Morality of Pre-Crime just skims the surface

MINORITY REPORT (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2002)

Something has happened to Steven Spielberg - he has been haunted by the ghost of Stanley Kubrick. The warm, sensitive, sentimental Spielberg is trying to tap into the darker recesses of fables and science-fiction stories. After last year's fabulous "A.I.," itself based on ideas by Kubrick, Spielberg was aiming for something more ominous and foreboding, and he basically succeeds with his new science-fiction dazzler, "Minority Report."

Cropped-haired Tom Cruise stars as John Anderton, the chief of Pre-Crime, an organization in Washington, D.C. that prevents actual crimes from happening. They manage this feat with the use of Pre-Cogs, precognitive humans who lie in a water tank and are tapped into some video computer that shows their premonitions of upcoming crimes, mostly homicides. When the main Pre-Cog, Agatha (Samantha Morton), the strongest of the three Pre-Cogs, sees a vision, a red ball is unleashed through some tubes with the name of the murderer. John's job is to use a high-tech system using motion control to find where the murderer will commit the crime. Along with his compatriots, they travel to the destination on a ship and prevent the murder within seconds. Pre-crime is a solid, workable system that has prevented crimes from taking place in almost six years (only, of course, in D.C.). The bureau director of this organization, Burgess (Max Von Sydow), is facing a crucial election year where Pre-Crime has been under total scrutiny. Enter the cynical bureaucrat from the Justice Department, Danny Witwer (Colin Farrell), who questions the validity of Pre-Crime, and is sure that flaws must exist in this system. Before you know it, John Anderton is in hot water when he discovers that he will commit murder himself.

Based on a short story by Philip K. Dick, "Minority Report" has a lot of story to work with, and it helps that Cruise is cast as the hot-blooded, doped-up John, facing his own crisis over the loss of his son. Cruise makes John the hero to root for in a world that is grayish and washed-out, thanks to the dazzling cinematography by Spielberg regular Janusz Kaminski. This world is no picnic and technology has taken precedence over personal privacy. The year is 2054 and we see souped-up Lexus cars that can travel on ramps alongside the surfaces of buildings, plants that move and can poison intruders in private homes, eye scanners at every single street corner, advertisements that salute you particularly at Gap stores, newspapers that have rapidly changing images, spider-like robots that search for murder suspects, and so on. It is a world as eerily prescient as the world shown in "Blade Runner," and now that the FBI can scan library records of just about anyone, our universe is becoming just as Orwellian as ever.

The aspects of Pre-Crime are fascinating, particularly the nature of it and if any flaws exist in a supposedly foolproof system. That is the function of the Danny Witwer character, questioning if any crime would have ever existed and if the Pre-Cogs could ever have been wrong in their assertions and visions. What if a homicide that took place was justifiable in some way? What about self-defense? What about a crime that leads to some positive consequences? The morality at stake of preventing crimes that may happen in the future is frightening, if you consider the consequences. And it comes out of John's character who may commit a murder, but to whom and why? Spielberg, however, is not as willing to plunge deeply with such questions. Despite working with Kubrick's ideas in "A.I." and fusing a questionable future for a child robot, Spielberg brings us close to the immorality of Pre-Crime but refuses to stick with the ideas. It is like watching a magician who speaks of magic tricks yet never actually performs them. This is no surprise coming from the eternal optimist who believes that hope will always prevail. Kubrick or, for that matter, Ridley Scott might have stuck with the phase that is set in motion because they see that darkness sometimes prevails, and the consequences of real-life crimes sometimes prevents others from seeing the wrongdoing ahead of time. The future is never that bright in movies, so the last thing I expect is a happy ending.

"Minority Report" is a stunning achievement in special-effects and production design, and Cruise fires his acting missiles with acute timing and perfect pitch. I like some of the dark humor in the film and the Kubrickian homages, and the film does have a spellbinding look to it - it is like a darkly humorous, sci-fi noir comedy. But it also goes on too long just when it appears it might have ended (a common Spielberg fallacy) and the last section in the film is overwrought and overdone. Still, it is quite a marvel of a film and the ironic look into the future of privacy invasion is haunting.

