Saturday 17 February 2024

Article – A Little Ramble about George Armitage's Cult Killers – Miami Blues



I like directors when they’re allowed to be weird little guys. When their odd visions are allowed to flourish on the screen. I rewatched George Armitage’s Grosse Point Blank (1997) for a podcast and took so much more from it than past viewings. This is most likely down to age. Its effective pop needle drops, offbeat charm, and crafted cynicism towards encroaching adulthood in the ever-ironic 90s certainly made a mark this time. I do feel the film would be a tougher sell to the IP junky executives of today.

Grosse Point Blank was a minor hit for director George Armitage, who struck out the last time he tried to put together an off-kilter tale about a violent sociopath. Miami Blues, released in 1990, is a bold and bizarre crime comedy that throws Alec Baldwin, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Fred Ward into a blender before adding tonal shifts to the mix and switching everything up to full blitz.

Fredrick (Baldwin) is a violent ex-con who flies to Miami after being released from prison in California. After unintentionally killing a Hari Krishna member, he checks into a hotel and arranges an encounter with a call girl. Said sex worker is Susie Waggoner (Leigh), whose sweetness is only overshadowed by her naivety. What starts off as a typical sexual transaction swiftly becomes an unlikely coupling. Susie’s dreams of living happily ever after soon cloud over Fredrick’s sociopathic tendencies. Meanwhile, a dim-witted cop named Hoke Moseley (Ward) finds his investigation of the murdered Krishna disciple leads towards the unconventional couple. Chaos soon ensues when Fred manages to steal Moseley’s badge and gun.

Grosse Point Blank would be a hard sell today. I believe Miami Blues would be borderline impossible now. This is a world of violent, insensitive characters set against a Miami backdrop far from what you’d see in a more populist production. Frederick’s cynicism and selfishness make Susie’s blind interest in him feel questionable. While Moseley is unheroic and callous and seemingly over the hill. All three characters are unmistakably unlikable.

But Miami Blues does a remarkable job of mining the humanism out of these people that would have been lost in a different movie. Then again, when Jonathan Demme, a fellow Corman colleague, shows up producer credit, it suddenly makes a lot of sense. Halfway through the film, Fredrick and Susie move to a house in the suburbs. For Fredrick, it's a good cover for him to hide out. As Susie wanders from the front garden into the house, the camera slowly captures the mundane environment. For Susie, the two sharing the home stirs an assorted range of emotions. An idyllic, yet idealistic view of suburban life.

In a film that indulges in images and situations of mirroring, facades and imitation, moments of introspection suddenly jump out at Fredrick unexpectedly. By stealing Moseley’s credentials, Fredrick has no trouble committing more robberies. However, the theft also allows him to play the hero. Something that he gains a taste for. His selfishness plays a huge part in his enjoyment. But a modicum of curiosity also sets in. Blink and you possibly miss Fredrick considering this the successful conclusion he cynically jokes to Susie over.

Miami Blues becomes a strangely engaging artefact to observe. The humour is dark in a way that many modern films would try to avoid. Fredrick causing the death of a Hari Krisha by merely breaking his hand is the sort of absurd, cartoony gag that some people may feel bad laughing at. And that’s understandable. The same goes for when Fredrick witnesses a restaurant robbery and shoots the thief first before asking him to stop. A macabre goofiness runs through the film that may only appeal to a niche crowd. Yet Miami Blues dovetails with its Armitage’s own Gross Point Blank by humanising its strange characters in unexpected ways. Like Martin Blank in Grosse Point Blank, Fredrick is an antisocial square who doesn’t fit into society's round hole. His pessimistic viewpoint bubbles to the surface more than once in exchanges with Susie. In one scene, he cruelly mocks Susie’s desire to open a franchise restaurant. He has little understanding of her small, mundane dreams. Yet by exclaiming that they should “skip straight to the happily ever after” it suggests that he sees a future with the two of them together. Most likely a criminal one. However, in the short timeframe of knowing each other, Fred really seems to dig all the meals Susie cooks for him. Maybe he could tune into the frequency of domestic life. This aspect serves to be part of the core of Gross Point Blank’s appeal. Something Armitage enjoys. Mining humour out of at the start and end of the 90s.

