Inside Man (part one)

‘My name is Dalton Russell,’ says Dalton Russell (Clive Owen), a thinking man’s type of bank robber, who is sitting in the darkness, staring moodily into the camera, as he delivers this introductory monologue. ‘Pay strict attention to what I say because I choose my words carefully and I never repeat myself. I’ve told you my name. That’s the ‘who’. The ‘where’ could most readily be described as a prison cell (shot of poor old Dalton sitting reading in a cramped corner). But there’s a vast difference between being stuck in a tiny cell and being in prison (shots of Dalton lying on his front as he writes a letter or something and then doing a few press-ups - he must be really bored). The ‘what’ is easy. Recently I planned and set in motion events to execute the perfect bank robbery (I don’t think that sentence quite makes sense but we get the gist). That’s also the ‘when’. As for the ‘why’, beyond the obvious financial motivation, it’s exceedingly simple. Because I can. Which leaves us only with the ‘how’. And therein, as the Bard would tell us, lies the rub.’ Intriguing, and not a little pretentious. The credits start.

Shots of New York, specifically the ‘Manhattan Trust Bank’ and also a van, presumably heading towards it. En route the van picks up a couple of characters in painting garb. This is a Spike Lee ‘joint’ by the way. That‘s promising. I like Spike Lee.

The ‘painters’, all nattily attired in masks and shades, park up outside the bank and prepare their ‘equipment’. Inside, it’s business as usual. A father speaks to his son as they wait in the queue, people talk business across desks, and a young woman chats in obnoxiously loud fashion on her hands-free mobile (‘Yeah, we’ll get lobster. I’ll put it on Mr Ansinori’s card’). A bank official discreetly tries to get her to shut up and she agrees to play ball but then complains to her phone buddy about the situation. ‘I didn’t know I was in a library. It’s a f*****g bank.’ A succinct argument, but specious, considering no one, anywhere, in any environment you care to name, wants to hear about her plans to milk the unfortunate Mr Ansinori for an crustacean-centric slap-up dinner. While this goes on, one of the painters strolls in, gets out a spotlight and begins pointing it around. I’m not convinced this is standard practice but he carries on unchecked. A shot of the bank’s security monitors shows us that the spotlight is disabling all the CCTV cameras but, again, whoever is meant to be monitoring the er, monitors, appears to be asleep at the wheel. Dalton, for I believe it is he, continues taking out the cameras at his leisure.

Some more painters come in and secure the door behind themselves. At long last, a rat is smelt and a security guard confronts the rascals. It proves a bad move because Dalton ghosts up behind him and sticks in a gun in his back for his trouble. ‘Everybody get down on the f*****g floor! Now!’ he bellows. Chaos reigns, as women scream and the miscreants, now wielding huge rifles, lob a few smoke bombs around and yell instructions. Dalton notices an elderly chap remaining upright and marches towards him. ‘You get the same treatment as everyone else, Rabbi,’ he explains even-handedly, then pushes the religious gent to the floor. ‘Now, my friends and I are making a very large withdrawal from this bank,’ Dalton informs the expectant throng, who had previously presumed they had stumbled into a controversial piece of performance art. ‘Anybody gets in our way, gets a bullet in the brain.’

Out on the street, Sergeant Collins (Victor Colicchio) is strolling past the bank, keeping his nose clean, when a passer-by remarks: ‘Hey officer, there’s smoke coming out of there,’ and keeps on walking, arm in arm with his lady. Not much point hanging around to see if you can be of any assistance is there? Smoke comes out of banks all the time. Collins attempts to investigate but the locked door keeps him at bay until Dalton eventually opens it a tad and sticks a gun in his face. There’s a warning to snoopers everywhere. ‘I have got hostages,’ he reports. ‘You f*****g cops come near this door, I start killing people. I’m not f*****g kidding man.’ His communication skills are rudimentary but you can’t deny he gets his message across. Dalton disappears, leaving Collins to radio in the details, while shooing potential bank customers away.

