learned from a young girl to live again, (presumably) is delivered into the arms of his
pregnant new love. Instead of being called to revenge by, say, a ghost, he is called by
the spirit of the lost girl, who, in effect, drives him, during his exile, again fully to become
a man. Revenger is redeemed. In the novel, when word leaks out to the popular press
of what Creasy is doing and why, and of Mafiosi dropping like flies, civilians caught up
and enthused by his courage sport stickers in their car windows: “GO—CREASY!”
(334).
The first attempt to move this plot to screen was made in 1987. Creasy becomes
an ex-CIA agent, played by Scott Glenn. The director was originally to have been thennewcomer Tony Scott (who directed the 2004 version), but the studio backed off (see
Laura). As a result, the Glenn film is delivered to French director Élie Chouraqui, whose
version, set in Italy, generally is dismissed by critics as visually interesting but difficult to
understand. The narration is delivered by Glenn, as Creasy, speaking, oddly enough, in
retrospect, from a body bag. Editing is attacked by critics as creating a film altogether
too clever (Klady) and whose montage seems “arbitrary” in its connections, making
passages “incomprehensible” (Ryan). For Desmond Ryan of The Philadelphia Inquirer,
the film seems suspended between urges to present “existential meditation and
conventional vengeance drama.” Caryn James of The New York Times dismisses the
pose as silly, the film confused and “about to slip into unconsciousness.” Highlights for
critics seem to be Glenn’s brooding presence as a guidepost, Danny Aielo’s portrait of a
whinging hood, and Joe Pesci’s donning the Guido role—a performance capped with
his accompanying himself on guitar through a frenzied rendition of Chuck Berry’s
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