From the moment we see a paramedic moaning that someone’s shut the door of the ambulance, it becomes clear that Bullitt is a movie about banality. Director Peter Yates has decided to make a thriller that’s such a police procedural, it emphasises what’s going on in Frank Bullitt’s life above the actual plot.
Look at the things Yates shows us. We see Bullitt eating a sandwich, reverse parking his cool car, getting a newspaper, buying some stuff from the shop. He takes Cathy on a date where loud flute-y jazz music is playing. He has to get her to give him a lift when all the cars are gone from the police car pool.
This pervades all parts of the films. The most important part of the lot, the revelation that Chalmers sent Bullitt to guard the wrong man, that the witness isn’t Johnny Ross, is transmitted so subtly, so off handedly, it takes repeated viewings to even notice that this is the key point of the entire story. Yates spends more time and focus on the shot of all the cops looking endlessly at the telecopier. More emphasis is placed on an incredibly long depiction of the plane coming in to park.
And there’s a point, the climax of the movie takes place in an airport; the headquarters of banality. When Ross sees Bullitt and flees, most movies would use that as the moment to hit the music. Nah, fuck that. We’re just seeing parts of Bullitt’s life and this is an annoyance. This explains why the car chase, the best ever made, is without music, just the roar of the Ford Mustang. Of course there isn’t any fucking music, we’re in Bullitt’s head, of course he’s not thinking about music.
In the end Yates and Bullitt are the same. They’ll do things their way.
“We must all compromise” says Chalmers. “Bullshit” replies Bullitt / Yates.
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