‘Baby, I’m fighting for my life over here.’ In the police station, streetwise, ultra-confident detective Keith Frazier (Denzel Washington) is on the phone to his hot girlfriend Sylvia (Cassandra Freeman), also a cop. Keith explains, in unrealistic detail, (‘Do you know what kind of thin ice I’m on right now with this cheque-cashing thing? They want to lock me up.’ ‘But you didn’t take it.’ ‘Of course I didn’t take it baby. It’s just some lying drug dealer trying to save his own ass by f*****g me over.’) why they can’t get a ‘bigger place’ which somehow also pertains to her brother, ‘the only family (she’s) got’ getting nicked for stealing a car. It’s hardly the most acrimonious of disputes but peace is declared anyway and Keith promises ‘Big Willie and the twins for you when I get home.’ Very romantic. ‘I got the handcuffs,’ she purrs. ‘I got the gun,’ he croons. ‘I got a sudden urge to try and go out with a cop,’ I muse. Detective Bill ‘Mitch’ Mitchell (Chiwetel Ejiofor) has been listening in to the spicy chit-chat and doesn’t miss the opportunity to lampoon his partner’s sleazy conversational style with a brilliantly crafted one-liner: ‘Big Willie and the twins, huh?’ Or maybe not. Keith witters on about his girlfriend’s brother’s list of offences, how it’s awkward having the young brat sleeping in the next room and how ‘if we got married then things would be different’. No, I don’t see why he thinks that’s the case either. There’s no rule that says just because you’re married, you don’t have to provide shelter for a young brat, and a bigger place with a young brat residing in it, is still a place with a young brat residing in it. Anyway, he doesn’t fancy marriage, for various clichéd reasons, including the expense of the ring, even though the fact he’s been married before ‘crops’ up. ‘You give her a ring?’ ‘Yeah, but she won’t call me back.’ The witty repartee is brought to a halt by the arrival of Captain Coughlin (Peter Gerety) who brings news of the bank situ: ‘Christmas came early for you this year.’ With ‘Grossman’ on vacation, it’s up to the comedy kings to save the day - the ‘cheque-cashing thing’ notwithstanding (‘I just threw you a bone’). The boys head off, practically high-fiving each other at the news that dozens of innocent people are being menaced by gunmen. ‘This is it, baby. The show!’ Mitch enthuses. More banter as Keith puts on his hat. ‘Look out bad guys, here I come,’ he remarks. He’s not really much of a team player.

The hare is on the move! Police vehicles pull up outside the bank in their droves and their passengers swarm out, armed to the teeth. The area is taped off to exclude the public, who nosily cluster on the other side of some barriers, and a TV news crew arrives.

Elsewhere, a lackey called Katherine enters a huge office to inform ‘Mr (Arthur) Case’ (Christopher Plummer) that ‘there’s a robbery in progress at one of our branches’. He’s appropriately concerned and, after checking nobody has been hurt, asks which of their branches it is. ‘20 Exchange Place.’ He asks again, the deaf old coot. ‘20 Exchange Place’. He thanks her, slowly sits down and murmurs ‘Oh dear God’ to himself.

Batman and Robin arrive at the bank and exit their car purposefully. Collins is on hand and, having ascertained that Keith is the ‘hostage negotiator’ (‘Come on out crooks, I’ve got Big Willie and the twins waiting for you!’), he brings him up to speed. Keith tells Collins he did well and decides there’s time for some small talk. ‘You ever had a gun stuck in your face before?’ Collins has, ‘by a 12-year-old’. Keith commiserates and departs, after Collins says he’ll stick around ‘at least until we make contact’. What good is he going to be? These dilatory cops will do anything to put off doing the paperwork.