Miami Blues is worth digging into if only to be reminded of a time when American genre films were happy to be so off-centre. Armitage refined his concept later in the 90s. Ensuring John Cusack strolled the echelon of cult classic cool. But it’s fascinating to see him show his workings here. Miami’s Blue’s pastel-toned world is dark and strange. It’s a little bit weird. But hopefully, viewers will take a look back and enjoy when filmmakers were allowed to indulge in their odd little visions.

Monday 29 January 2024

Article: The Desire and the Danger - A First Watch of Looking for Mr Goodbar

When I decided to write this, the film people of the internet had rolled into day three of complaining about Sight and Sound’s 100 Greatest Movie List. Instead of participating, I decided to get blown away by Diane Keaton in Looking for Mr Goodbar. A film that’s still M.I.A in terms of physical release. Not due to the subject matter, which is tough, but due to music distribution rights. The soundtrack features disco hits from the likes of Donna Summer and Thelma Houston. The upbeat tracks date the film historically, while the lyrics also foreshadow its troubling ending. Songs like Don’t Leave Me This Way flip from being well-known floor fillers into something deeply chilling. Looking for Mr Goodbar is not an easy watch. Not in the slightest. Yet the themes raised still hold a strong relevance, while the provocative nature of the film makes it difficult to forget.

Based on a bestselling book of the same name, Goodbar is a fictional account of a real-life tragedy of Roseann Quinn, A well-liked teacher who had led a double life in her spare time. Richard Brook's matter-of-fact feature is unlike modern true-crime entries. With so many current examples enjoying placing fetishist attention placed on the murderers of senseless violence, however, one could wonder if the film's availability on streaming has been able to grab the attention of true crime junkies who know of the original case but are new to the film.

In Looking for Mr Goodbar, Diane Keaton plays Thresa, a trainee teacher whose home life is suffocating by her domineering polish-catholic parents. She studies to be a teacher while her hot mess of a sister has escaped the family home and has delved into the dual pleasures of drugs and polygamy. Theresa, at first, finds herself sexually involved with her college professor. However, the relationship is cut short before her graduation. Thresa soon obtains a job as a teacher for deaf children and proves herself to be a thoughtful and nurturing guide for her students. Her work life is a marked difference from her spare time, however, as she finds herself frequenting dive bars, engaging in one-night stands and experimenting with drugs. She soon finds herself at the hands of manipulating and self-centred men. Soon, her nightlife slowly seeps into her day job. A feeling of risk begins to stem from her precarious behaviour. Tragedy strikes when Teresa while reconsidering her personal life, has a chance encounter that changes her fate for the worse.

Looking for Mr Goodbar has no surprising plot. Theresa's story may have viewers entering the film with an understanding of the tragic crime and controversial source novel. Despite this knowledge, Looking for Mr Goodbar remains a startling picture. Even though the film is over 40 years old, the film still holds a potent relevancy as the harrowing narrative will feel relatable to many women. Although the story sets itself against the backdrop of the women's revolution of the 70s, there's a feeling the modern world has moved as much as expected. While parts of the urban scene may have faded, the misogyny found within Goodbar feels no different from today. The opening photo montage, littered with glassy-eyed men ogling young women in bars, only needs an outfit change and a gloss of paint to feel pertinent to where we are now. Something about the aged, unchanging grimness and the sense of foreboding helps Looking for Mr Goodbar remain shocking.

Goodbar’s lack of substantial physical release gives the film an added mystique. Its subject matter and lack of typical availability only compound its notoriety. Critics who have sought the movie out remain just as divisive as the likes of Vincent Canby were back in the 70s. Reviews have been quick to claim the film muddles its execution. Claire Davidson is cold towards the film. In a piece focusing on the film's soundtrack for Little White Lies, she dismisses Goodbar as redundant. Despite praising the film, Jim Owen of We Are Cult questions the struggle for Goodbar to define itself. The film's release in 1977 has the powerful lead performance by Diane Keaton overshadowed by her more affectionate display in Annie Hall. It is a curious displacement, when in contrast to the sexual allegations that dogged Hall's director Woody Allen in his later years. A strange, tangential connection of abuse lies between the two films. Along with the limited availability of the film and the critical discourse, this mixture of elements almost keeps the tenacious display of Keaton overlooked.

