Traveling aimlessly after retirement, a former government agent (Burt Reynolds) stumbles into a small town laid siege by a white supremacist (Cliff Robertson), who is intent on turning the area into a training ground for taking over the country.
Along with my beloved Heat (1986), Malone was part of Burt Reynolds’ attempted comeback following his declining popularity in the mid-eighties.
A series of flops - combined with rumours he had AIDS - had put the star on the back-foot, and films like Heat and Malone were part of Reynolds’ strategy to both show his range, and re-assert his credentials as an action star.
The latter rumours followed the making of City Heat, during which Reynolds suffered a jaw injury which forced him onto a liquid diet. His subsequent weight loss - coming around the same time as Rock Hudson’s death from the disease - would follow him for years. In a contemporaneous interview with the LA Times from 1987, Reynolds was still trying to dispel the rumours (to his credit, he also is at pains to not disparage LGBTQ+ people).
In contrast to the more humorous and self-effacing persona he presented in previous films, Malone is his take on a serious action hero.
From the opening scenes, as David Newman’ elegiac score plays under the credits, Malone plays like Reynolds’ take on the ageing star reckoning with his past ala Eastwood in Unforgiven or, more recently, Hugh Jackman in Logan.
Like Reynolds, Malone is physically impressive - but he is mortal. He is also racked with regret over his past.
While the film seems set on contending with Reynolds’ reduced stardom, the film does not really work as a meta-commentary: we get a car chase where Malone gratefully gives up the wheel, and that is about it.
The actor himself pointed out the similarities with the western, Shane: a lone gunslinger coming into a community, facing off against a local threat, and moving on. Aside from the character’s background and the contemporary setting, there is not much more to it.
Shorn of his familiar wit and self-awareness, Reynolds’ muted, taciturn performance is still effective - particularly when he explodes into action - but it feels like he is working with a hand tied behind his back, except for one moment:
Reynolds spends the middle act recovering from an injury. This recovery ends when he makes love to Thompson, and he offers a wry, ribald quip that is completely at odds with the character - but totally in keeping with the fun-loving, arched eyebrow of Reynolds in his heyday.
The supporting cast are a mixed bag.
Lauren Hutton - playing fellow secret agent Thompson - is an effective partner for Reynolds. Hutton has a natural poise and intelligence that complements Reynolds. She does not get nearly enough to do - she comes to Malone’s aid, and becomes his love interest, but her role devolves into that of a sacrificial lamb.
Malone’s antagonist, Delaney, is a bit of missed opportunity. Cliff Robertson offsets the characters’ ideology by playing him with calm self-assurance. It is an interesting choice - but it renders him a bit dull. While he orders Malone’s death, the character has no real big moments to cement him as a threat. While he is not small Robertson lacks the fire and presence to feel like a match for Reynolds.
As an action film, Malone is relatively low-key. It aims for the spareness of a western, before turning up the pyrotechnics for the climax, as Reynolds storms the villains’ compound.
The one time the film has some juice is also the one time Robertson truly clicks as the villain.
Surrounded by computers and screens showing neo-Nazi hideouts around the country, Delaney tries to appeal to Malone as a veteran, and as the embodiment of the kind of masculine individualism the white supremacist worships. It is a quiet, unsettling scene, made even more effective by Robertson’s avuncular demeanour. Even with his plans in ruins, Delaney is deluded enough to think he can convert the damaged killer to his side.
It is too little, too late.
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