Wagging the Dog

A Look Back at PRIMARY COLORS (1998) and THE WAR ROOM (1993)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Both originally reviewed in 1998)

 After hearing the media's relentless obsession over President Clinton's sexual life and personal affairs (not to mention "Wag the Dog"), we get Mike Nichols' irreverent, deeply hysterical "Primary Colors" that centers on a presidential candidate trying to evade questions about purported sexual dalliances. This couldn't be a more timely subject and make no mistake, this film is about President Clinton. "Primary Colors" also reminded me of the intoxicating documentary "The War Room" from 1993, which focused on Governor Clinton's run for the presidency in 1992. The same basic premise exists for both films: the underdog aiming for the presidency amid a flurry of rumors and personal bashing.

"Primary Colors" stars John Travolta as the white-haired, doughnut-eating, Arkansas-bred Jack Stanton who vies for the presidential office. As played by Travolta, Jack is quite a charmer and full of charisma, more so than Clinton. He is even married to a Hillary Clinton-type, played to the hilt by Emma Thompson using an authentic American accent. Stanton gets help from his campaign staff headed by a James Carville-redneck-type (Billy Bob Thornton), and a promising, idealistic campaign staffer Henry Burton (Adrian Lester). Jack has fleeting sexual flings with co-workers while the staff prepares a campaign aimed at proving to the people that Stanton believes in putting the people's needs first.

Unfortunately, Stanton's sexual history is put at the forefront of the political forum and is exploited by fellow candidates, including Gov. Fred Picker (Larry Hagman in top form) who enters the race late - Picker may intentionally remind you of Ross Perot. In order to defend himself against verbal attacks and seemingly fabricated tape recordings, Jack enlists the help of an old friend, Libby Holden (an intense Kathy Bates) a.k.a. "Dustbuster," a lesbian, all-purpose troubleshooter who has no qualms about placing a gun on a man's privates.

"Primary Colors" is based on the book of the same name by Anonymous (recently known as political journalist Joe Klein), and it is rife with richly drawn characters, an acidly sharp script by Elaine May, and astute direction by Mike Nichols. It is a film that begins as comedy and slowly evolves into a dark satire - a reproach of the process by which someone like Jack Stanton gets elected despite the personal allegations.

"The War Room" is a vibrant, witty excursion into the presidential campaign of 1992 when then Gov. Clinton was running for office. The film follows the campaign process via chief political strategist James Carville and adviser George Stephanopoulos, and is all set in the "war room," formerly a Little Rock newspaper office.

Carville and Stephanopoulos are two of the most charismatic characters I've seen in a documentary (or film) in a long time, and they couldn't be more opposite in their physical demeanor. Carville, in his Southern drawl, is always actively making decisions whether it's about prepared speeches, the look of a campaign poster, or arguing endlessly on the phone about the other candidates or Clinton's past - "Every time somebody even farts the word 'draft,' it makes the paper." Stephanopoulos is the more timid, quiet, reserved individual - he reminds me a lot of Michael J. Fox's character Alex P. Keaton in "Family Ties"; Fox subsequently played a variation of George in "The American President." George is more subtle and calm than Carville, and operates in an equally articulate manner. At one crucial point, George receives a call from a black woman claiming to have given birth to Clinton's child. George convinces the caller that she will be ridiculed in the press if she comes out with such a sensational story. This scene is reminiscent of the scene in "Primary Colors" where Stanton's advisers visit a teenage black girl claiming to have the candidate's baby.

As directed by D.A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus, "The War Room" is very keen on details and conversations between staff and personnel regarding the plight of the Clinton campaign. The atmosphere grows more and more tense as we get to the inevitable climax where Clinton wins the nomination in the election victory. On the eve of the election, Carville gives an emotional speech regarding the strong effort he and his aides have made in helping Clinton, and the positive effect politics has had on his life. George is even questioned by the secretary as to how he feels: "Exhausted."

