Very best movie i ever watch

Slow pace in the most part of the movie.

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

The movie's neither hopeful in contrived ways, nor hopeless in different contrived ways. Somehow it manages to be wonderful

After his wife is kidnapped from their Paris hotel room soon after checking in, confused, distraught American doctor (Harrison Ford) finds himself plunged into a complex web involving Arab terrorists. Rather mild Hitchcockian suspense-thriller from director Roman Polanski, who also co-wrote the screenplay with Gerard Brach. Polanski sets up the pieces to this chess game awkwardly, with opening moments that don't convince (Ford and spouse Betty Buckley act more like brother and sister than a married couple). The pacing does pick up from there, despite the fact that Ford's character is seldom likable and is mainly just a plot device (the worried husband). Newcomer Emmanuelle Seigner (later Mrs. Polanksi) is tantalizing as a young woman who becomes involved, and her scenes with Ford give the picture a sexy shot in the arm. ** from ****

Frantic is a vastly underrated film directed by the talented Roman Polanksi. I think this film is underrated because most people expect this film to be a thriller or an action film. This movie in a way is a thriller film but it has the aura of a Hitchcock film. I think anyone who watches this movie with a clear mind will see genius filmmaking.This film is about a husband and a wife who are both doctors. After they arrive in Paris and suffer through a mix-up of luggage, the wife gets kidnapped. It's up to the husband to do what he can to get her back safe in his hands.The only mainstream actor here that everyone knows is Harrison Ford. Ford is really good and his demeanor is perfect for this movie. The other actors were okay but nothing really special.Overall, this is a tense thriller with some very good filmmaking put into it. This film is not Roman Polanski's best, but it's still quite good. There are a few slow moments, but nothing a ordinary moviegoer won't handle. I rate this film 8/10.

When the Walker's first went to Paris as a couple very much in love and co-figuring on that same wavelength, it was in June of 1968 - a whole month or so after the May problems of that same year which beguiled said world renowned city and country and thus saw them avoid all the helter skelter nonsense and nuisance which would have no doubt blighted their stay there. That was then, this is now; and where a honeymoon was once the purpose for travelling to the French Capital wherein they managed to sidestep all the ugliness, this fresh visit in the latter half of the 80's will see them put through a wringer in which confronting incident; issue and a whole heap of bother must unfold. The film, one of those which can be 'pitched' in a sentence and is relatively uncomplicated to follow, might have gone one of two ways and it is to its director's great credit that Frantic is the devilish; involving and erstwhile drama that goes down the correct route that it does.There is a gnawing sensation at the back of some part of me saying that had something with the credentials which Frantic possesses been made in today's climate, it would not carry with it both the subtleties and nuances the director here applies to what is essentially a generic premise. The director is a certain Roman Polanski, a man whose films have often revolved around lone protagonists caught in webs of paranoia and disbelief as they uncover sordid truths not too far from their own abodes. We recall Jack Nicholson and Mia Farrow's characters in Chinatown and Rosemary's Baby, respectively, undergoing Hellish investigative procedures in trying to deduce what the bigger picture is as the terrible truth looms large and the protagonists just try to get on with life. For a more recent example, see 2010's The Ghost. Frantic slots nicely into the Polanski canon of films feeding off this overall framework of deception; dishonesty and a fair amount of seediness at play in what was initially a fairly pleasant set up.The film begins with a windshield set shot of cars on a motorway speeding past and away from us as the gloomy skyline of Paris very gradually approaches us such is the direction we're headed and the speed we're travelling at. That sense of an all-encompassing locale getting ever-closer twinned with things charging by and escaping us prominent. Therein what transpires to be a taxi sit the Walker's, Harrison Ford's Richard and Betty Buckley's Sondra; an American couple a long way from home in that they're San Franciscans on a holiday to the place they, as established, once spent their honeymoon decades ago. Her head on his shoulder, inferring close ties, and the establishment that they've been driving since dawn in tow, the taxi suffers a puncture and Richard is plunged into a troublesome situation requiring good communicative skills in French as well as a fair degree of calm as this out of the ordinary happening occurs. It is established Sondra is the French speaker amongst the pair of them, and Richard appears vulnerable without her expertise when attempting to communicate himself. Things on this basic level in this unfortunate situation don't go as swimmingly as they might have done, making for uncomfortable viewing later on when both of these things will be more greatly required once certain stakes are raised.Arriving at the more centralised Parisian hotel, the Walkers are tired and the arrival is a confusing; busy procession of dialogue Richard doesn't understand and phone-calls involving those back home which are ultimately unnecessary ingredients for worry. We note the iconographic Eiffel Tower peeking out from behind certain buildings from the ground level looking upwards as their car pulls up – the film eventually breaking out into a bit of a squalor-set trawl through streets; avenues and the urban undergrowth Richard discovers Paris exudes when Sondra disappears from the suite whilst Richard showers and she is nowhere that the relatively bemused hotel staff can see.Thus begins the body of the film in its depiction of Ford's descent out and into the Parisian jungle to find her, something which begins with the biggest question more broadly linked to "how" she was taken, although mutates once we're past that stage into something much more interesting to do with "why" she was. Thrown into the mix is Emmanuelle Seigner's Parisian local Michelle, a hearty and sprightly young woman who is often mixed up with the wrong people but is here dragged deeper into a mire of equally sordid business by Richard when he uncovers her whereabouts and figures she'll have a strong say in whether Sondra is at all found. As a combination, Michelle needs Richard more-so for the brief financial support he offers and he for her based on the fact she is the lone lead – they do not necessarily see eye to eye in as much Seigner's character is slender with he broader and gradually more hard bodied; her dress sense radiant and his limited to greyed coats and such. The film bounces each of them off one another as foils nicely, but its crowning glory is the film's resisting to fall into the trap of living up to its title like it would do nowadays; "Frantic" being its name but calm; collected and slow-burning its nature. True, there is international espionage and shoot outs but these things feel undercut; understated, arriving when they have to and never doing enough to drag the piece away from grounded foundations. At a time when EuropaCorp are producing what they're producing, it's pleasant to uncover films such as Frantic which are well made; well acted and unravelled in a tense, adult fashion.