Bank interior. The hostages are herded into an area next to a huge safe. Dalton struts around aggressively, and a female co-conspirator (‘Stevie’ - Kim Director) orders the bank employees to one side, while the unfortunate customers stay where they are. Dalton wants everyone’s mobile phones and keys. His minions scurry around with sacks, which the hostages drop the goods into, but some chap hasn’t got a phone. Dalton ambles over and asks his name, which is Peter Hammond (Peter Frechette). He’s left his phone at home but Dalton can’t hide his scepticism. ‘Peter, think very carefully about how you answer the next question because if you get it wrong, your headstone will read: here lies Peter Hammond, hero, who valiantly attempted to prevent a brilliant bank robbery by trying to hide his cellular phone, but wound up getting shot in the f*****g head.’ Peter is sweating hard, but assures Dalton that his phone has indeed been left at home. Dalton starts going through the phones in the sack, fiddling around with them and then chucking them onto the floor, until he finds one which has P.Hammond on speed dial (as well as Mom, Bucky (?), Eric, Ian, Voice and Home. P.Hammond is top of the tree - I suspect an office romance is afoot). Dalton dials the number and a rap song ring tone starts to play in an office right next to where they are standing. Dalton marches in, Hammond looks justifiably terrified. Bit of bad luck that his office was right next to the ‘Trade in your mobile phone for nothing’ HQ eh what? ‘Okay, I f****d up. I’m sorry. Please,’ he begs. ‘Hey. Don’t worry about it,’ says Dalton magnanimously, handing him back his phone. However, he heads back into the office and shuts the door, and through the glass we can see him gesticulating humorously as he debates with himself how best to punish this nitwit. He settles for dragging him into the office, smacking him in the face a few times and then kicking him, which we also watch through the glass. Dalton doesn’t seem to be a massive fan of rap song ring tones. He comes back out, to be greeted by unhappy squealing. ‘Anyone else here smarter than me?’ he wonders. Most of the hostages sensibly treat it as a rhetorical question, although one woman tearfully says ‘no’, evidently being of the mind that beneath Dalton’s gruff exterior lurks a keen intellect.

For his next trick, Dalton bowls over to a guy called Vikram Walia (Waris Ahluwalia) who is holding up some keys. He takes the keys and the young lad we saw having a chin wag with his dad earlier also offers him some sort of Gameboy. Dalton lets him keep it, he has more pressing matters to deal with. ‘I need all of you to strip down to your underwear’. I like a man who will go to almost any lengths to get a few cheap thrills and also approve of the word usage. He wouldn’t like you to strip off, he doesn’t want you to strip off - he needs you to strip off. This is a twisted individual indeed. The hostages do as they are instructed, then Dalton walks down the line, pulls out three women, turns to his pals and says ‘These will do team, let’s get out of here’. No he doesn’t, he heads over to a woman at the end of the line, who has defiantly remained fully clothed. ‘Believe me. This is the only situation where I’d ask you to do this,’ he tells her. No need to be so rude about it! She’s not on board with the plan and replies that ‘(he) should be ashamed of (him)self’. Quite right. As usual, rather than debate the matter in a reasoned, adult fashion, Dalton points his gun at her face. She still refuses to disrobe. ‘What’s with you mishegoyim? Go ahead. Make my day.’ Stevie drags her away, the rest of the hostages are all given painting suits and masks to put on.

Danger mouse and Penfold enter the ‘command post’ van, from which the police are basing their operations. Captain John Darius (Willem Dafoe) is inside. Introductions dispensed with, Keith heads down memory lane. ‘You may remember, we worked that hospital thing on 93rd, during my training?’ Darius does remember. ‘Oh yeah. That was a real shame,’ he responds. Doesn’t sound like Keith’s training went altogether smoothly, though he doesn’t seem too haunted by the recollection. He asks what’s happening in the bank but Darius hasn’t got the foggiest because none of the cameras are working and, in any case, ‘the way this works, Mr Frazier, is I deal with Mr Grossman’. Keith will not be fobbed off and informs Darius that, due to Grossman’s poorly-timed holiday, ‘Detective Frazier is the big dick today, all right?’ Mitch looks on admiringly, he loves it when Keith lays the smack down to these cheeky upstarts. Darius accepts the situation and calls out for ‘Berk’ to ‘get these guys some vests’. They’re on the team! Keith lays the schedule out for Darius. Him and Mitch are ‘gonna take a walk down to the diner’ while Darius prepares ‘a detailed briefing’. That doesn’t sound like an entirely equitable distribution of the workload but a chastened Darius puts it through on the nod. ‘Good to see you, Captain,’ Keith smirks before exiting.