"The War Room" could have used more footage of Clinton and perhaps the filmmakers could have caught him in truly private, unguarded moments as to how he really felt about the adultery charges. Still, "The War Room" and "Primary Colors" greatly succeed in capturing the political atmosphere and the exhausting process in which a candidate is elected. The irony is that Clinton and Stanton's adulterous affairs not only sidestepped their political agendas, but made them stronger candidates for the presidency. In other words, give the people what they want.

Bright Angel in Tennessee Williams territory

JUNEBUG (2005)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Junebug" is one of those rarities - a cinematic treat that works in many ways, and yet undercuts most of what it could have delivered. It has promise, skill, choice lines of dialogue, a fine cast, but they do not coalesce to deliver the socko punch of a family drama.

Don't get me to say that I am one of those who expect a family drama to be unambiguous and clear-cut - not at all. One of my favorite dramas dealing with the breakdown of a family, minus clichés and melodrama, was "Shoot the Moon." One of the worst was a little-known melodrama about parental abuse called "Firstborn" (oddly, those two films starred Peter Weller). I also admire an understated style, as in "Ordinary People," and the hyperbolic stylings of "American Beauty." "Junebug" is in the understated category, and it details the breakdown of a family minus clichés and melodrama.

A pair of young Chicago newlyweds, Madeleine (Embeth Davidtz) and George (Alessandro Nivola), are headed to North Carolina. One aspect of their trip is for Madeleine to promote a bold and original painter for a showing at an art gallery. While they are in town, Madeleine meets George's family who give new definition to the word repression. George's mother, Peg (Celia Weston), is anything but friendly. George's brother, Johnny (Benjamin McKenzie), barely makes much eye contact, has trouble operating a VCR and has a giddy pregnant wife, Ashley (Oscar-nominated Amy Adams). There is also George's virtually silent father, Eugene (Scott Wilson), whose primary goal is to find his Philips screwdriver. Not exactly a happy household that spreads good cheer.

Peg and Eugene are the version of real-life parents that we probably have encountered at one time or another. They are humorless, devoid of emotion, and barely up for small talk. Peg seems happiest at a baby shower whereas Eugene merely walks through life, perhaps having given up on any social interaction.

Johnny is happiest at work and absolutely miserable at home (his mother is always pestering him). There is some tension, perhaps some unspoken feud, with his brother George, though we never learn what that is. Johnny loves his wife Ashley, but he may not be ready for a baby or a life with her. As Ashley suggests in the movie's best line, "God loves you the way you are, but he loves you too much to let you stay that way."

It is only Ashley that seems like the bright angel who can set this family in a more hopeful direction. She is the inquisitive type, excited to see her brother-in-law and his new bride. Ashley asks Madeleine questions a mile a minute, and seems to brighten Madeleine's day.

"Junebug" is a movie about character interaction, setting each character to interact with the other, often isolating two at a time in individual rooms (it is surprising that the film was not adapted from a play). Madeleine tries to reason and understand Johnny's pain. Peg and Eugene, in again individual moments, do not respond to Madeleine's humor. Ashley tries to have some fun activities with Madeleine, including having their nails painted and going to a mall - their relationship is the only one that actually does work. Johnny is consistently berated by his mother, and takes out his aggression on Ashley. Peg obviously prefers her other son, George, though he doesn't figure as much in the action.

"Junebug" is the feature debut of director Phil Morrison (from a script by Angus MacLachlan), and it is a stunning achievement. Morrison has an eye for character detail and meticulous attention paid to tone (it may be too soon to say it but he's parading on Tennessee Williams' territory and that is a good thing). The screenplay, acting and the largely rigid camerawork exemplify a rare grace unseen in most current films. If I have a couple of gripes, it is the portrayal of the far too repressed character of Eugene, George's father. The insight is in the wearying wrinkles and his lack of communication but this guy would've been more at home in Edith Wharton land than in the 2000 decade of South Carolina. That is not to say that such characters do not exist in modern times, they do, but such pure scrutiny to reality is not always the best route when you present such a character with no true inner life.

