Gone Baby Gone

GONE BABY GONE           B            

USA  (114 mi)  2007  d:  Ben Affleck 

I always thought it was the things you don’t choose that makes you who you are. 

—Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck)

A surprisingly complex film that isn’t over when it’s over, that leaves you wondering how you got from point A to point B when so much in between seemed ridiculously contrived, almost defying belief, yet somehow in the end, there’s still plenty to like about this film, much of it from going against the grain.  First of all there’s Casey Affleck (Patrick Kenzie), absolutely nobody’s version of a hero, especially fresh off his performance where the title of the film outright calls his character a coward, THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD (2007), recalled awhile back as one of the crazy lunkheads in Gus van Sant’s GERRY (2002), who now appears as one of the strangest leading characters, as he could just as easily be anyone, the kind of guy who disappears unnoticed in a crowd.  But here he’s Patrick Kenzie, a private eye with a gun and a beautiful babe (Michelle Monaghan), a short-fused badass who stands up to punks on the street as well as thugs in all walks of life, keeping his brain on alert while the world is spinning out of control all around him.  This is as improbable as Elliot Gould playing a mumbling Philip Marlowe in a sun tinged take on Raymond Chandler’s film noir world in Robert Altman’s THE LONG GOODBYE (1973), which by the way also caught us off guard, but worked.  Second of all there’s the man behind the camera, a former tabloid king whose acting career and reputation have fizzled to record lows, as he’s become an easy target, routine fodder for jokes condemning him as a lamebrain to the second hand bin.  What’s he trying to do here, take on the persona of George Clooney as a clever mastermind behind the camera?  And third there’s Morgan Freeman, a man whose reputation is rock solid in his role as chief of police, a man’s man, a leader of men, the kind of guy you would want to have in your corner in a time of trouble, as he’s wise enough to pass for several men.  And finally there’s Amy Ryan (at the time of the release, who?), as unsympathetic a character as the screen has seen in ages, and yet it is this director who remains undaunted by her scandalous behavior, who by the end of this film makes us all question ourselves, like who are we to judge?  Yet judgments are made throughout this film, most with enormous consequences, which makes this a highly provocative crime thriller about a stolen baby, where a private eye and his good looking partner are called upon to look through the cracks and scour the dregs of what the police usually overlook or can’t see. 

Opening in first person narration, this initially has the feel of a literary warhorse like SOPHIE’S CHOICE (1982), where the poetic thoughts invoke something outside our comprehension, beyond our grasp, yet then veers into the working class neighborhoods of Boston in a completely unpretentious view of the world, where a baby has gone missing and a distraught family is on the news begging for her safe return.  Suspicious of the police, the family hires this improbable young couple, hoping they know people who don’t talk to the police.  Into the seedy underworld they go, with the beautiful girl following his every move into the gutter, through back room bars, into the homes of crack dealers, where we learn that the foul-mouthed crackhead mother (Amy Ryan) with the missing girl moves within these circles, a mother who may have put her own daughter at risk just for a chance to get high.  Eventually the private eyes team up with a couple of veteran detectives (Ed Harris and Nick Poole), an unsavory relationship from the outset, each openly suspicious of the other, where Kenzie is told to “Go back to your Harry Potter books.”  What’s most surprising perhaps to the viewer is Affleck’s immediate ascension to lead man on the case, where he appears more like a cop than a cop, yet he’s not supposed to be a cop, just a guy from the neighborhood.  This is the first of a series of improbable occurrences that stretch one’s credulity, but Affleck makes it work with his profanity laced chutzpah, standing up to thugs and hoods like he’s been doing it all his life, showing the kind of balls that gains immediate acceptance into a cop’s world.  As the danger mounts, so do the unsavory characters.  The division between male and female is tested, as they’re challenged in very different ways.  The tense atmosphere makes it hard to separate the good guys from the bad, as they’re continuously interwoven into each other’s lives, mirror reflections of this kind of sick underworld where intense flare ups are routine, where staring down the barrel of a gun becomes the measure of a man, not the kind of world most of us would choose to enter, which makes it all the more intriguing when we witness moral leaps of faith.

This brooding contemplative thriller is a series of mood swings that moves like a chessboard across this murky landscape, where every action causes an unexpected reaction, with inexplicable consequences that only grow darker as the film progresses.  Monaghan is overly pretty and never feels right when the going gets rough, but the rest of the cast has a hard edge that’s been through tough times.  Written by MYSTIC RIVER (2003) novelist Dennis Lehane, we’re once again asked to examine modern day morals under siege, where there’s a thick layer of grime like quicksand just under the surface pulling us all too easily into this morass of moral ambiguity where it’s much simpler to look the other way, and righteous indignity has a youthful, idealist resemblance to Crusader Rabbit with a witty arcane charm that feels instantly outdated and out of place.  Despite some off-the-rails plot twists, this is a film of ideas where the believability of the actors makes all the difference in the world and the strong performances are supported by the weight of the film, a surprisingly strong effort that never bows to the outsider money interests of happy endings commercialism and maintains its integrity right through to the end in a shot that visually recalls the final shot of Ryan Gosling in HALF NELSON (2006), but offers a bleaker ray of hope.      