Outside the van, Mitch has the temerity to question Keith’s strategy. ‘Shouldn’t we be in there (the van, not the bank)’ he enquires. Keith thinks not (‘Your call, Keith’ says Mitch, quickly falling into line) and waffles on for a bit about how the proper cops think hostage negotiator types are a bunch of jokers because ‘us being here means there’s a mental side to it that they don’t get’. How such a bunch of thickoes manage to solve a single crime is a daily mystery to Keith. But wait, he’s not as self-assured as he seems. ‘I keep waiting for someone higher up on the food chain to show up and say ‘Here’s what we do’’. Mitch asks about the ‘hospital thing’. ‘Guy shot himself, (and) shot his girlfriend.’ These pesky trainee negotiators are the bane of the criminal classes everywhere! The boys head into the diner for a well-earned bite to eat, unused to all this hard work. I mean, there can’t be that many hostage situations surely, and Grossman clearly handles the bulk of them. What on earth do Poirot and Hastings do with all their time?

Inside the bank there’s a bald man sitting on a chair struggling to breathe (Herman Gluck - Gerry Vichi). ‘I’ve told you I’ve got a heart condition,’ he manages to wheeze. He is pushed onto the street by the robbers but the fact he is in a hooded all-over body suit and a mask bewilders the police, who point their guns at him and start shouting. They get the mask off and he blurts out a few nuggets of information (‘If you come near the bank he’ll throw out two dead bodies’) then asks if he’s going to be on the box. Of course you are my friend, every channel out there knows that some old fool babbling incoherently is must-see TV.

A middle-aged man sits in an interrogation room and burbles on about how he ‘thought about … not seeing my wife again’ or his kids for that matter. The lighting is different and the tenor of his chat indicates that this is some time in the future, that he got out of the bank alive, and that the Hardy Boys, who are looking on impassively, still haven’t got a clue what the hell went on.
Back to the bank. The hostages are all sitting together in various rooms, wearing their suits and masks, while the robbers perambulate around the place until they encounter a large store room. ‘Beautiful,’ murmurs Dalton, as he stares at some boxes.

We arrive at the impressive offices of sexy, smug, quasi-enigmatic Mrs Fixit Madeleine White (Jodie Foster) as she deals with a client whose ‘only intention is to spend time in your wonderful city’. He certainly won’t be having dealings with his uncle, who he hasn’t seen in nine years, according to a source of Madeleine’s. ‘You are extremely well informed,’ observes the uncle-avoider. ‘I have to be,’ Madeleine explains. Her PA comes in and announces: ‘I have a Mr Arthur Case on the phone for you,’ saying the name in a pained, over-pronounced fashion, as if he’s got Elvis Presley on the blower instead of some boring old bank bigwig. Nonetheless, she winds up her meeting quick-smart and heads to her desk, upon which is a computer, upon the screen of which appears … her PA. What a nightmare job for the lad - purely on a whim his boss can click her mouse and see what he’s getting up to, although it doesn’t look like she can see what’s on his own terminal, so presumably he can read ‘Films in full’ and she’ll think he’s busy studying statistical surveys regarding how regularly people see their uncles. They have some back and forth about whether it’s Case himself on the line or his secretary. It’s him, eventually he’s put through and Madeleine dismissively puts her computer onto screensaver mode. But the PA is left trapped in existential limbo, wondering if she’s still spying on him, while she talks to Case, of if he dare crack open his sandwiches.

Madeleine and Case talk. He wonders if they have ‘met formally’ but she doesn’t ‘believe we have’. ‘Yet you’re always turning up at my July 4th parties in Southampton,’ he points out. ‘Yes, we, er, know some of the same people,’ says Madeleine. All well and good, but if these no-doubt raucous jamborees really are hosted by Case, surely, as a guest, you at least say ‘thanks very much for having me’ at some point. The manners of the upper classes are quite reprehensible. Case is unworried about such niceties and gets to the point. ‘I have a small problem which requires someone with very special skills and complete discretion’. She’s interested and agrees to meet him outside in five.