The same can be said for George and Madeleine who exist more as characters defined by their work than anything else. Madeleine may be soul searching, thanks to a subtle reawakening by Ashley, so that is a forgivable slight on the screenwriter's part (and her final scenes as played by Davitz are a revelation). Unfortunately, George's character is practically left in the sidelines. Though we understand George is a clear favorite son of his mother's, any other insights are to be gained by inference, not by ambiguity.

"Junebug" is a fascinating, troubling, exasperating, exhausting, quietly affecting drama but it lacks something pungent, something more forceful. The movie is all about ambiguities and not much depth, and such ambiguity serves some characters better than others. In the case of Ashley, she is such an incandescent beauty that it is surprising that none of the other characters can crack a smile in her presence.

Too cruel to be kind

INTOLERABLE CRUELTY (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2003)

For every "Fargo" and "Blood Simple," there is a "Raising Arizona" or a "O' Brother, Where Art Thou?" In other words, the Coen Brothers can be at their best in their film noir mode, as proven with their last great film, "The Man Who Wasn't There," or they can create comic inanities the size of the moon, especially "Raising Arizona." "Intolerable Cruelty" is the Coens in their inanely comic mode with bizarre sequences and histrionic acting. It worked in "Big Lebowski" but here, it results in a humdrum disaster.

As is the case with most movies nowadays, "Intolerable Cruelty" starts off well. In the opening sequence, Geoffrey Rush plays a ponytailed TV producer who finds his wife cheating on him with the pool cleaner (a scene not unlike "Mulholland Dr." where a film director finds his wife in bed with the pool cleaner). Rush goes berserk, gets stabbed by his wife, starts shooting at her, and then calmly takes pictures of his butt so he can sue her in court. Then we are treated to a delightful opening credits sequence with Cupids firing arrows while we hear Elvis Presley's "Suspicious Minds." I thought we were in for a real treat. I was wrong.

George Clooney plays a cold-hearted divorce lawyer named Miles Massey, who is as concerned with the whiteness of his teeth as he is with the law or his fool proof prenup (one used in law school apparently). When he is in court, he is king of the hill. He oversees so many divorce cases that he is likely to lose his marbles (of course, the Coens show him off his rocker from the start). Then he becomes seriously smitten one day with Marylin Rexroth (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a serial divorcee seeking separation from her philandering husband (Edward Herrmann, looking more foolish than ever). Of course, Massey falls for Marylin's charms quickly, after winning the case against her, to the point that he would marry her and forgo his ironclad Massey prenup. But then Marylin marries some Texas oil tycoon (Billy Bob Thornton), whose manner of speech is as incomprehensible as the rest of the movie.

"Intolerable Cruelty" could be the Coens' own homage to the screwball comedy genre, a genre worth commemorating with the likes of classics such as "Bringing Up Baby" and "His Girl Friday." Unfortunately the film is hardly funny and seems to coast on the swagger and over-exaggerated expressions of its stars, including George Clooney. I knew something was off when Clooney spends a lot of time fretting over his teeth, a trait not likely to be found in any of the leading men of the past. At least Zeta-Jones plays down the exaggeration, much to her benefit. She is a becalming presence, as sensuous, iridescent and glamorous as an actress can get. Her performance is the sole saving grace of this endless, deadly bore.

The rest of the cast acts funny, mugging excessively to the camera. Sometimes they speak in hushed tones, sometimes they scream out their lines. Some of the dialogue is clever, but you'd be hard-pressed to understand every bit of it. There is a cantankerous aging lawyer, strapped to a chair with tubes to keep him alive, who offers legal advice to Clooney - a Coens invention to be sure but I missed every word he said. Then there is an asthmatic hit man! Oh, yes, and then there is the private investigator (Cedric the Entertainer) who takes pictures of philandering husbands and wives caught with their pants down. All these characters are stripped of emotion, humanity or wit - they are like automatons operated by remote control.

"Intolerable Cruelty" looks like it was assembled out of outtakes and, to quote Andrew Dice Clay (!), it is all about as funny as a bottle of milk. It is a grueling, embarrassingly frustrating experience - all the more so for the extraordinary talent involved. One would have to be cruel to recommend it.