One thing that does not get overlooked in Looking for Mr Goodbar is the stacked before-they-were-famous cast. The film is bursting with burgeoning talent from all corners. As previously mentioned, Diane Keaton is completely arresting as Theresa. She flitters easily between sweet and sensual in a display that is intelligent, sexual, and yet without judgment throughout the narrative. Meanwhile, the supporting cast is a heady brew of then up-and-coming performers. Richard Gere appears as the finger-drumming narcissist Tony. While his appearances are brief, he hums with dangerous sexual energy when on screen. Gere delivers a similar vibrancy in American Gigolo (1980) and Breathless (1983). And it's upsetting that a generation of filmgoers may only know him as the corporate silver fox who chased Julia Roberts around in Pretty Woman (1990), if at all. William Atherton, known more for his smug, cinema bastard roles in Ghostbusters (1984) and Die Hard (1988), finds realms of darkness as James, a Welfare Caseworker. A hapless Irish American man who makes nice with Theresa's Polish Catholic parents but soon becomes unhinged as his traditional desires infringe on her sexual freedom. LeVar Burton shows up as the tough older brother of one of the pupils Theresa teaches. His stoic, no-nonsense demeanour is light years from his role as Geordi in Star Trek. Tom Berenger appears late on as the homophobic final partner of Theresa. He is equally as unbalanced as those who came before him while still presenting a different sexual danger to Richard Gere’s Tony. 

An element of the film’s potency is that despite its cast of soon-to-be well-knowns when it stays focused on Theresa rather than the many men, the film shines. Many modern true crime stories have keenly leaned towards the suspects and killers. With fans posting online their unwholesome desires for these unstable criminals. The likes of Dahmer - Monster: The Jeffery Dahmer Story have had its admirers frame Evan Peter’s portrayal of the serial killer as a pin-up. A persuasive takeaway from Goodbar is that it maintains the dubious men within the narrative as pathetic while trying to maintain an amount of sympathy for Theresa. She may enjoy an element of manufactured risk in her exploits, but her liberation and sexual freedom shouldn't cost her life.

It is easy to find parts of Goodbar reductive. At times, the film stumbles on the central theme that such a woman with her sexual freedom should not have her wings clipped. Richard Brook's stagey direction of the material sometimes struggles to do enough to complicate the matter for the better. A viewing of the film could have it read as a moralist tract, with the film arriving just before the even more conservative sex = death slashers of the 80s. A meandering side plot involving Theresa's sister Katherine begins to drift halfway through the movie. At first, she is more sexually adventurous, yet soon Katherine looks towards Theresa as an emotional anchor and is unaware of her sister's antics. By the time we enter the final third, Katherine’s exploits have led to abortions and quickie divorces. She’s suddenly moving towards societal norms, an obvious contrast to Theresa, who only has second thoughts about her promiscuity when tragically too late.

However, something about Looking for Mr Goodbar remains compelling. There is something so illuminating about Keaton’s performance that ensures the film, while overlong, isn’t lazy in what it’s trying to say.

One can throw criticism at the frayed edges of the film, yet this only pinpoints the great tragedy that hangs in the narrative. Looking for Mr Goodbar manages to highlight a multitude of struggles from intergenerational, racial and gender standpoints. The film sets up various conflicts in which characters within them will never gain the chance to move on or gain strength due to a fateful act which ends things. The film doesn’t pin down everything easily. Begging the question: If Goodbar had tightened its loose ends, could it be as compelling? Possibly not.