Se7en

SE7EN                        B+                     

USA  (127 mi)  1995  ‘Scope  d:  David Fincher

I just don’t think I can continue to live in a place that embraces and nurtures apathy as if it was virtue.           —Detective William Somerset (Morgan Freeman)

It’s a dark and foreboding world set in some timeless and nonspecific present.  What’s worse? It’s wet, where a deluge of rain continuously pummels a hellish dark city drenched in a criminally infested cesspool that starts resembling Sodom and Gomorrah.  This is a fatalistically grim and enormously creepy serial killer film, where the production values are coolly impressive, but like most Fincher films, the emotional detachment can be overwhelming at times.  Morgan Freeman as Detective William Somerset is one of the highlights of the film as a downbeat, world weary but extremely conscientious detective who is within a few days of his retirement.  His sense of order and objective detachment has an old world quality to it, somber and scientific, a man who reflects before he acts, whereas the other cops are more temperamental and hot-headed, prone to knee-jerk reactions where they want to play the hero, as exemplified by a new detective assigned to work with him, Brad Pitt as Detective David Mills.  In fact, Somerset immediately sees Mills as a detriment to solving the most recent case, a particularly horrific murder, as Mills confidently jumps headlong into the thick of it like a young hotshot without any serious regard for what he’s dealing with.  Mills is quickly assigned to another murder which is equally egregious, where the two are destined to share evidence as if by fate.  But it’s Somerset’s dogged persistence working studiously in the library that gets a handle on just what they’re dealing with, as the killer is naming each abominable murder with one of the Seven Deadly Sins, which suggests more are forthcoming.  What’s truly bloodcurdling about each murder is the methodical degree of patience exhibited by the killer as he inflicts excruciating and unthinkable amounts of pain before each victim dies, where he may even force them to mutilate themselves during the process.  All this precedes the SAW (2004 – 2010) series, notorious for their gruesomely graphic depictions of sadistic torture porn, where this is more suggestive, as the actions have already taken place offscreen before the detectives discover the catastrophic remains.

This is not the tense thriller of MANHUNTER (1986) or THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS (1991), both of which focus on the psychological profile of a monsterish psycho killer, instead this is seen through the differing perspectives of the two investigating cops as they try to piece together the necessary materials to catch the guy, who remains unseen and out of reach for the first two-thirds of the film.  Mills has brought along his wife, Gwyneth Paltrow, in his transfer to the city, but it’s clear she’s unhappy there, that the move was more likely based on his personal career ambitions, while that’s the kind of mental clutter Somerset has little use for, as his laid back approach is more low key and unassuming.  The biggest problem of the film is the casting of Pitt, who continually whines and overacts and is clearly outclassed by the relaxed intelligence yet judicious manner of Somerset, who is in every way Mills’ superior, but humble enough to allow Mills to run the investigation due to his approaching final days on the force.  Mills never rises to the occasion, never elevates his stature, and never shows the cautious professionalism of a good detective.  Moreover, he’s not a very sympathetic figure, where his impatience and casual air of reckless nonchalance can easily get others into trouble and allow criminals to walk away free, as he’s seduced by a world of shortcuts and quick fixes.  His temperamental cowboy mentality is in stark contrast to the more intellectually refined and cerebral Somerset, a man alone in a world that has passed him by, moving at an altogether slower pace than the world around him, which is portrayed as a nightmarishly corrupt city of neverending crime.

It is this incessant stream of unstoppable crime and the public’s apathy to it that is leading Somerset into retirement, yet he lingers on the case knowing Mills doesn’t have the experience or expertise to apprehend such a coldly calculating, viciously brutal killer.  Throughout the entire ordeal, the key to understanding this dark and disturbing noir universe can be found in the sad eyes and defeated voice of Morgan Freeman, whose agonizing sense of despair in the face of such ghastly horrors lends a sense of unexpected clarity.  The biggest strength of the film is a dazzling opening credit sequence and the visual invention of cinematographer Darius Khondji that gives the film some magnificent architectural looks resembling the crumbling and decaying world of Blade Runner (1982), moving back and forth between immense open space and cramped, claustrophobic quarters, as the detectives creep through the tight hallways and blood-filled crime scenes investigating the murders, where you can reach out and seemingly touch the wallpaper peeling from the walls.  Even worse is the hypnotic sense of awe and disbelief as they enter the lair of a psychopath with his multiple connecting rooms, some with religious significance and some resembling a scientific torture chamber, complete with Medieval devices.  Apparently only in Somerset’s retreat into the quiet enormity of the library is there any sense of calm or prevailing order, as otherwise the world outside is continually seen in utter turmoil, almost like a nightmarish apocalyptic vision of a world in ruin.  When the elusive killer finally reveals himself, heard first as a voice over the phone (uncredited, but marvelously committed to the role), he’s like an avenging angel of doom carrying out the terrifying wrath of God.  Fincher does an excellent job withholding the presence of the killer until the end while continually sustaining a tense and taut atmosphere throughout.  The pace of this morbidly compelling film never wavers, while the astonishing finale is abruptly shocking and uncompromising.