It is good s**t

BURN AFTER READING (2008)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2008)

How do I review the Coens latest wacky comedy? Tough to say except that it is blazingly original and wacky and schizophrenic and, occasionally, hilarious and spectacularly uneven. You know, the usual brand of Coens humor.

John Malkovich is CIA analyst Osborne Cox, who is beyond upset that his services are no longer required due to rampant drunkenness. He is unhappily married to Katie (Tilda Swinton), who is having an affair with one of the strangest Coens characters ever, Harry Pfarrer (George Clooney), a married and paranoid federal marshal who has a predilection for dildos! Harry navigates an online dating service where he meets Linda Litzke (Frances McDormand), who works at a gym called Hardbodies. It is there where the foolhardy and foolish Chad Feldheimer (the hilarious and truly zonked-out Brad Pitt) comes upon a computer disk that supposedly contains CIA secrets ("It is s**t and more s**t.") Somehow all this leads to the irascible Osbourne Cox, who is trying to write his memoirs, Cox's CIA boss (J.K. Simmons) who hopes to make sense of all this, Pfarrer's paranoia thinking he is being followed, and some business revolving around Litzke's planned plastic surgery and the alleged CIA disk being sold to the Russian Embassy.

On the Coens scale of pure frenetic idiocy, this is not as much fun as "The Big Lebowski" but it is far superior to "Hudsucker Proxy" and "Intolerable Cruelty." All the actors in "Burn After Reading" pretty much overact and do it as well as you can imagine. Brad Pitt comes off best as the most idiotic and memorable character in the Coens universe, salivating every syllable of the Coens language to the nth degree. Clooney is rather creepy in this film, playing a very mysterious character to say the least. McDormand is always fun to watch as is the underrated Richard Jenkins, the manager of Hardbodies who doesn't like espionage. Malkovich gives the F-bombs a special kind of lunacy with his temperamental diction - you swear he is saying the words as if they were written by Shakespeare. Brilliant, I say.

"Burn After Reading" is manic, riotously funny and rather empty. It is full of calories but it pretty much dissolves after its abrupt ending and you wonder, what the heck was that all about? Why am I still hungry after it is over? I love jokey, harebrained movies like this, which are hardly a dime a dozen, but I am not sure what to take away from it. Just like its equally jocose cousin, "The Big Lebowski," that movie also ended before it should have. I guess the best way I can describe it is like this: "Big Lebowski" was about a stained rug that managed to involve bowling alleys, cremation, violent Vietnam Vets, mixed identities and Yma Sumac. "Burn After Reading" is about a CIA computer disk that involves gyms, plastic surgery, dildo contraptions, unfortunate encounters, paranoia and some other s**t. It is good s**t but don't ask me to analyze this s**t.

Brilliant rock and roll film; sour, cold portrait

THE DOORS (1991)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Doors" is a hallucinatory acid-trip of a rock and roll movie...and a bummer. Ray Manzarek (Kyle MacLachlan) even tells rock superstar Jim Morrison that his last acid trip was a bummer. Exactly. There is no joy, no celebration of rock and roll as an art form in "The Doors," only as a creative means of expression fueled by drugs and nothing more. That is not to say that the movie is worthless, it is often quite brilliant and vivid and furiously alive, but there is precious little to Oliver Stone's vision other than a drunkard who did his best to appear on stage and make himself into a loud raving lunatic.

Jim Morrison is first seen in a truly hypnotic flashback as a kid who observes a car wreck involving a Native American family. The image haunts and fascinates him, and the rest of Stone's Rock and Roll Odyssey shows a Jim Morrison obsessed with death. Val Kilmer plays the young rock and roller who is at peace as a poet living on a rooftop, searching for something transcendental and falling in love with the tragic flower that was Pamela Courson (Meg Ryan, in a role that far out shadows her overbearingly cutesy rom-coms of the late 90's). When Morrison can't bear the criticism of his NYU short films, he starts writing lyrics and lets his pal, Ray Manzarek (MacLachlan), hear them as he sings. Before you know it, a band forms as they record songs such as the iconic "Light My Fire" (when Morrison takes his first crack at it, written by Robby Krieger, it will give you goosebumps).