True Crime fiction often asks how we can load ourselves with the knowledge to calm our anxieties while protecting ourselves so that the same fate of victims is not shared. Looking for Mr Goodbar is startling because slight stumbles aside, there is no easy, comforting answer to Theresa's journey.  She battles her stifling family unit against a backdrop of women's liberation, defining her independence by her standards. There is a sense that Theresa would struggle to find this liberty through traditional societal norms. Theresa does not look for a man who fits the requirements of her father, but her sexual exploration, while enjoyable at times, does not fulfil her either. If she were to follow her sister down the well-trodden path, this also betray her newfound freedom. A streak of self-destruction lies in Theresa's behaviour, but her decisions are not what set about her demise. It is the tragic swinging pendulum of fate. Theresa's fierce independence makes her a character to root for. It also makes her unknowable. And the chilling final moments, utilising a strobe effect, are disorientating. Leaving us in the knowledge that despite being a rock for her sister, championing the young, disadvantaged inner-city children she teaches, or her fight for her sexual freedom, we will never know what she was striving for and that her ending is even more wrongfully unjust.

Looking for Mr Goodbar’s poignancy still hits hard because society doesn’t feel like it’s moved on from its talking points, despite Looking for Mr Goodbar approaching 45 years old. The disco-glazed city may not appear as dangerous as they do in this film. The dive bars that populate Goodbar would be hard to find now. Yet the fragile men who inhabit the dark corners still move among us. The type of man who can only exhibit control over independent, young women in aggressive, manipulative, or cowardly ways. Be it a gutless teacher who carries on an affair to feed his desires, a condescending potential suitor with a dated, traditional vision of relationships, or even a homophobic murderer who takes misinterpretation as a mocking dig at his own sexually. You can find these characters easily in movies today. While certain films have attempted to capture the anger and sadness within Looking for Mr Goodbar, they don’t hold a similar impact. The non-judgemental viewpoint sometimes exhibited by the lead character almost feels alien in the realm of girlboss representation that exists now. Whether Looking for Mr Goodbar will ever gain a solid physical re-issue in the UK or America, now that streaming dominates, remains to be seen. But while it finds itself on streaming channels with no sign of disappearing currently, that alone sends the message that it deserves to be discovered by a new audience and evaluated.


Looking for Mr Goodbar is currently on Paramount Plus and Amazon Prime at the time of writing.

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Wednesday 3 January 2024

Article: Ugly Enlightenment - A Quick Look Back at Happiness

January is often the month of reinvention. A month for folk to assess their unpleasant habits. With many looking towards ways of revitalising themselves for the future ahead of them. Be it career, relationships or health, January is the time for people to search introspectively about their past and present choices before looking forward to a new enlightened path of self-improvement. 

Todd Solondz is the kind of guy who scoffs at self-improvement.   

The shocking thing about Solondz’s 1998 feature Happiness is how unsettling it still is to this day. Watching the film in the era of social media only seems to highlight how much Solondz gets away with. Please note I am not mentioning too much of what happens in the film. You must see it to believe it. The film’s ironic and cynical jabs at suburbia could draw a concentrated amount of outrage. To those whom some would consider “over-sensitive.” In his four-star review of the film, Roger Ebert notes that it is “not a film for most people.” He hits the nail squarely on the head. 

Solondz’s dark satire is a medley of interlocking stories involving three sisters and the immediate connections surrounding them. The film’s painful cold open is a superb litmus test for first-time viewers. The overly sensitive Joy (Jane Adams) decides to break things off with Andy (Jon Lovitz) while on a date with him to avoid complicating things. The exchange that occurs is what the younger generations would now call cringe and suggests why ghosting is now so popular among the single. If a viewer can stand to watch this conversation without wincing, then the viewer may be in good stead for the next two hours.   

Happiness is uncompromising indie cinema that is tremendously comfortable when the viewer is uneasy. Revelling in hostility like a pig in shit Happiness is a grimly comic look at suburbia that landed a year before American Beauty (1999) but holds a cuttingness that lingers past the latter film’s pomposity. Solondz mines empathy out of the repulsive, finding an affinity for those who embrace the appalling. The women are shallow, while the men are pathetic. And this is before you realise that Happiness runs the gauntlet of the dark and upsetting. From obscene phone calls to full-blown paedophilia, the film challenges the viewer with the ability to dig out twigs of compassion from the unspeakable.   

