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Dirty Harry #11: Death in the Air - by Dane Hartman

"Dirty" Harry Callahan's investigation of a young woman's murder at a busy BART station uncovers a rogue government scientist's experiments in germ warfare.

For a short while, the first three quarters, say, I had my hopes up that I had cracked open a Dirty Harry novel that was not only fun to read, but was actually going to be a Dirty Harry story that felt like a Dirty Harry story.

No such luck.  The novel goes off the rails in the last forty to fifty pages, right around the time that Harry decides to skin a man alive.  Stepping on a gun wound to save the life of an abducted girl, an event from the first Dirty Harry film, that I could buy.  But skinning a man?  That seems a bit over the top, even for a cop as tough and no nonsense as Dirty Harry Callahan.

But while my hopes were up, I was enjoying Death in the Air for the disposable escapism that it was.  The opening crime and action set pieces are quite close in tone to the film series that inspired the spin-offs.  Harry even does his "Did I fire six shots or only five" schtick and the author (Dane Hartman was a publisher created pseudonym) manages to get the "Do you feel lucky, punk" quote right this time around.

The rest of the book is really just a protracted action sequence littered with gun fights, fist fights and various chases that alternate between Harry doing the chasing or Harry getting chased.  The trick is to keep the all the non-stop action rooted in something that feels true to the source material.  It's a trick that this tie-in almost pulled off.  Close, but no 44. Magnum this time around.

Dirty Harry #12: The Dealer of Death - by Dane Hartman

After James William Gallant escapes from prison he has only one goal in mind, to torture and kill the man who put him there.  That man is Inspector Harry Callahan.

Who else would it be?  Lieutenant Bressler?  (If you don't know who Lieutenant Bressler is, then stick a disc of the original Dirty Harry or The Enforcer, the second sequel, into your DVD player and give it a spin.)  Come to think of it, that might make for an interesting story.

As I slogged through The Dealer of Death I kept asking myself a question: Is this book supposed to be funny?  Depending on where the reader is at any given moment, that answer could just as easily be yes as it could be no.  There were plenty of moments sprinkled throughout the book where the author (Dane Hartman was a house name) captured the wry humor found in most of the Dirty Harry films.  But then there were far too many parts where the writing was simply sloppy or struck the wrong tone.  Dirty Harry is not the type of guy that would say, "Your quarrel's with me."

I was also amused by things that, as an almost lifelong resident of the San Francisco Bay Area, I should not have been amused by.  Like the faked suicide at the beginning of the book.  Gallant leads the SFPD on a merry chase through downtown San Francisco and Golden Gate Park before running his stolen car off of a cliff.  I guess I wasn't around for the massive earthquake that lifted the Richmond and Sunset Districts a hundred or so feet above sea level and then sank both the Great Highway and Ocean Beach into the briny deep.  That must have been one hell of a ride, though.

Of the Dirty Harry novels that I have recently read, The Dealer of Death comes the closest to reading like an actual Dirty Harry movie.  Harry stays local throughout the story, busting heads and blasting bad guys, which gets him into the usual troubles with both the press and his superiors.

Although the novel hits the proper Dirty Harry story beats, the book's rhythm is way off.  Harry winds up investigating two separate crimes that, thanks to the brevity of the Category Series format, turn out to share a common link with Gallant.  He also romances the widow of the man Gallant murdered, which is the crime Gallant was serving time in prison for.  But this "romance" is ignored to the point that calling it underdeveloped would be implying that the author spends anytime whatsoever exploring Harry's love life.  Doesn't happen.  Then there are the Idiot Plot moments.  You know, when the characters have to act like idiots in order for the plot to work?  That happens a lot.  I know this book takes place twenty-five or more years ago, but there was enough ballistics and forensic investigation going on that Gallant's "Master Plan" would have been uncovered in a matter of days, and this book evidently takes place over several weeks.  Worst of all is that Harry doesn't act like Harry.  He's way too laid back about someone breaking into his girlfriend's apartment and stealing his firearm.  Then there's the bit where he is racing to save the day and stops for a cheeseburger and a cup of coffee.  That is not Dirty Harry Callahan.  That is Sissy Larry Loserman.