The band calls themselves The Doors but Jim often sings at clubs with his back to the audience. Pretty soon, he faces them and begins to improvise ("This is the End" has some impromptu lyrics with regards to, well, incest that shocks the audience). The band members, including Ray on keyboards, John Densmore on drums (a fantastic Kevin Dillon) and Krieger on guitar (the underrated Frank Whaley), aren't receptive to Morrison's drug-fueled rages on stage and off. When Morrison isn't allegedly exposing himself on stage, he urinates inside a bar. When he isn't tripping on acid in the middle of the desert, he is destroying a Thanksgiving meal prepared by Pam, hoping she will stab him to death. He is an unwieldy, defiant soul who needs death to be lurking (Death makes a frequent cameo appearance in the guise of a bald man) to obtain potency when having sex. When Jim isn't screwing every groupie on tour, he finds some measure of solace with reporter Patricia Kennealy (Kathleen Quinlan), a Celtic Pagan whom he marries though he doesn't take the ceremony seriously.

Sometimes Morrison changes the lyrics when performing on the Ed Sullivan stage, sometimes he makes pronouncements that come out of left field ("Let's make a road movie in black and white. We will call it Zero"). More often than not, the man is not really attuned to his surroundings - he is outside of them.

For a visual journey back to the late 1960's and early 1970's, "The Doors" is a hyperkinetic, expressively high-pitched and poetic assault on the senses that captures the essence of the times - it is like stepping into a time machine and going back to an era I never got to witness. Never has the desert looked so beautifully mesmerizing in any film (excepting Antonioni's "The Passenger") and never has concert footage looked and felt so remarkable, as if you were there with the audience at a live show (the show stopping "Break on Through to the Other Side" number is an unbelievable sequence that has to be seen to be believed). No one can argue that Oliver Stone is an immeasurably gifted director with a keen visual eye (thanks largely to gifted cinematographer Robert Richardson). Some scenes inspire awe, such as Morrison in one of several trance states at a party where he meets Andy Warhol (Crispin Glover, relishing his cameo while licking his lips) while Lou Reed's "Heroin" plays in the background; Mimi Rogers as a sexy photographer who captures a glorious, iconic image of Jim as he removes his shirt during a photo shoot; the stunning overhead shot of Venice Beach as Ray tries to meditate as the McCoys' "Hang on Sloopy" plays; an accurate depiction of a college audience's reaction to Jim's "pretentious" student film (the student film is not an actual recreation of any of Jim's work); the desert and the caves where Jim sees the ghosts of Native Americans from that horrifying car crash of his youth, and much more. Stone has captured the look and feel of the era but not the man, and that is largely his fault. Anyone who has read a book on Morrison or seen the 2009 documentary "When You're Strange" knows that Jim may have been a hardcore alcoholic and an unrepentant drug addict, but that is only half the story.

I've seen "The Doors" in theaters twice and on video several times, and every time I watch it, I am riveted...and depressed. Those reactions may be the intentions of Oliver Stone, a director who makes you feel numb by the end of most of his films, but I wanted more out of Jim Morrison. There are half-second flashes of Morrison's humor, especially when after a recording of one his songs, his groupies are told to leave the studio and he says, "Okay, see you all later." I also love the moment when Jim tells a crowd outside of the Whisky a Go Go, "Come on! How many of you people know you are really alive?" It is Jim sending his message of opening the doors of perception. The tragedy, perhaps a false one, is that Jim stayed in a druggy trance until the end of his life. The real Patricia Kennealy had once stated what Jim wrote to her in a letter: "My side is cold without you." That is the Jim Morrison we only see flashes of - Stone's fervor feels cold without it.   