What makes Solondz’s movie so compelling is how it states that even the perverse may be seeking contentment. He finds the darkest humour in the absurdities and constrictions which inhabit his misanthropic characters. Rewatching Happiness was invigorating. Particularly in our current climate of self-described wellness gurus and influencers shilling false promises and dubious misinformation via their social media feeds and channels. So much time they spend dropping life lessons as if they have found the key to enlightenment. One wonders what a few of the most obnoxious types would make of a film like this. Genuine hostility? Maybe. And that is what makes Happiness funny.   

 

 

  

 


Thursday 5 October 2023

Review: The Exorcist: Believer

Year: 2023

Director: David Gordon Green

Screenplay:  David Gordon Green, Peter Sattler

Starring: Leslie Odom Jr., Ann Dowd, Jennifer Nettles, Norbert Leo Butz, Lidya Jewett, and Olivia Marcum, Ellen Burstyn

Synopsis is here:


Halfway through The Exorcist: Believer, Chris McNeil (Burstyn), the mother whose 12-year-old girl Regan fell victim to demonic possession, claims that she was never allowed into the room during her daughter's possession due to the “damn patriarchy”. In the screening that I was in, the line gained an audible “right on” cheer. In wrestling, such a moment could be considered a “cheap pop”.  It is a tawdry way to incite a reaction from a crowd. The vulgarity becomes evident later in the film when a grim incident befouls Chris, a mother who had suffered so much in the original film is dismissively wasted in this new legacy sequel 50 years on. The Exorcist: Believer doesn’t give a toss about feminism. It barely cares about the women in its narrative. But it knows that simply referring is enough.

There isn't much more to say about William Friedkin’s 1973 seminal adaptation of William Peter Blatty’s novel The Exorcist that hasn’t already been said. Its reputation proceeds it. A film that now constantly tops the best horror ever lists. Its infamy entails a troubled production, rating controversies and initial mixed reactions from critics. 50 years on, the aura surrounding the film has never quelled. It remains a fascinating film which despite its intentions, has allowed the contents of the production to be argued and debated for years. Its success also allowed the studios to greenlight a multitude of sequels and prequels to mixed reactions.

The Exorcist: Believer has been delivered to audiences by David Gordon Green. A director whose filmography has a whiplash effect if you read it too fast. When he first appeared on the scene, Green was touted as the new Terrance Malick. His early films were small-town indie darlings, well-loved by the critical faculty. 2008 marked the release of the stoner comedy Pineapple Express and Green’s “loosely goosy” era with the director’s changing to television sitcoms such as the remarkable Eastbound and Down (2009) to the risibly dull Your Highness (2011). After a mix match of comedy dramas, Green found himself injecting new life into the Halloween series, creating a new trilogy which followed directly on from the 1978 classic. Despite the response for each entry falling on a sliding scale, the trilogy moved the mythology forward politically. Commentating on the festering nature of evil. The move from slasher to demonic procession feels less of a surprise now than a stoned James Franco.

The same ambition that took many by surprise in Green’s Halloween trilogy could have given The Exorcist: Believer a desperately needed shot in the arm. However, like many other entries to the franchise that proceed before it, Believer fails to grasp what made the original movie so startling 50 years ago.

The biggest gripe with Believer lies with its reliance on pandering to its inbuilt audience. Believer is totally in love with referring to the film which came before it. Visual references to Friedkin’s film litter the screen. It is a film which uses constant callbacks in a way that wants to show how much the filmmakers have liberated from the original film. Although it never really considers that the viewer could be watching that instead. In fairness Green and cinematographer Micheal Simmons do a handsome job visually, giving the film a rich and textured film from a tonal point of view. Yet the problem lies in the fact that often, there seems to be no constructive reason for its visual homages. The film opens with the familiar moment of two dogs fighting, a clear nod to the moment when Father Merrin spots two angry canines duelling in the Iraqi desert. There is no real reason to rehash this moment in Believer, other than to say: “We’ve rehashed this visual moment for The Exorcist: Believer. Originally the moment provided meaning. An amount of dread and tension felt from a priest knowing soon he would tangle with an old foe once more. Believer isn’t interested in that. It suffers from the same IP flu that infects many franchised-based films today. It wants you to tilt your head and say, “I know that reference”. But it’s not bothered in locating meaning.

