That was an excellent one.

I don't have all the words right now but this film is a work of art.

Absolutely the worst movie.

As somebody who had not heard any of this before, it became a curious phenomenon to sit and watch a film and slowly have the realities begin to click into place.

Footloose Bronson hooks up with gambler Coburn in a series of no-holds-barred slug fests in 1933 New Orleans.Richly colorful movie showing seamiest side of the seamy Depression. Street fighter Chaney (Bronson) speaks with fists instead of his tongue (hope they weren't paying him by the word). My gosh, Bronson's 50-something, but's got the torso of a 20-year old. He's convincing as heck as a slugger with a pile-driver punch. Meanwhile, Coburn plays his fast-talking promoter Speed, and he better be speedy to stay one step of the guys he owes money to. I love the staging in this film. Talk about junkyard dogs, that's where the fights appear staged, in one junkyard after another. It's also a blood lust fight crowd at its noisiest. Throughout, Chaney remains as enigmatic as a Chinese box puzzle. He comes from nowhere and seems to care less where he's going. You never know what he's thinking, what with that deadpan expression and wordless mouth. He's his own man to say the least-- a free spirit, as Lucy (Ireland) ruefully finds out. At least we know he likes stray cats since he's pretty much one himself. Coburn's got all the lines, and suits the slick-talking gambler to the proverbial 'T'. But surprise, surprise, for me—Strother Martin (Poe) has a sympathetic role for a change as a trustworthy associate. No doubt about it, this is a man's picture and about the worst 'date movie' I can think of, unless she likes bare male torsos. But it's also one heckuva gritty Bronson flick.

In this excellent period piece, a clean shaven Charles Bronson has one of his best ever big screen roles as Chaney, a hard luck loner in Depression era America. He arrives in New Orleans by train and discovers that he can make money using his fists, by becoming a bare knuckled street fighter. He hooks up with a slick gambler named Speed (James Coburn), who arranges his bouts. Things go well for them for a while until Speeds' irresponsible way with money begins causing problems. Speeds' mobster associates lean on him to repay his debts, and a prominent, well dressed gambler named Gandil (Michael McGuire) agrees to foot the bill IF Chaney will take on Street (Nick Dimitri), a fighter from Chicago.This marked the directing debut for a young Walter Hill, who'd achieved some success in Hollywood as a screenwriter, writing or co-writing things such as "Hickey & Boggs", "The Getaway", and "The MacKintosh Man". Here Hill brings his talent for creating striking male milieus to the forefront, telling a story of struggling to survive during a bleak chapter in American history. With the assistance of a solid crew of professionals including editor Roger Spottiswoode, art director Trevor Williams, and director of photography Philip H. Lathrop, he captures on screen an incredible evocation of the N.O. of the 1930s. The music by Barry De Vorzon is wonderful. The fights are well choreographed and always feel very convincing; still, this isn't as violent as some reviews may lead you to believe.The acting is solid all the way down the line, with an assortment of familiar faces to back up the stars. Bronson was still a fine physical specimen in his 50s and delivers a typically low key performance; Coburn is great fun as the outgoing handler. Bronson once again acts opposite his real life spouse Jill Ireland, who plays a feisty love interest. Strother Martin is a delight as always as Coburns' cheery associate. Also appearing are Margaret Blye as Coburns' perky fiancée, Felice Orlandi and Bruce Glover as mobsters, Edward Walsh as the sleazy Pettibon, Robert Tessier as smiling fighter Jim Henry, Frank McRae as a heavy, and, in his film debut, an uncredited Brion James.This is compelling all the way and well worth a viewing for fans of action and drama, with a kick ass final fight between Chaney and Street that works even without music to accompany it. Recommended.Eight out of 10.