Neither here, nor there

THE MAN WHO WASN'T THERE (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2001)

I can't figure the Coens out. First, they craft a beautifully filmed atrocity like "O'Brother, Where Art Thou?" and the next year, they craft one of the best films of their career, "The Man Who Wasn't There." Go figure. The Coens are nuts but I like the fact that you never know what they will come up with next. "The Man Who Wasn't There" is a return to their film noir roots, originated by "Blood Simple" and later followed by "Fargo." What is astounding is not so much the noir elements of their latest story but that the look and feel of the film is an homage to the film noir of the 1930's and 40's with rich blacks and silhouettes clouding every scene. And those who consider black-and-white photography to be pretentious have no concept of what film noir is.

Billy Bob Thornton stars as a laconic barber named Ed Crane who works in the small town of Santa Rosa, California, circa 1949. He is married to the usually drunk Doris Crane (Frances McDormand) who is cheating on him. It turns out she is having an affair with her boss, Big Dave (James Gandolfini), who is ready to improve his store and make adjustments. Ed Crane indirectly sends a note demanding 10,000 dollars from Big Dave in exchange for keeping quiet about the affair. Only Ed has something else in mind with the money. A fastidious dry-cleaning salesman (Coen regular Jon Polito) needs a partner for his business and Ed happily obliges. Of course, it is unwise and unfair to say much more because the film is not as dependent on surprise as it is on characters who act on instinct, thus surprising us at every turn with their motives. 

The Coens have expressed their admiration for the late "dirty" novelist James Cain, who penned the deliciously naughty film noir classic "Double Indemnity." But the Coens are not as interested on twists and turns as they are on Ed's dilemma that shifts from a murder where someone else is wrongly held responsible to a life where he questions his own existence, adding an analogy about how hair grows back even when someone is dead. There are hints of other aspects to Ed's life, namely that he is living a pointless existence. He is a damn good barber and sees himself as more than just a barber, but what else is he? In one tense scene, Big Dave even asks Ed, "what kind of man are you?" Ed barely smiles much, has nothing to say and pays particular attention to other people's thoughts. He is not happily married but is devoted to his wife enough to shave her legs while she takes a bath, knowing full well she is adulterous. Ed also wants to help a seemingly talented pianist, Birdy (Scarlett Johansson), despite the fact that she has no interest in a musical career. It is obvious that Ed is unhappy in his station in life and wants to move on to other things, like the dry-cleaning business. 

In the world of film noir, the fatalistic antihero is usually virile and potent in his sexual drive, drawn to circumstances beyond his moral control. Ed is not your usual protagonist - he is not quite virile, definitely asexual and possibly impotent but he also means well. He is not quite driven to circumstances beyond his control because he basically instigates them - he just has no control of the consequences. Ed is also an observer of other people and their actions and Billy Bob Thornton is superb at evoking simple gestures through looks and glances - he is such a powerfully magnetic actor that his eyes say it all. Moments like the dinner sequence come to mind where he sees his wife laughing up a storm with Big Dave while he sits quietly nodding and barely smiling. I also enjoyed the scene where he observes Birdy talking to a male friend of hers and you see a glimmer of jealousy in his eyes. But the sexuality of Ed is also put to the test, such as the scene where the perspiring salesman makes a pass at him, or where Birdy wants to please Ed for his interest in her future in ways he had not intended. Ed wants to help people if for no better reason than to improve his life or bring some joy to an empty, pointless one.

"The Man Who Wasn't There" is consistently intriguing and gratifying from start to finish. The Coens and cinematographer Roger Deakins have encapsulated everything about noir they have learned, to instill a sense of dread and impending doom. Just like David Lynch's "Muholland Drive," there is also a fascination with the era of the late 40's and early 1950's when Roswell and communism were majorly hot topics and when couples had to learn how to live inside a house together after the war. Some of this is beautifully realized in the scenes between Ed and Doris who seem uneasy in their comfortable home - they just learn to get used to each other.

"The Man Who Wasn't There" is film noir with a postmodernist edge only in its depiction of a man who is not quite here or there - he is a nobody with no ego. Like "The Deep End," it represents a new route for the film noir leading men and women characters where they remain unaffected by the twists and turns their lives take, unaware of what is coming ahead. Pure fatalism in an existential climate where men and women do not participate in their fates as much as observe them.