Reel Change

April 10, 1996

The Awful Truth

The new courtroom drama, Primal Fear, is one of those frustrating movies that spin on a single twist, a moment so shocking it changes the meaning of every scene before it. There's an unwritten statute of limitations on a twist which requires everyone, whether critic or unruly teenager, not to give everything away after they've seen it. That statute has expired on The Crying Game, so now we can speak openly about the surprising and wonderful way in which Fergus reacts to Dil after he finds out she is a he. But our lips are still sealed on The Usual Suspects, so we can't reveal that Keyser Soze is really...

Primal Fear treads a thin line, manipulating events carefully to bring about its climactic moment while trying to make larger statements about our legal system. Martin Vail (Richard Gere), the slick attorney at its center, wavers accordingly. In a move largely motivated by vanity, he decides to take on the defense of Aaron Stampler (Edward Norton), an alter boy accused of murdering an archbishop in grisly fashion. Martin's case is thin: Aaron was found running from the police covered with blood.

The only thing Aaron has going for him is his face and it's quite an asset-- gentle, naive, untainted. In that face and his weak, stammering voice, Martin senses that a jury will have trouble delivering a guilty plea ("There, that's it, that's the look," he says with excitement.). It's on this hook where the movie hangs its central moral issue: With clever, charismatic lawyers running the show, how can the court determine the difference between the appearance of truth and the actual truth? As played by charm machine Richard Gere, Martin has less interest in finding out what really happened than in getting his client off. Presentation takes precedence over justice.

In the way in which it meanders through a series of red herrings and other subplots-- including an unfortunate one where Martin's former lover is assigned as prosecutor, like a bitter 90s take on Adam's Rib-- the film is trumped up like a sleazy TV pilot, with all the gratuitous cursing and sex tapes left untrimmed by censors. The first-time director, Gregory Hoblit, cut his teeth on television with credits that include the "L.A. Law" pilot and several episodes of "NYPD Blue." His frequent crosscutting from the middle of one scene to the next builds tension cheaply, as if to allow for commercial breaks, and it keeps potentially gripping scenarios from developing.

A perfect example of this are the scenes involving a psychiatrist (well-played by Frances McDormand) who is assigned by Martin to study Aaron, to get a read on his mental state. As the session wears on and the shy defendant reveals his troubled past, a genuine trust and warmth grows between them, only to be cruelly demolished by a single moment. Every bit of suspense on the screen comes out of Aaron's mouth and gifted newcomer Edward Norton has a marvelously expressive face. If the session were edited into a single scene, the dramatic tension would have been overwhelming.

Instead, Primal Fear is ruled by the cliches of the standard courtroom potboiler, grinding its way towards a payoff that negates everything preceding it. The implications of the ending I won't reveal, so as not to spoil anything and face the wrath of a Fritz Lang mob scene. But once the statute of limitations runs out on the twist, its fashionably cynical statements about our legal system will be uncovered for us to attack. Or more likely, we'll forget about it altogether.

Footlight, Footnote

Paul Mazursky's Faithful announces the beginning of Spring Cleaning in Hollywood, a three-month sweep between the Oscars and Memorial Day where every mistake made during the year is quietly shuffled into theatres without fanfare. A major studio invests in dozens of projects annually, so it's only natural that a few lemons emerge at the end of the line. For audiences unfortunate enough to get reeled into buying, the only thing the season renews is bitterness.

The talent behind Faithful promises more than it delivers. Mazursky has slipped badly before (Scenes From A Mall and The Pickle leap to mind), but his deft comic touch was key to Down and Out In Beverly Hills and the brilliant Enemies, A Love Story. Best Supporting Actor nominee Chazz Palmentari, who wrote the autobiographical A Bronx Tale, penned the script based on his off-Broadway play. Robert De Niro, a friend of both Mazursky and Palmentari, produced the film version. And at the center of it all is Cher, who makes her first appearance since dropping out of acting six years ago.

In a half-hearted turn, Cher stars as Margaret, a rich woman caught in a lifeless marriage, is assaulted and tied up by Tony (Palmentari), a hit man hired by her husband Jack (Ryan O'Neal) to kill her on their 20th Anniversary. Of course, Tony finds it harder than usual to get the job done, as he and Margaret, bound by common neuroses, begin to take to each other. Once Jack arrives to find his wife getting around like a living person, the macabre comedy is set in motion.

The most distracting element of Faithful is just how little is done cinematically to make it more than just a filmed play. Almost all of the action takes place in a barely appointed house and the camera keeps its distance, rarely moving and never closing in on the action. Occasionally, Mazursky cuts away to himself as Tony's psychologist or to a literal visualization of Tony's stories, but he never lends the comic situations any energy. As for the dramatic, Palmentari's dimestore imitation of David Mamet works like a sieve, keeping the rawness of Mamet's dialogue while losing the tension and meaning behind it. In this tepid effort, the floorboards just creak away.

On Video: The Dating Game

Despite winning critical acclaim and the Grand Jury Prize at the 1993 Sundance Film Festival, Tom Noonan's sharply observed What Happened Was... took three years to make its way to video. Perhaps the premise, a tumultuous first date shot in one setting in real time, raised a practical question in the minds of its promoters: Who would ever want to relive such an experience, especially in the guise of popular entertainment?

Nevertheless, the particular dynamic of a first date makes for great drama. Noonan captures its generalities-- the awkward pauses, the unavoidable risk of offending the other person, the danger of accommodating the other person and revealing things about yourself when you don't necessarily wish to do either-- while still creating two very specific people. The entire film takes place in one apartment, as Jackie (Karen Sillas) enjoys a homecourt advantage over Michael (Noonan), both of whom are underlings at a large law firm in the city.

The easy, relaxed association they had at work disappears under the pressure and they have trouble getting used to each other. Michael is cool and intellectual, with a sense of humor so dry a joke could easily be mistaked for an insult; Jackie is open and considerate to where Michael underestimates her, only to be thrown by her jabbing intelligence and resiliency. The awkward and painful moments are expected and palpable, but the poignancy of this relationship is what ultimately gives the film its emotional pull. The common bond between the characters is that they're essentially two very lonely people desperately reaching out to each other across an impossible divide.

Unlike Faithful, What Happened Was... uses subtle cinematics to keep it from looking like a filmed one-act. As the night wears on and things become more and more intimate, the camera moves in tighter, catching the facial expressions of the characters as their formal facade is stripped away. In two tricky roles, Sillas and Noonan do a terrific job of adjusting their performances to match the progression of the script. They cut straight to the bone and the movie follows in turn.

-- Scott Tobias