It's a finely made movie, beginning with Michael Small's deliciously jazzy score which rolls along under the credits, using only rhythm and vibes. At more dramatic moments the theme is echoed by a mournful oboe. There are touches of Gil Evans and Gunther Schuller in the arrangements. The score could probably stand alone.
The performances vary from professional to considerably more than that. James Woods is his usual cocky hypermanic self but it fits the role. Edward Binns is a serviceable utility player. Jennifer Warren is given some lines suggesting she sees herself as homely, and it's true she's not gorgeous, but only by Hollywood standards. As it is, she's on the cusp, and she has a face that intimates character, and a nice figure to boot, though her delivery sounds more like suburban Connecticut than the Southern semi-trash the character is supposed to be. Melanie Griffith makes a very acceptable 16-year-old nympho who spreads sex around the way some other people spread good will. Susan Clark as Hackman's wife is adequate. She has an outre kind of beauty. She has a wide mouth and her upper and lower lips seem to be of identical shape. And she has the eyebrows of the Mona Lisa, which is to say none at all.
The truly outstanding performance is Gene Hackman's. He's always good without ever being bravura, but here he outdoes himself as Harry Moseby, the sleuth who's going to solve all the world's puzzles. I'll just give one example of what I mean. Watch him during the scene in which he's in bed with Clark, dipping marshmallows into the fondu and telling her the story of how he tracked down the father who'd left him as a child. He's never spilled the beans to her about this incident before. It's an intense scene. But Hackman doesn't weep or pull his hair and pound the pillow with his fist. He snickers awkwardly, makes a few feeble attempts at wisecracks, and stumbles over his words. His awkwardness masks the emotional intensity of the moment. Hackman doesn't feel the need to tell us more than that. Few self-sufficient grown men would. Well, one more example. Watch his response when Griffith, on first meeting him, asks directly, "How old are you?" Watch the way he combines a chuckle at her effrontery with a direct and unashamed answer to her question.
I need to mention Rosemary Murphy too. It would be criminal not to. We meet her as a selfish slut who only wants her daughter, Griffith, returned to her in order to deprive her divorced husband of Griffith's companionship. When Griffith turns up dead, Harry storms into Murphy's house and confronts her at the swimming pool. He chews her out for her all-too-obvious failings. She listens to this while lying on a lounge in the Southern California sunshine, a table full of booze paraphernalia next to her. When Harry's fulguration is finished, she gets uncertainly to her feet, falls against the table and smashes some glass, and we realize for the first time just how drunk she really is. She disses him for his self-righteousness and adds, "Some day I might cry for the little bitch, but when I do you won't be here," and then dismisses him. I can't think of another actress who would have pulled off that scene with such panache.
The same can't be said for the plot. It could (and should) have stayed a first-rate mystery. It's convoluted, sure, but it makes sense at the end. Instead, the writers and the director have bulked it up with "significance." Instead of settling for a well-done genre piece, they've opted for an examination of ontological Angst. What's it all about? There are multiple indications that Harry is overreaching and looking for answers that no one is capable of finding. Now I happen to think that this is a pretty noble quest but nobody else in the movie does. They all discourage him and ridicule him.
Harry demonstrates some tricky knight moves in a chess game to Jennifer Warren and she says, "It's beautiful." I didn't get it. I mean, I get the pun but what does a chess game have to do with the rest of the movie? The movie closes with a visual pun, a wounded Harry in a boat out in the Gulf of Mexico. The boat is beyond his control and is going around in circles. Why? As far as the case is concerned, Harry isn't going around in circles. He's just figured the whole thing out. As far as some banality like "life is pointless" is concerned, the movie hasn't earned the right to lecture us on the subject.
Overall the movie is exceptionally bitter. Except for Harry, there's no one in it who is really straight. It's a bleak view of the society we live in. I guess I don't mind hearing that lecture but I do wish Penn had chosen to resolve the ambiguous ending. Does Harry make it to shore or not? I'd like to know the answer to that. I gave up trying to find the answer to life years ago.
The performances vary from professional to considerably more than that. James Woods is his usual cocky hypermanic self but it fits the role. Edward Binns is a serviceable utility player. Jennifer Warren is given some lines suggesting she sees herself as homely, and it's true she's not gorgeous, but only by Hollywood standards. As it is, she's on the cusp, and she has a face that intimates character, and a nice figure to boot, though her delivery sounds more like suburban Connecticut than the Southern semi-trash the character is supposed to be. Melanie Griffith makes a very acceptable 16-year-old nympho who spreads sex around the way some other people spread good will. Susan Clark as Hackman's wife is adequate. She has an outre kind of beauty. She has a wide mouth and her upper and lower lips seem to be of identical shape. And she has the eyebrows of the Mona Lisa, which is to say none at all.
The truly outstanding performance is Gene Hackman's. He's always good without ever being bravura, but here he outdoes himself as Harry Moseby, the sleuth who's going to solve all the world's puzzles. I'll just give one example of what I mean. Watch him during the scene in which he's in bed with Clark, dipping marshmallows into the fondu and telling her the story of how he tracked down the father who'd left him as a child. He's never spilled the beans to her about this incident before. It's an intense scene. But Hackman doesn't weep or pull his hair and pound the pillow with his fist. He snickers awkwardly, makes a few feeble attempts at wisecracks, and stumbles over his words. His awkwardness masks the emotional intensity of the moment. Hackman doesn't feel the need to tell us more than that. Few self-sufficient grown men would. Well, one more example. Watch his response when Griffith, on first meeting him, asks directly, "How old are you?" Watch the way he combines a chuckle at her effrontery with a direct and unashamed answer to her question.
I need to mention Rosemary Murphy too. It would be criminal not to. We meet her as a selfish slut who only wants her daughter, Griffith, returned to her in order to deprive her divorced husband of Griffith's companionship. When Griffith turns up dead, Harry storms into Murphy's house and confronts her at the swimming pool. He chews her out for her all-too-obvious failings. She listens to this while lying on a lounge in the Southern California sunshine, a table full of booze paraphernalia next to her. When Harry's fulguration is finished, she gets uncertainly to her feet, falls against the table and smashes some glass, and we realize for the first time just how drunk she really is. She disses him for his self-righteousness and adds, "Some day I might cry for the little bitch, but when I do you won't be here," and then dismisses him. I can't think of another actress who would have pulled off that scene with such panache.
The same can't be said for the plot. It could (and should) have stayed a first-rate mystery. It's convoluted, sure, but it makes sense at the end. Instead, the writers and the director have bulked it up with "significance." Instead of settling for a well-done genre piece, they've opted for an examination of ontological Angst. What's it all about? There are multiple indications that Harry is overreaching and looking for answers that no one is capable of finding. Now I happen to think that this is a pretty noble quest but nobody else in the movie does. They all discourage him and ridicule him.
Harry demonstrates some tricky knight moves in a chess game to Jennifer Warren and she says, "It's beautiful." I didn't get it. I mean, I get the pun but what does a chess game have to do with the rest of the movie? The movie closes with a visual pun, a wounded Harry in a boat out in the Gulf of Mexico. The boat is beyond his control and is going around in circles. Why? As far as the case is concerned, Harry isn't going around in circles. He's just figured the whole thing out. As far as some banality like "life is pointless" is concerned, the movie hasn't earned the right to lecture us on the subject.
Overall the movie is exceptionally bitter. Except for Harry, there's no one in it who is really straight. It's a bleak view of the society we live in. I guess I don't mind hearing that lecture but I do wish Penn had chosen to resolve the ambiguous ending. Does Harry make it to shore or not? I'd like to know the answer to that. I gave up trying to find the answer to life years ago.