The Dealer of Death was the last in Warner's "Men of Action Books" Dirty Harry spin-off series, but it is far from one of its best.  It's a good thing that there are several more Dirty Harry books that I have yet to read, because I would have hated to finish the series off with this book souring my Dirty Harry memories.

Sudden Impact (1983)

"Go ahead.  Make my day."

San Francisco Police Inspector "Dirty" Harry Callahan (Clint Eastwood) is at it again, putting real force into law enforcement.  When Harry's unique questioning methods cause a local crime boss (Michael Gazzo, in an uncredited cameo) to have a fatal heart attack, the goons come gunning.  Harry's superiors chose to send him to San Paulo (the lovely Santa Cruz, CA) to look into the background of a local murder victim, rather than deal with the loss of life and property damage that is following Callahan around.  But this murder victim's background hides a dark and dirty secret.  He was a participant in a violent gang rape that left one victim comatose and another (Sondra Locke) that is eager to deliver some .38 caliber payback.

I've never been a big admirer of Sudden Impact.  I find the movie to be an ugly and unpleasant viewing experience, but last night I was in an ugly and unpleasant mood and wanted to watch a movie that matched it.  Sudden Impact certainly delivered on that level, but my opinion that it is the weakest entry in the Dirty Harry series to date remains unchanged.

Roger Ebert gave the film a positive review on At the Movies, calling it lean and unencumbered by unnecessary characters or dialog; a Dirty Harry with only the good bits left in.  Watching it again, I have to disagree.  Clint Eastwood's direction is listless at best, unfocused at worst and it robs Sudden Impact of any and all dramatic impact, making the film a shapeless mass of blood and thunder.  Then again, blood and thunder seem to be what most people want out of a Dirty Harry picture.  As I said before, it certainly delivers on that level, but all the other films in the series have managed to weave a story in with all the violent action.  Sudden Impact is just a series of clumsily staged action set pieces connected by shoddily written scenes that barely manage to set up the next action set piece, much less advance the revenge plot that is supposed to be what the film is about.  The less said about that unpleasant and exploitive story line, the better.   

As hollow as the self-parodying final Dirty Harry adventure The Dead Pool turned out to be, it was still far superior to the dreary and mean-spirited Sudden Impact.

Dirty Harry #10: The Blood of Strangers - by Dane Hartman

A bomb explodes in the San Francisco International Airport, killing and wounding dozens.  Two police officers are shot dead, murdered by the fleeing terrorists.  Now the SFPD, the FBI, and the CIA are teaming up to bring those responsible for the attack to justice, and "Dirty" Harry Callahan is just the man they need to investigate this dangerous case.  Too bad that attractive KCVO anchorwoman Ellie Winston is determined to ride shotgun with Harry until the bitter, bloody end.

"Dirty" Harry Callahan as international man of mystery and action?  Excuse me while I scratch and shake my head in confusion at these strange and almost laughable turn of events.  The Blood of Strangers gets off to a promising start, with a reasonably tense sequence involving the setting of the bomb in the airport and the killing of the two police officers.  Ellie Winston's introduction is also nicely done, as is a botched hotel robbery that Harry shuts down as only "Dirty" Harry can.  But then the plot starts to slip off the logic track when the FBI and the CIA send Harry down to Los Angeles to act as bodyguard for a Libyan dignitary they suspect is also a terrorist financier.  Harry saves the man's life during an assassination attempt and earns a seat by the man's side as he returns to Beirut.  That is where the story derails and tumbles down into stupidville, never to recover.