It's the Great Depression in New Orleans. Bronson arrives on a freight train with six dollars. Coburn discovers that Bronson has a punch that would penetrate 20 millimeters of steel and they make a lot of cash together participating in pick up fights, sustained only by bets.The fights are brutal. Two shirtless men batter each other until one is insensible. Anything goes in these mano a mano and pata a pata. It's all bare-knuckled fighting, as in a grade-school playground. You can kick an opponent, pull his hair, strangle him, break his back, knee him in the jewels, or ram his head against the wall.Strother Martin is always there as the dope-addicted ex medical student to treat your wounds and bandage you up. But this is Hollywood, not New Orleans in 1935. There's hardly a drop of blood. These guys are real savages, remorseless, and the worst Bronson winds up with is a rather becoming bruise on his temple -- and that only after the climactic fight against the best bare-knuckle fighter in the country, imported, like the gunslinger in "Shane", from elsewhere.If the settings weren't drab enough, with their greenish walls and peeling chintz wallpaper, and the overhead fan that doesn't work, and the spare and spindly furniture, a very portrait of the abandoned railway car I live in, the fights themselves are depressing. As a nation we seem to be turning into a society of cage fighters and air guitar contests. That's for the American man. The American woman can go on afternoon television and sob out her story of sexual abuse as a child. And of course we can all sit back and enjoy American Idol. Man, does our system of values need the services of the failed medical student, Strother Martin. Does he know anything about treating blood poisoning? It isn't the exercise of physical skill that's repulsive. I envy athletes and dancers for being able to do with their bodies things that I could never command mine to do. Jill Ireland, Bronson's whorish sometimes girl friend in the movie, was trained as a ballerina and I admire her for it.It's the objective of the writers and producers that are so repugnant. They're playing to an audience that simply wants to see two behemoths batter each other to the ground. That's the ENTERTAINMENT. It's as if some group of MBAs at Columbia Pictures got together and had a bright idea. Instead of having a story of good and evil with a sprinkling of fist fights, why not make the whole movie about fist fights? The fights themselves follow all the conventions. Bronson's opponents rarely connect. Their round house punches miss by a mile with a great whoosh, while Bronson almost always connects with a sound of braking pottery.If it weren't for that pandering, the movie might be pretty good. Bronson hardly has any lines. He's silent and wears an inscrutable smile. But some of the secondary characters are interesting. Coburn's facial features have never been more mobile. Jill Ireland is appealingly winsome. And there aren't any real villains. The organization that provides Bronson with opponents are men of their word, in a way that Coburn, for instance, isn't. (He recklessly gambles away the debt he owes them.) The period detail has a few anachronisms but is convincing enough, as is the wardrobe. And the ending isn't what the formula demands. Ireland finds another man, more dependable than Bronson, and hooks up with him. And Bronson, who drifted into town in a box car, drifts away into the night.

Both Charles Bronson and Clint Eastwood played during the Seventies bare knuckle prize fighters. But Charles Bronson in Hard Times was infinitely more serious about it whereas Clint's two films Every Which Way But Loose and Any Which Way You Can were played strictly for laughs.Hard Times is set during the Great Depression and in those desperate economic straights people would do just about anything for a little cash. Bronson who grew up in that period actually did do some legitimate prize fighting at one time which is why he looks so natural in the role. With the possible exception of Robert Mitchum, I don't know any other major male film star who came from such a hardscrabble background as Charles Bronson. James Coburn is his co-star and the two veterans from The Magnificent Seven and The Great Escape play beautifully off against each other. Coburn is a gambler/manager. Coburn likes to live life to the fullest and on the edge which exasperates his girl friend Margaret Blye. It's Bronson who approaches Coburn, but it's Coburn with his reckless ways that nearly lands both of them in the toilet with other gamblers and loan sharks. Chief villain of them is Michael McGuire playing Chick Gandil.An interesting choice of name for a villain because Chick Gandil was the ringleader of the infamous Black Sox who threw the 1919 World Series. I did a little research on Gandil and there was no mention of him being involved in the illegal bare knuckle prize fight game. Wikipedia does mention that Gandil did do some boxing before deciding on baseball as a career. At the time of these bare knuckle fights, the real Chick Gandil was involved in some outlaw semi-pro baseball leagues along with other banned players. And he was from California not New Orleans where this film is set. McGuire however is every inch the rogue Gandil was alleged to be.Strother Martin gives a good account of himself as a would be doctor who got thrown out of medical school for opium addiction. As it was called back then, Martin was a hop head. He plays the corner man for Bronson.Hard Times is a nice and occasionally brutal look at how some had to make a living during the Great Depression. A really worthwhile film capturing the era and some of the men who survived it.