At first impression, The French Connection plays like a standard cop show from the era. There is nothing particularly unusual about its plot or characters, but what makes this movie a classic and an Oscar-winner is the way this story is told—with its documentary-style, no-frills direction by William Friedkin, its seemingly improvised screenplay by Ernest Tidyman, its voyeuristic, handheld, grainy cinematography, and its filthy, authentic, New York street settings.

The French Connection is based on a nonfiction book by Robin Moore and takes its name from the most common way heroin was smuggled into this country beginning in the 1930s and continuing until 1971—an underground trafficking network that progressed from Turkey to France to the U.S. and finally Canada.

In the movie, the backstories for the characters, the crime scheme, and undercover cops in general are never discussed or explained, but they are depicted in great detail. This overall lack of established information can make the plot seem confusing or slight (save for the thrilling chases), but the more audiences know in advance, the better experience they’ll have watching it. For example, Popeye Doyle (Gene Hackman in an Oscar-winning performance), who is dressed like a street-corner Santa for his first scene, switches to singing “Jingle Bells” at the moment he spots a drug deal going down. This signals his partner Buddy Russo (Oscar-nominee Roy Scheider) to move in and make the arrest. When the two cops are grilling a perpetrator using the typical good-cop/bad-cop approach, Popeye throws in a nonsensical question (“Do you pick your feet in Poughkeepsie?”), which is a proven technique meant to throw a suspect off in order to elicit an answer to the more direct and sane question coming from the other cop. None of this is explained. Later, we watch the same duo place a straw hat in the back window of their moving sedan, letting any area policemen know they are undercover officers “on duty” and in pursuit. Because we aren’t ever told these things but see them happening, it creates questions and more of a fly-on-the-wall experience as the story unfolds. Often the camera is across the street, capturing the action in partial view, with objects occupying the foreground to make us peer around them, either craning our necks or leaning forward to see what’s going on. Director Friedkin’s refreshing approach feels like he’s made a documentary of spontaneous moments, instead of a well-crafted and expertly scripted crime thriller.

Roy Scheider and Gene Hackman.

The percussive and dissonant Jazz score by Don Ellis (a former member of the Glenn Miller Orchestra) propels the agitated mood, and Friedkin proves he is a master of knowing when not to use music in a scene as much as when to use it. As a result, the score is sparse but highly effective. In addition, the popular girl-group The Three Degrees appears on camera in an early bar scene, singing a great Jimmy Webb tune “Everybody Gets to Go to the Moon.” Their dynamic performance is intercut with the arrival of Sal Boca, an immediate suspect when Popeye observes him and his entourage in the corner booth. “That table is wrong,” says Popeye. In addition to music, the rogue cinematography of Owen Roizman contributes greatly to the film’s success. He isn’t opposed to using anything with wheels on it as a dolly—and occasionally switches to handheld movement in the middle of a shot. This was four years before the Steadicam was introduced, but it wouldn’t have helped the atmosphere to incorporate smoother photography. In fact, the opposite is likely true.

Four charismatic performances dominate this story: Hackman and Scheider as the cops, along with Fernando Rey as French drug lord Alain Charnier and Tony Lo Bianco as American mobster Sal Boca. Bill Hickman plays a professional adversary for Popeye as federal agent Bill Mulderig. Hickman was an accomplished stunt driver as well as an actor, and he doubles for Hackman in much of the high-speed chase footage.

This brings us to the iconic chase, which is what most people remember about the film. It’s plenty thrilling today even without CGI. The whole sequence starts out on foot when a sniper who is staked out in a building attempts to gun down Popeye while he walks through a park below. Popeye chases him inside the building and out onto an elevated train where the sniper escapes. Popeye then commandeers a civilian’s car and races through the streets below to intercept the train at its next stop. Much of this high-speed footage was obtained without proper permits, and several of the near misses as well as the crash at an intersection were unplanned. The sniper then hijacks the train and kills a transit worker who tries to stop him while the conductor falls unconscious, held at gunpoint, seemingly from a heart attack. Popeye continues his pursuit on the ground, nearly missing a woman with a baby carriage (which was rehearsed). Ultimately, the runaway train crashes into the back of another at the following stop, and the injured sniper escapes on foot. Popeye spots him on a cross bridge and shoots him down at the top of the stairs. This entire sequence was, and for many still is, considered the best of its kind, certainly for that era. It feels authentic and spontaneous, and it’s damn exciting to watch.

The classic chase scene from “The French Connection.”

This movie has become part of our pop culture in so many ways. In fact, it inspired countless films and TV shows throughout the following decade, as well as the fast-food chain Popeye’s, which takes its name from the main character. The French Connection is a perfect example of how the right director, cast, crew, location, music, and screenplay can elevate a fairly standard crime-drama into something extraordinary and indelible. Budget clearly isn’t everything when you have talent like this assembled. Each time I watch it, I get pulled in, admiring all the ingredients as they come together on screen.

The French Connection