Back to the more grimy lighting, as another, rather battered-looking, former hostage, tells the Fabulous Baker Boys what occurred in the bank. ‘They had a kind of genius plan for throwing us out of whack and depriving us of any way of controlling ourselves.’ A different ex-hostage elucidates on this: ‘All I know is that they called each other a variation of Steve. Steven, Steve-O.’ For some reason, Keith thinks this is a load of bull and demands the truth but this guy, a dark-haired man, aged 30ish, simply continues with his yarn. ‘They had AK-47s out. Four of them.’ A grinning Keith jumps all over this. ‘You know a lot about guns,’ he says, leaving out the ‘Ergo, you’re obviously a criminal mastermind. Hurry up and spill the beans, me and Mitch need to get down to the diner’ which is clearly on his mind. But the ace up his sleeve is trumped once again. ‘Everybody knows what an AK-47 is,’ says the exasperated suspect. ‘Everybody?’ asks Mitch in disbelief. ‘Anybody who’s ever watched a decent action movie would.’ And so would people who’d watched ‘Inside Man’. Ha ha!

Holmes and Watson are getting really desperate now. They’ve resorted to grilling our friend Herman Gluck. Keith decides to subtly circle his prey, hoping to relax him and trick him into a mistake by cleverly probing him about apparently unrelated matters … - ‘You ever rob a bank before?’ .. - but then remembers the diner shuts within the hour and opts for a more full-on approach. Baldy laughs this off and denies ever stealing so much as a dollar, although after Keith points at him and says ‘That one time’ about three times, he breaks down and confesses all. ‘I stole a nickel from my grandmother’s pocketbook once. She was Polish’ Good work lads! Keith radios upstairs: ‘Well boss, we’re still all at sea on the old bank robbery but you can consider the case of the missing Polish nickel firmly closed.’

Darius wants to speak with Keith. He knows where to find him! ‘Look, Detective, I didn’t mean to give you a hard time back there,’ is his opening salvo. Keith tells him not to worry. Darius relays Herman’s news, namely that, as far as Dalton and co are concerned, cops near the bank door = two dead bodies. Darius and his team have everything under control, including the phones, which have been ‘cut and diverted into M.C.C. We’re the only ones they’re gonna call.’ There’s a pause. All the bases are covered, so it seems Keith is expected to phone the robbers. The only problem is, he can’t be bothered. Darius is surprised but, to Keith, it ‘doesn’t feel right yet … I’m not gonna call him and ask what I can do for him. Let’s see what he does. Come on Mitch, back to the diner!’ Okay, he doesn’t say that last bit. ‘Your call,’ says Darius and they head into the van.

Madeleine and Case take a stroll by the river. Case has apparently told Madeleine that ‘there are family heirlooms inside (his) safety deposit box’. She rambles on about how the fact Case’s own ‘people’ aren’t handling it tells her ‘that there’s something in that box that you don’t even want your closest aides to know about’. For some reason she feels the need to point out that, if the box contains ‘the launch codes for a nuclear missile, then let’s just say we no longer have an agreement’. Case is as tired of her prattling as the rest of the us and asks if she’s finished. He assures her the contents of the box pose ‘no danger whatsoever to anyone’. Nonetheless, Madeleine can’t guarantee results because ‘there are men with guns in there’. More to and fro about this mysterious box. Case doesn’t want anybody knowing what’s inside it. ‘The contents of that box are of great value to me. So long as they remain my secret.’ If they’re exposed he’ll ‘face some difficult questions,’ so Madeleine gathers that the box is to stay ‘locked, or it disappears’. She is confident she can get the job done but Case, who is something of a sourpuss, ‘can’t help but be sceptical’. ‘Whoever gave you my number got the same deal,’ Madeleine replies. ‘Clearly, they must have been satisfied.’ She puts her sunglasses on in characteristically self-satisfied fashion. I think a ‘now look Case, I’m on the Case’ retort would have been more endearing.

Inside the bank of fun, a male robber (Steve - Carlos Andres Gomez) is moving things around in the aforementioned store room. Dalton comes in. ‘Steve?’ ‘It’s time for Steve-O’. Dalton leaves, Steve starts smacking holes in the floor.

Outside, Mitch is immensely pleased with himself because, having learnt the crooks came in disguised as painters, he has found a painter’s van! He eagerly shows Keith the fruits of his labour but his rewards are scant. Keith easily pulls off the sign on the van (‘Perfectly planned painting - we never leave until the job is done!’), and tells Mitch to have it checked for prints. He strolls off, Mitch scampering in his slipstream.

