Roller Coaster ride of a noir movie

BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE (2018)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

A mood of exacting noirish tones is set in motion right at the start of "Bad Times at El Royale." Some man enters a hotel, mostly in silhouette. He takes apart the floorboards and places a bag full of money under them. He covers it all back up, rather neatly, turns on the radio. Another man arrives at his room. He lets him in and BANG! My heart sank for a second watching this sequence, all told in a master shot, because blood splatters the lens (something that has become a tiresome cliche). My heart immediately sprang back to action when we hear on the soundtrack Edwin Starr's strains of "Twenty Five Miles" and immediately I knew this was going to be a decent crime flick. I had hoped for that until I realized midway through that "Bad Times at the El Royale" is actually a great crime movie, full of neatly developed plot twists, strong character types and a blazing energy throughout that slowly develops into a wallop of an ending. Oh, and the blood splatter? It makes sense later on.

Nothing is what it seems at the El Royale. A few customers arrive at this Lake Tahoe hotel, somewhere in the middle of nowhere and relatively inexpensive to boot, and are greeted by a bellboy who pretty much handles the whole darn hotel - there are no other staffers. The hotel is unusual in that a line cuts right through it, a line that separates Nevada from California (this makes for some complications about which room to board since smoking and gambling regulations apply). At first, I thought the movie was going to be more comical than serious because it could've mined the shenanigans involved in crossing the line at this hotel, when to get food and amenities, the unusual circumstances involving one solo staffer, etc. Alas, that is not to be because we see that nobody at this hotel is up to much good. Jon Hamm is presumably a vacuum cleaner salesman, Laramie, who remembers when the hotel was kicking with activity, though he is not what he seems. Laramie investigates and rips out listening devices from his room and ventures into a forbidden back room section where we can eavesdrop every room (there are two-way mirrors). Next we have the arrival of forgetful Father Daniel Flynn (Jeff Bridges) who often stands still unsure of where he is; an ex-soul singer named Darlene Sweet (Cynthia Erivo from Broadway's "Color Purple") who has encountered sexism, racism and a whole lot more, and a mysterious woman (Dakota Johnson) who writes an obscenity instead of her name on the guest list who also brings along a bound girl from her own trunk! The bellboy also passes out occasionally after ingesting heroin - not exactly the staffer of the year.

Laramie is not the only one with secrets, practically every other character harbors some well-kept secret. In almost a labyrinthian (with sanguine tones) variation on "Ten Little Indians," we begin to wonder who is really interested in that duffel bag of money and what some of the motivations are behind these characters. It may not be much of a surprise to discover that Father Flynn is not really a priest, but what motivates Darlene Sweet to commit the violent action she perpetrates against him? Why is Laramie so interested in the hotel's surveillance? What about a mysterious reel of 16mm film in the bellboy's sleeping quarters? And how about the virulent Chris Hemsworth who appears as a Manson-like cult leader as he is summoned by the young girl who is bound to a chair in Dakota's room? So many questions.

"Bad Times at the El Royale," directed by Drew Goddard ("The Cabin in the Woods"), is 2 hours and 21 minutes and every minute is packed with tension, humor, unexpected surprises and pathos. With a killer soundtrack that conveniently plays on the main floor of the hotel's jukebox, the film unfolds at a swift though never hurried pace. The performances muster just enough emotion and nuance to get the plot rolling along. Bridges towers above them all and his final scenes with Erivo are amazingly powerful. Ditto the casting of Cailee Spaeny as the bound girl who could easily pass for a Manson Girl - her character is memorably stoic and terrifying. Jon Hamm exudes a lot of the expected charm of a typical 60's salesman - hey, he's got the look down pat especially if you remember TV's "Mad Men."

Though the film is nothing new technically, it is patterned (aside from an echo of "Ten Little Indians") after Quentin Tarantino's own crime oeuvre with a dash of the Coen Brothers from the "Barton Fink" days. Tarantino lately has not been packing much of a punch but who cares - "Bad Times at El Royale" shows a lot more flair and an acute sense of itself without overplaying its hand. That is more than I can say for Tarantino who can push the running time of his films beyond what our patient butts can handle. Goddard packs it in tightly. What a roller coaster ride of a noir movie.