Because of elements like this, it becomes quick to realise that Believer isn’t interested in anything it touches upon. Sticking close to the original film's M.O. save for cluttering scenes with needless characters, making the story about two possessed girls and giving the film a slight racial bent, Believer annoyingly suggests kernels of a more potent story but is too scared to leap. Its main thread, of a single Black father who must reclaim his faith if he is to save his child, is woefully underrepresented. The screenplay lacks the weight to match Leslie Odel Jr.’s bold performance as the unfortunate father. Believer suggests racial tension but smooths things over as quickly as it started. One plot point has a character confront the fact that he had to make a life-or-death choice between two members of his immediate family. Said choice is never truly explored in any meaningful way, as it would rather waste time having Ellen Burstyn vaguely talking about spirituality. Burstyn who cannily took the role of Chris again to get an actors scholarship program off the ground, notably rejected taking up the role again until this point. It’s easy to see why she had no interest. Burstyn is only here as a reminder of what’s been before. But at least hopefully her program will allow us to enjoy more actors like her in the future.

Even without all the legacy pandering, what we get is a rather dull possession horror which does little to scare and unsettle. It relies way too much on tropes we’ve not only seen from the first film but in various possession films since. It humourlessly goes through all the motions with little understanding of what made the original film so disturbing. Blatty’s source novel, as well as Friedkin’s film, manages to attach the weight of faith upon its despairing characters. It’s frightening because you care. It enjoys being about the eternal battle between good and evil. The Exorcist: Believer doesn’t even have the strength to take on The Pope’s Exorcist, also released this year. It hasn’t got time to care. It’s more interested in being yet another reference movie. A constant reminder you could be watching something else instead.   


Friday 2 December 2022

Article: Making Promisies - Looking Back at The Pledge


While film Twitter indulged itself in yet another madding round of Marvel vs Scorsese discourse, I needed something to watch. I found myself settling on Sean Penn’s The Pledge. A detective thriller based on Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s 1958 novella of the same name.

In reading reviews of the film, I found opinions of some of my usual go-to writers veered wildly. Roger Ebert raved about the film. Reviewing it twice and placing it on his list of great movies. Mary Ann Johnston however despised the film. Disliking its ugliness and absurd climax. I had The Pledge on my watch list for the longest time. Put off by Penn’s frustrating 2007 feature Into the Wild. A film I’ve never returned to due to the lead character’s stubbornness. Something that pairs nicely with this film.  

On the Eve of his retirement, Detective Jerry Black (Jack Nicholson) finds himself caught up in a child murder case. Jerry makes a solemn promise to the victim’s mother (Patricia Clarkson) that he intends to find the killer. However, soon after the promise is made, the police apprehend an intellectually disabled native American (Benicio Del Toro) and consider the case closed after a botched detainment. Jerry isn’t so sure. After leaving the force, he decides to embark on his private investigation of the case, based on little more than his promise and a hunch. Very soon Jerry is triangulating the area of the crime with other cold cases. He’s buying gas stations which he mans, as he believes the killer may frequent there. Jerry also becomes acquainted with a single mother (Robin Wright) whose child would be the perfect next victim for the killer. Quickly they move in with Jerry and a mutual affection grows between the three. But it becomes hard to tell if he’s using the girl as bait. And what of the friendly god-fearing bachelor who befriends the girl? What is his motivation for all this?


The Pledge is very much a Sean Penn film. It is less a film of excess as it is a film of a muchness. At times the film wants you to see that it’s directed. With a capital, D. Be its indulgence in a multitude of visual tics to having known actors swinging for the cages despite only being in one scene. It’s a film with personality. And that personality is that of Sean Penn. He may not appear in any shot of the film, but each frame feels very much like the man making it. Much like the performances of Penn in his pomp, The Pledge wants you to know of its importance.