Tired of Mitch’s pathetic efforts to please, Keith decides it’s time to give the robbers a call. No luck though, Dalton sits there letting the phone ring. ‘Okay. Nothing yet,’ Keith tells the van, somewhat superfluously, considering they were all listening in on the call. Some video footage has arrived though, which Mobile Command Officer Rourke (Daryl Mitchell) plays back for the group. They watch Dalton offing the camera with his spotlight. Clueless as ever, Keith can’t work out why none of the customers are noticing this horseplay, ‘you’d think it (the spotlight)’d be pretty bright’. Rourke explains all: ‘Infrared bulb. Humans can’t see it, but a video camera will pick it up.’

Back to the interviews. Next to face Keith and Mitch’s ‘bad cop, even worse cop’ routine is Miriam, the woman who wouldn’t get her kit off, despite Dalton’s charming entreaties. She’s pretty upset and even Laurel and Hardy don’t seem to consider her a viable suspect. They cheer her up by pretending otherwise (‘Could you give us the names of the bank robbers, maybe?’ ‘Did you rob the bank?’) and everyone has a good laugh. Nice guys, great comedy duo, lousy thief-takers.

A hostage is thrust out of the bank with what looks like a suitcase around his neck. Once again, the cops surround him and start barking at him. ‘Put your hands on your head and get down on your f*****g knees’. They finally notice that his hands are tied behind his back and that he can’t speak very easily because he has a mask over his mouth. They pull it down and the hostage turns out to be Vikram. The cops wonder if the suitcase is a bomb. ‘Oh s***! A f*****g Arab!’ These cops aren’t exactly ice-cool under pressure. ‘What? No, I’m a Sikh,’ says Vikram, who assures them that he is not walking around with a bomb around his neck. He is wrestled to the ground for his trouble while two policemen bring the suitcase over to Keith and company, who look on as Vikram is led away, angrily complaining because the cops have wrenched his turban off.

In the middle of a busy open-plan office, some old cove is getting his schedule sorted out. ‘Your honour,’ says Madeleine, who has come striding in. The old cove in question is the mayor. He greets her effusively and she thanks him for seeing her at short notice. ‘I always have time to put on a tux and eat free food for a good cause,’ he says, and she requests his presence at a fundraiser for spinal cord research. However, it seems such convivial chat may have been for the benefit of passers-by because, once they are alone, the gloves come off. ‘What the f*** do you want?’ ‘A favour.’ ‘Which kind.’ ‘The last one I’ll ever ask of you.’ ‘That’s the kind I had in mind.’ Madeleine wants the mayor to take her down to the bank and get ‘whoever’s in charge to extend (her) every courtesy’. The mayor is unsure about the soundness of such a scheme and informs Madeleine she is ‘out of (her) f*****g mind’ and that it would be ‘impossible’ to accede to her request. She laughs this off and tells him to ‘call in a few markers’. ‘I may have to give out a few,’ he responds. ‘Then that’s exactly what’ll you do,’ rasps Madeleine, clearly confident of ultimate victory. The mayor gazes at her respectfully. ‘You’re a magnificent c***,’ he ludicrously remarks. ‘Thank you,’ says Madeleine and turns tail. You see, when you reach the upper climes of society, words formerly considered extremely offensive suddenly become gracious compliments. Try it next time you run into a member of the aristocracy.

A news reporter appraises her viewers of the situation, telling us nothing we don’t already know, as we watch the painters’ van get towed away. There’s plenty of work to be done but the dynamic duo are ensconced in the diner once again, and they’ve even deigned to bring Darius along. They’re trying to interview Vikram but he’s ‘not talking to anybody without a turban’. I think he wants his own turban back, rather than for the interview to be conducted by a turbaned individual. He’s ‘not an Arab, by the way, like your cops called me outside’. Darius sniffs damaging controversy and shrewdly tries to tamper it down by … speaking to Vikram as if he’s five years old: ‘I don’t think you heard that …you were probably disoriented.’ Vikram ‘heard what (he) heard’ and again calls for his turban. Mitch points out the gravity of the situation and suggests Vikram chat to them and worry about his turban later. ‘First you beat me, and now you want my help.’ ‘You need to start thinking about your co-workers (Vik worked at the bank, forgot to mention that earlier).’ And don’t forget Vikram, those Neanderthal cops are nothing to do with our heroes. ‘I could apologise on behalf of the NYPD but that was not us. We are detectives.’ Just like The Thompson Twins! Vikram condescends to answer a couple of questions, while holding some ice to his forehead, but détente does not last long. ‘I’m f*****g tired of this s***. What happened to my f****** civil rights?’ He moans about how he’s also harassed at airports, where he ‘can’t go through security without a ‘random’ selection’. Keith hunts for the bright side: ‘I bet you can get a cab, though,’ and Vikram concedes that is ‘one of the perks’.

