Bullitt ★★★★

About as dreary (tonally and visually) as Friends of Eddie Coyle, with even the showstopping action scenes staged to wax and wane with how worn-out the characters get. It can sag in the areas around its central setpiece, but eventually it wears you down by the force of its dry procedural and Steve McQueen's inexplicably-expressive stone face. A muted British sensibility hangs over this tale of malaise and old-money rot at the edges of countercultural San Francisco: this is Petulia for boys.

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