Three Days of the Condor

Robert Redford’s Joe Turner moves through Three Days of the Condor with the wary polish of a man trying not to look like a target. On a cold Manhattan morning, he threads the city on a Velosolex, all herringbone tweed and calm concentration, heading for the American Literary Historical Society. The office work gives way to panic almost at once, and Turner’s look follows suit: a black-and-steel DOXA on the wrist, a brown Vasque pair for the street, then a dark navy naval pea coat once he has turned Kathy Hale’s apartment into a temporary refuge. It is a film of clean lines, brisk surfaces and nerves kept just under the skin.