.