That’s not a bad thing. Despite a sense of indulgence, The Pledge is an absorbing quasi-procedural. One that lingers on like a bad stain. Perhaps this is because Penn has chosen a story created to purposely frustrate. Sneering in the face of the kind of exceptionalism that is often found in such crime dramas. Jerry is dogmatic in his obsession, and usually, we find this to be a good trait in our cop protagonists.  But much like the novella, the film is based on, the film undermines much of what we expect in detective fiction. That brilliant “cop logic” found so often within crime thrillers is greatly flawed. Obsession can be defeated. Often by chance.

The Pledge almost feels like a precursor to Bong Joon-Ho’s Memories of Murder (2003) and David Fincher’s Zodiac (2007). A crime thriller that debates that maybe such crimes aren’t sufficiently solved by a certain logic. That the puzzle may not fit together despite holding the right number of pieces. Investors of the film got nervous after another film they distributed (Battlefield Earth) sank like a stone at the box office. Because of this Penn was rushed to complete the film. Tom Noonan claims that there were still scenes featuring himself which fully rounded his character. And yet allows Penn to indulge in distracting edits and insert shots. But it also helps show up the flawed interior of its main character. Jerry’s intention to catch the killer is absurd. His reasoning is faulty. Yet it’s easy to be charmed into his search for justice. It’s often why such movies are watched.  

And there is a strong wish for deliverance here. The crime is brutal. Its grimness is on full display. The investigation into the murder is shambolic. Much like Memories of Murder, the chaos and contamination are deeply frustrating.  Nicholson’s subdued yet dominating performance as Jerry is a winning one. A man sees this one last job as a chance to preserve his sense of manhood and relevance. But the film also lulls and distracts. Disarming both Jerry and the audience. Spending ample time wrapped up in tiny-town America in such a way that it helps champion the madness of Jerry’s obsession.

It's a cheat to say that The Pledge is about mood over logic. Such a statement screams cop-out. Yet Penn’s film plays with the irrationality of it all. Mary Ann Johnson considered the film thoughtless. I feel the film knows what it’s doing. Consider the star-studded cast. Big players give gravitas to one-scene roles. Pushing past the craziness of it all. Micky Rourke steals a scene as a distraught father. This is one of his best performances. He’s barely on screen for 2 minutes. Helen Mirren appears as some sort of shrink at one point. It’s never fully explained who she is and why Jerry goes to see her. Yet the casting of such a commanding actor forcibly glosses over the fact. It’s easy to go with it. The same can be said for a small, despicable scene in which Jerry speaks to a local deputy (Costas Mandylor) about evidence over an assumed closed case. Mandylor is so brash and slimy that it’s easy to ignore the surprising judgement call he makes.

It doesn’t all work. Benicio Del Toro would probably not be given such a role as a mentally challenged Native American. It’s a role in which he puts his whole self into. But also reveals why Penn’s performance in I Am Sam (2001) is also so cringe-worthy. The additional bigoty that takes place within Del Toro's interrogation scene doesn’t help matters. Now 20 years on, there would probably be at least an actual Native American in such a role. Not that it would help the discomfort of the scene. And yet, it’s not as if we haven’t seen such ugliness in other crime thrillers. Again, this seemingly fuels aspects of exceptionalism and masculinity within the main protagonist. Playing on the idea that Jerry knows best. And that tragic circumstances would not have occurred if he was still allowed to lead.

But is that wholly true? Moments of The Pledge suggest that Jerry is already somewhat checked out. Lost to his promise to avenge a tragic case. From incredible deduction skills to possibly using those who are closest to him as bait. What makes The Pledge fascinating is how Penn draws out the despair. Playing down Nicholson’s usual charisma to give a grim poker face which still tells us too much. This is a man who should fold his hands. The film decides against the easy route of gun fights and car chases. Rooting with this broken man’s blinded obsession and what he may do. With things being pushed to the brink. Of course, this makes the film's final moments even more haunting. The Pledge finishes on a note that gives no comfort or answers. Just the grim hand of chance at play. It’s a disorientating finish. One that as stated previously is rightly absurd. But it’s the right finish for this movie. Because life is absurd. And we perhaps should not make such bold promises when fate decides all.


The Pledge is currently on Netflix at the time of writing.

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