Mountain Highness

By RICHARD SCHICKEL

SHOOT TO KILL

Maybe it is only Sidney Poitier's decade-long absence from the screen that has made one's heart grow fonder. Even in his 60s, Poitier registers a cool, commanding presence. His arrogant authority is undiminished, even enhanced, by being more loosely coiled now. If he still seethes and snaps at the world's stupidity, there are new notes of mellowness in his playing. And why not? The repressions inherent in his old celebrity as the movies' only black leading man have been lifted by the success of Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy, actors who have not had to be on their best behavior every minute.

Color is only a minor issue here. Urbanity is the real problem. For Poitier's Warren Stantin is a big-city FBI agent forced to pursue a psychopathic killer into a mountain wilderness, discovering in the process that street smarts and trail wisdom are antithetical forms of knowledge. Will he and his guide, Jonathan Knox (Tom Berenger), bicker about their divergent life-styles for most of the picture? Oh, go ahead, take a wild guess. Will they finally learn mutual respect? Close your eyes and try again.

Director Roger Spottiswoode's film is flawed mainly by its sense of fair play. The bumpkin must be maneuvered onto the city slicker's turf in order to reverse the student-teacher relationship, and the air is simply not as fresh on this low, familiar movie ground. Even so, one remains grateful for the mountain high. And for Kirstie Alley, as Jonathan's lover, a woman worth battling bears and blizzards to rescue. And especially for the renewed pleasure of Sidney Poitier's company.