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Reviews:
Breakthroughs
All Around: L.A. Confidential
by
Christian De Matteo
Super
When first seeing L.A. Confidential in the theaters, I left disappointed.
The reason for this is the ancient
moviegoer/slash novel-reader mistake:
Comparing the author’s writing to
the director’s vision.
I was at that time reading a great
deal of James Ellroy including “American
Tabloid,” and “The Black Dahlia,” both
of which were astounding works.
I had not read L.A.
Confidential intentionally, thinking
that way I would be able to enjoy the film. Yet, Ellroy’s powerful writing attacked anyway, and I left
the Curtis Hanson (Wonder
Boys) directed film disappointed and
haven’t seen it since…
…till my last night of vacation in Canada.
My lovely and wonderful friend
Michelle, after insisting I watch The
Adventures of Pricilla, Queen of the Desert
(which I did
get a kick out of), suggested we put in
another great Guy Pearce (Memento)
role. I hadn’t seen it in some time, so I acquiesced.
Hell, I needed a review for the site
anyway, right?
Well, untainted by expectation, remembering little of
the film, and already in pleasant movie
viewing mood, I watched.
And was amazed. As the credits rolled, only one thorn from my original
criticism still remained in my side, but it
was a small one, a forgivable one.
The film was released after Kevin Spacey had
officially become a household name with his The
Usual Suspects Oscar, and Confidential
showcased another one of the many sides of
Spacey we would see in the years that would
lead to American
Beauty.
Playing celebrity cop Vincenes, he is
an ultra-confident screen presence; far from
the stammering Verbal we’d loved
previously.
He showed his acting ability as we
watched him find grace and realize his
missteps.
Spacey was amazing.
Russell Crowe, relatively unknown to most people at
the time, pummeled his way out of the screen
as the good cop forced by his brute strength
into the role of bad cop, but with a
conscience just waiting to come out.
An incredible acting job, he was half
of what stole the attention from the
crowd-pleaser Spacey.
And that other half was Guy Pearce.
The third of the three main
characters, another unknown to most, he was
the immediate bad guy of the movie…if the
movie were that simple.
Instead Pearce rocks the boat with a
performance that makes you doubt every first
impression and look deeper into all the
characters.
With those three incredibly strong main players, we
get the great James Cromwell (Babe),
Kim Basinger (the only one to get an Oscar
out of this and, though very good,
undeserving of it in comparison), David
Straithorn, and Danny De Vito, perfect as
the sleaze-meister behind Hush Hush
magazine.
The result is a brilliantly strong noir worthy of the
old Bogart entries like The
Maltese Falcon.
Wonderfully complex, Hanson and
screenwriter Hegleland take Ellroy’s
massive book and compact it into a thrilling
and engaging, grit-fest that is unrelenting
in showing everything.
No one gets away with a clean soul,
but neither are any of the characters
two-dimensional.
So what was the thorn in my side?
The very, very end.
Not the excellent climax, mind you,
but the denouement.
I won’t say why, and it’s not
really a plot concern so much as a problem
with what Hollywood thinks we want.
It is, however, highly forgivable in
light of the excellent two hours I’d had
previously.
This is a powerful mystery entry that
should be a classic with acting that is
stupendous, dialogue that is perfect and a
story that binds you to the screen with its
intense study of the human condition and
some of its worst forms.
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