Brian De Palma has made bad movies before. "Raising Cain," "Wise Guys," "The Bonfire of the Vanities," "Femme Fatale," and "Mission to Mars" … For a supposedly "major" director, De Palma's track record is seriously flawed. For every "Carlito's Way" or "The Untouchables," there seem to be two "Body Doubles." Prone to infuriating stylistic tics and slapdash misogyny, it is little wonder that De Palma's legacy — which was already in doubt during his glory days during the '70s and '80s — has almost totally eroded heading into the 21st century.
Nothing De Palma has done before, however, can prepare us for his newest film, "The Black Dahlia," which is easily De Palma's worst movie. Based on a novel by James Elroy ("L.A. Confidential"), the film is an ugly, soulless, misogynistic film noir. Like all of De Palma's films, there are flashes of brilliance, but the overall effect is so toxic, so unpleasant, that it is nearly impossible to watch.
The film is a fictionalized account of the still-unsolved murder of Elizabeth Short, a struggling actress who was found disemboweled on a lonely stretch of a Los Angeles road on Jan. 15, 1947. The film follows the path of the two detectives assigned to the investigation — the young, introspective Bucky Bleichert (Josh Hartnett, "Lucky Number Slevin") and hotheaded Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart, "Thank You for Smoking") as they try and solve the case.
As the two men bond over amateur boxing and candlelit dinners put on by Blanchard's girlfriend (Scarlett Johansson, "Scoop," who seems lost as she is relegated to playing the thankless role of Lee's all-trusting significant other), each man deals with the investigation in his own way. Blanchard almost goes into a hermetic state, shutting himself off and becoming more and more obsessed with the minutia of the case, while Bleichert spins off and begins collecting suspects.
Bleichert's trail leads him to heiress Madeline Linscott (played by Hillary Swank, "Million Dollar Baby," in a confused, one-note performance) who may or may not have had an affair with Short. She looks like Short, acts like Short and dresses like Short (she does not, however, sound like Short — Swank's accent jumps all over the map).
The cast is a good one, but De Palma puts them into some very strange positions. Never known as an actor's director, De Palma puts all the emphasis on using his stylistic tics in order to establish atmosphere and character. Granted, Josh Friedman's script is too simple with regards to both plot and character. For a film noir, the arc is way too simple, as there is really only one suspect.
Hartnett's performance is actually quite respectable — quiet and introspective — but it feels like it is from a different film. It's far too subtle and nuanced (read: good) for a movie like this. Eckhart fits into the film a bit more, although that's not necessarily a good thing. After seeing him in "Thank You For Smoking" and now in "The Black Dahlia," it's not surprising that audiences are starting to find him increasingly intolerable and one-note as an actor. Here, his performance has a certain kind of schizophrenia that is almost admirable in its confusion — Blanchard veers from confident, to haunted, to conniving, sometimes all in one scene. Swank's performance is similarly confused, and Johansson is not used properly. The real standout in the cast, however, is Mia Kirshner (TV's "24"), who turns in a haunting, blisteringly effective performance as Short. Even though she is seen only in four key scenes, Kirshner's performance is so evocative and searing that she should earn an Academy Award nomination, even though the movie is a disaster. Whenever she is on the screen, her performance is better than De Palma and his movie deserve.
All of these problems, however, are nothing compared with what really ails the film — the unmistakable feeling of misogyny that colors the movie. The problems are both macro — the whole movie is based on a woman being cut in half and left by the side of the road — and micro — note the way De Palma parades Johansson around in angora sweaters.
De Palma has never been a director to eschew fetishizing violence, but again, he goes over board. There's no reason for him to linger so lovingly over the sight of Short's corpse on the operating table. There's no reason we need to see every detail of Short's murder. The fact that De Palma is such a waste as a director even makes Kirshner's performance more evocative and heartbreaking. Still, even as the hearts of audience members break for her, it only makes viewers hate the film even more.
Grade: 1 out of 5
