“There’s a difference, you know, between not liking one’s brother and not caring when some dumb Irish flatfoot drops him out of a window.”
Spoken by predictably ace Irish resident Jeremy Irons in the third (and second best) film in the blockbuster Die Hard franchise, no singular character has ever defined a career, genre or profession quite as well as said Irish flatfoot, John McClane.
At the time of the first Die Hard movie, Bruce Willis was a popular TV actor, but far from a movie star. A cheeky everyman, all be it one with a glint in his eye, Die Hard director John McTiernan saw something in him that would ultimately be the catalyst for countless knock-offs and parodies.
Those who were introduced to NYPD’s finest John McClane through the fifth Die Hard flick, A Good Day to Die Hard know nothing of the absolute awesomeness the character possesses. Mainly ’cause that film was utter shite. The first three flicks showed a rogue, rugged, generally pissed off cop who played by his own rules but never sought out the extreme situations he often found himself in. When he did, though, he handled them like a man should – by shooting bad guys and cursing a lot.
There was something about that time in the ’80s and action flicks where the leading men were proper men’s men. Guys you could have a beer with but wouldn’t mess with; flawed characters who were as quick with their mouths and they were with their guns. There was something pure about that time, something that was almost inexplicably fun.
The first Die Hard is one of the most seminal films ever made and has been ripped off numerous times since – worse of all by the awful aforementioned last sequel in the franchise. But McClane remains cool, that shit-eating grin plastered across his face, his receeding hairline now a shaved head making him look ridiculously cool for his age and underlining the “don’t mess with me” attitude.
James Bond has the suits, but John McClane has the attitude.
Yippee ki yay motherf**ker indeed…
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