I can suspend my disbelief and accept "Dirty" Harry blasting away assorted criminal scum on the gritty streets of San Francisco, or Boston, or any other metropolitan city he might be visiting in the United States of America.  But engaging in a gunfight at the Paris airport?  Charging a tank in Beirut?  Going Commando in San Salvador?  That I cannot swallow.  "Dirty" Harry is a shoot first and ask questions later cop, not a globe trotting Secret Agent Man.  To paraphrase Harry himself, "a story's got to know its limitations."

Dirty Harry #5: Family Skeletons - by Dane Hartman

When "Dirty" Harry Callahan, San Francisco Police Inspector #71, is forced to take his annual vacation, the trip is anything but restful.  Harry's cousin Linda has contacted him, asking Callahan to come to Boston and help with a family emergency.  A young lady who attended the same church as Linda's estranged daughter has been brutally raped and murdered.  Harry has to figure out if either a serial killer or some kind of bizarre Unitarian cult practicing human sacrifice is threatening the girl.  It's time to bust some heads in Beantown!

Talk about a blast from the past.  Way back in 1982 (when I was just a freshman in High School) Warner Books briefly published a collection of Men's Adventure novels under the imprint title Men of Action Books.  One of the four titles being an official spin-off of Warner Brothers' lucrative Dirty Harry film franchise.  (I don't remember the other series titles, but I am fairly certain one involved either ninjas or mercenaries...or perhaps they were ninja mercenaries.)  Men's Adventure novels were kind of like Harlequin Romance novels, but for guys.  A new and sequentially numbered book came out each month and, instead of all that smoldering sexual tension and mooshy stuff in those girlie-girl Harlequin books, it was a marathon of two-fisted action spiced with enough gunfights, car chases, and explosions to fill three or four Charles Bronson and/or Clint Eastwood movies.  The two most famous Men's Adventure series are The Destroyer and The Executioner.

Dirty Harry seems like a pretty good fit for this kind of thing.  Harry Callahan fought crime by shooting first and reading the suspect's rights second.  If Harry didn't have his gun, then he just punched the suspect until the guy told Callahan whatever it was he wanted to know.  His stock question, always asked while sticking his .44 Magnum in some slimeball's face, was "Do you feel lucky?"  (These books were published prior to Sudden Impact, when Eastwood had supposedly sworn off making anymore Dirty Harry films.  When he changed his mind, he had the line canceled.)   

The twelve Dirty Harry novels of "Dane Hartman" (it was an imprint pseudonym) captured that essence perfectly.  Harry strides stoically through the mystery, uncovering clues through entertaining examples of police brutality and psychological intimidation.  He tracts down suspect after suspect, trying to ask some simple questions.  The suspect always winds up giving Harry some lip and tries to flee.  Harry gives chase, catches the guy after shooting at him once or twice, and then beats some sense into his thick skull.  More often than not, the chase leads to a dead end.  Whenever the footwork threatens to become too pedestrian, some stupid, and thoroughly unrelated to the plot, slimeballs decide to rob a nearby store, bank, or restaurant to give Harry a target to unleash his pent up frustration upon.  This leads to one of those spectacular shootouts that only happens in Dirty Harry movies.  The kind where lots of real estate is demolished, cars crash through fruit carts and flip over, things go boom, and Callahan easily kills or incapacitates every slimeball but the last.  To that cornered rat, Harry points his gun and asks, "Do you feel lucky, asshole?"  Works every time. 

Family Skeletons mystery was a fairly well structured one, though any savvy reader with more than one mystery novel under his or her belt will easily figure out who the real killer is.  The clues were well placed and, best of all, there were no narrative "cheats."  (The equivalent to having Mrs. Voorhees show up in the second to last chapter to explain to the hero the whys and what-fors of all that has happened.  Wait a minute, that does happen.)  At a slim one hundred and seventy-five pages, the story is incapable of straining a reader's brain (if one doesn't stop to think how a vacationing police inspector can run around Boston, randomly shooting at any person he suspects of committing a crime) and the book can be read in a single afternoon.  In some strange and goofy way, this literary guilty pleasure made my day.