After all, you don't have a Clint Eastwood thriller unless our hero's working against the system, unless proving his consequence is at stake. Due, perhaps, to renewed national distrust of government post-Oliver Stone's JFK, 1993's In the Line of Fire plays like a refashioned High Noon more than any Eastwood vehicle outside his spaghetti westerns. Unfortunately or ironically, despite a redemptive storyline with a reassuring finish, the film gives some wrong ammunition to conspiracy theorists: a superimposed Clint mingles with Kennedy in archival footage, and the digital blend of past and present is so convincing that we're left feeling paranoid and exploited by it.

While germane to the plot, these special effects border on sacrilege, and they are, in the end, window-dressing for a film that's already overflowing with the same, such as the ubiquitous White House and Lincoln Memorial exteriors. Nevertheless, rich in suspense and iconography, In the Line of Fire is a cracking good time at the cinema (or in front of the tube). It's formulaic in all the right places as well as charmingly forthright about aging in a manner that we hadn't seen in Hollywood schlock since 1982's Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (a sequel that grows in stature with each passing day).

Thirty years ago, Frank failed to protect John F. Kennedy from that fatal bullet, and the incident has come back to haunt him in the form of an enigmatic assassin (Oscar-nominated John Malkovich) who's planning to kill the current (fictitious) president. Nicknamed Booth (after John Wilkes...), he's chosen Frank as his opponent for myriad reasons: the Dealey Plaza infamy; the otherwise exemplary track record; the fact that Frank is not a spring chicken anymore--he can no longer nap without co-workers mistaking him for dead. Booth, we learn, is handicapped by an awful temper; we get the impression he has sat out a few terms in search of the yan to his yin.

Directed by Wolfgang Petersen, In the Line of Fire is covered in the melancholy confetti of Eastwood-helmed Unforgiven (1992), the Academy Award victor in which Clint's character, wearing chaps for the last time, also encounters his zombified past. Unforgiven is better than In the Line of Fire, but then, Eastwood's westerns generally best his Dirty Harry pictures; together, Unforgiven and In the Line of Fire are graceful bows to the two halves of Eastwood's dual-stardom, though the latter's missteps (including the notion that Malkovich, with his unmistakable eyes and curly grin, is a master of disguise) are more prevalent.

Columbia Tri-Star has at last given In the Line of Fire the Special Edition treatment on DVD. The only recycled element is the previous, bare-bones disc's transfer, and that's hardly a deficit: the masterfully compressed 2.35:1, 16x9-enhanced video is high in shadow detail and low in grain; the somewhat fuzzy opening shots are misleading. The Dolby Digital 5.1 audio isn't quite so dynamite, as it's lacking in substantive bass. Split-surround activity, on the other hand, is driving--I wish, in a geeky way, that editor Anne V. Coates had lingered on the motorcade, for it sounds terrific in its brief appearance.

J.M. Kenny of Two Dog produced this SE and prompts a ready and willing Petersen during a feature-length commentary. Kenny, obviously nervous, completed interviews with other In the Line of Fire participants before recording their dialogue, so he sometimes gets Petersen's take on what was said in them, but little else distinguishes this track. The deleted scenes portion of the disc (five in all) is more enlightening as it highlights Petersen's gift for losing redundancies; however, and I don't believe I'm the first critic to point this out, a Fidel Castro joke was unceremoniously removed.

Speaking of redundant, "The Ultimate Sacrifice: In the Line of Fire," a new, 22-minute documentary that extensively explores the Secret Service's role off-camera, cancels out the puff piece "Behind the Scenes with the Secret Service" hosted by technical advisor Bob Snow and produced for Showtime back in '93. "Catching the Counterfeiters" discusses the alterations that were made to U.S. currency in 1996, the most drastic efforts yet to stop the spread of funny money; I don't grasp how spoiling the secret markings on a $100 bill will discourage counterfeiters, but it's a great featurette all the same. "How'd They Do That?", a quick look at the compositing, is equally absorbing. And scary. Ten TV spots, In the Line of Fire's theatrical teaser, and trailers for Petersen's Das Boot and Air Force One, not to mention Columbia's traditional fold-out insert, additionally help this collectible package to score a direct hit.-Bill Chambers