Milk Train

By JAY COCKS

SILVER STREAK

Directed by ARTHUR HILLER Screenplay by COLIN HIGGINS

George Caldwell is not much of a hero, but once aboard the Silver Streak, a sleek train bound from Los Angeles to Chicago, he finds heroism thrust upon him. George (Gene Wilder) is the kind of guy who has his hands full even when he's not carrying anything, so he is hardly equal to the challenge. Say this for him though: he is a dogged fellow, and his blithering persistence manages to keep the villains tellingly off balance.

When George first got on the train, he was looking forward only to a little R. and R. Rest turns out to be scarce, although George soon encounters recreation in the person of one Hilly Burns (Jill Clayburgh). She introduces herself in the dining car by saying, "I'm a secretary. I give great phone." This strikes George as the height of erotic sophistication. He orders a bottle of wine to demonstrate, "I give great French." Hilly smiles knowingly. These two soul mates settle down to giggling over their bubbly and bunking down together. As George prepares to enjoy himself, he happens to glance out the window and, instead of moonlight, sees a corpse, falling from the top of the train.

This moment, which should have been startling and funny, is actually thoroughly predictable and calculated. Watching Silver Streak is like leaning out a moving train window and looking ahead: you can see everything coming a mile off. The prospect is not entirely pleasant either. Besides the dialogue, which sounds like counsel from "The Playboy Adviser," the twists of plot have been extensively mapped by previous train thrillers, from The Lady Vanishes to Gary Grant's interlude aboard the Twentieth Century Limited in North by Northwest. Director Arthur Hiller (Love Story) and Scenarist Colin Higgins (Harold and Maude) are simply following along the tracks.

No one believes George when he tells about the dead man, but, of course, there really was one. He had been dispatched by a whole carload of villains led by a well-tailored richie called Devereau (Patrick McGoohan), who is embroiled in an unlikely scheme to protect his art forgeries. Suspense movies are not supposed to make perfect sense, but it is always nice when they come close. Hiller and Higgins toy with sorting out the plot only for the sake of appearances and waste a good deal of energy reaching for laughs. The result is compounded confusion, relieved only by one novel touch. This must be the first train movie in which the hero keeps getting thrown off the train. It is a nice gag, which has the added advantage of introducing Richard Pryor. He appears as a thief, with the unlikely name of Grover Muldoon, who helps the long-suffering George on the train and off again a couple of times. What furtive sprightliness Silver Streak manages to work up is attributable mostly to Pryor, sly-eyed and fast-mouthed, an unbeatable antic spirit.

Jay Cocks

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