Keith reads out the message from the robbers, which was scrawled on the object Vikram carried out. You’d think he might have glanced over this missive before going for a doughnut with Vik, but better late than never. ‘(They want) Two buses with full gas tanks. One jumbo jet with full gas tank and pilots at JFK, parked at the end of the runway.’ Keith adds, ‘they give us until nine pm to do this, then they kill one hostage every hour in front of TV cameras,’ then reads aloud again: ‘Bank is secured with Semtex, we will demonstrate if necessary.’ But Dalton’s refusal to so much as give Keith the time of day has really rubbed him up the wrong way. ‘Till I talk to them, they get nothing. For now, we wait’. But before the three amigos can scarper back to the diner, Arthur Case arrives to say howdy-do. Good old Art was wondering if he ‘might be of some assistance’. When he asks what the malefactors have demanded, Darius tells him ‘they want a jet’. ‘Oh, I see (long pause), would you like me to arrange one for you? (very long pause, as Keith, Mitch and Darius look disbelievingly at Case, who realises that’s probably not a great idea) I’m so sorry. I must have misunderstood.’ Case wants to hang around (‘those are my people in there’) but Collins arrives to turf him out. Case graciously thanks him and leaves, as Collins gives the gang an uncalled for ‘who is this geriatric buffon’ look behind his back.

A hostage pops out of the bank with a note, which Darius accepts from a cop. The note reads ‘Fifty plus hungry people need food now’ but, standing alone, he reads it aloud as ‘Fifty hungry people need food now’. Poor old Darius isn’t the brightest spark is he, having to enunciate the words when he’s reading and even then getting it wrong? Either that, or the film makers wanted us to know what was on the note without us having to bother reading it ourselves and imparted the information in spectacularly maladroit fashion. Why not have Darius glance at it, then take it to Keith, who could read it aloud for Mitch’s benefit? Anyway, there’s 30 seconds of your life you wish you could have back. Keith looks pleased by the note because …

… he’s going to bug the food! The police woman detailed to carry out this wheeze informs him ‘pizza’s the best. No sandwiches’. Mitch doesn’t see why it matters but, instead of seeking clarification from the source, he asks Keith if ‘she (is) for real’. What obnoxious behaviour. Keith asks her if she is ‘for real’. You’d think bugging the hostage-takers might have come up during his training at some point, but I expect he was getting something to eat while that lecture was on. The lady patiently explains: ‘If we send in, say, ten pizza boxes with transmitters, maybe we’ll get some conversation if we give them something to group around. Give them each a sandwich, it’s hit or miss. They can move around and I don’t have 50 transmitters.’ If I was in Dalton’s shoes, I’d specify exactly what sort of food was delivered. If it all goes wrong it could be your last opportunity to decide for yourself what you eat, so why leave it up to these jokers? Keith is holding a thin, pen-like object. ‘What’s this?’ ‘It’s a digital recorder.’ How on earth should he know? ‘James Bond s***,’ he says, impressed. In ‘Life on Mars’ the policeman goes back in time from the present day and can’t believe how backward everything is, but I think the big plot twist coming here is that Keith’s going to turn out to be a cop somehow transported forwards from the 1950s. That’s the only explanation for his sense of wonder at what is surely bog-standard police equipment. Mitch asks Keith if he will request the release of a hostage. Pizzas for hostages scandal? Keith points out that they already got one and then pays homage to ‘Mr Wendal’ by Arrested Development: ‘He gave us a hostage, we’ll give him some food.’