Frantic. It's an odd name, because this late 80s European thriller is anything but. Since the days of Master of Suspense™ Hitchcock, writers and directors have been looking at new ways of doing it. The approach of Roman Polanski and his co-writer Gerard Brach takes on a languid, brooding pace, as oppose to the breakneck action and suspenseful pacing typical to the genre.Brach and Polanski have always typically written movies that just about conform to usual narrative and genre conventions, but filled with a kind of bleak fatalism that seems counter even to darkness of film noir and its descendents. In his travels the hero of Frantic has encounters that are depressing in their familiarity. Unhelpful authorities are of course a staple of any kind of DIY crime-solving thriller, but what is so chilling here is not just the indifference of the authorities, but the believable nature of their indifference. And this is very typical of Frantic; it doesn't often step outside of plausibility for the sake of excitement. In your average thriller, when the Liberty figurine falls from the roof, it would have been picked up by a Mossad agent (or someone) before Harrison Ford and Emmanuelle Seigner could recover it, and a chase would have ensued. Here it is simply an annoying fumble that emphasises the amateurish nature of the lead characters.Given that then, how does Frantic manage to thrill and engross its audience? Quite simply, with the way it is shot. Polasnki unsettles his audiences with a camera that often shuffles around at a pace at-odds with what is happening on screen. When Ford runs into his old friends at the airport, they are full of bubbly bustle, but the camera creeps around, most unnervingly. The few action scenes tend to be played out with fewer cuts then would be expected, giving them an excruciating real-time feel. There's always a strong sense of helplessness in Polanski's images. The last glimpse we have of Ford's wife before she is kidnapped is from inside a shower, through a narrow doorway – and it is she who exits the shot, not the camera that leaves her. There are a lot of set-ups like this throughout the movie. They look so confining they give us a palpable urge to step out of the space, but the camera confounds us by staying put. The frustrating wrongness of Polanski's shots really helps to involve us in the emotions of the story.Frantic is not without its flaws. Harrison Ford is far from his best here, although he's not really given room to act well by the script in any case, except in the scene where he phones his children, in which he is adequate. The story is packed with a lot of rather obvious symbolism (the little Statue of Liberty is hardly a MacGuffin in this respect!). And yet, in the grander scheme of the movie, these are minor issues. There is ultimately a surprising amount of beauty and humanity in Frantic - the aching Ennio Morricone score, the sudden revelation of anti-war themes in the final act. It somehow makes all the bleakness and languor worthwhile.