After having accidentally been shot in the leg by Mel (Reese Witherspoon),
the wayward daughter of his clients, former Hollywood stars Jack (Gene Hackman)
and Catherine Ames (Susan Sarandon), ex-cop turned private eye Harry Ross (Paul
Newman) ended up moving into the couple’s mansion, living above their garage as
an all-round hanger-on. Among the things that keep him there are a rather big
crush on Catherine, who is playing up to it like the Hollywood pro she is, the
loneliness of a man whose only child died years earlier and who doesn’t seem to
have much in the way of actual friends, and a sense of being needed, even if
it’s only in his mind. It certainly isn’t money keeping him there – Jack isn’t
paying Harry anything.
Things begin to take a more interesting (in the probably made-up Chinese
curse kind of way) turn for Harry when Jack asks him to deliver a package that
looks rather a lot like the kind of blackmail money envelope you always see in
detective movies to a woman. Soon, Harry’s wading through rather a lot of dead
bodes, encounters shady people, reacquaints himself with old police partners
(Stockard Channing and James Garner, mostly), and stumbles circles around a dark
secret someone is very obviously willing to kill for.
Robert Benton’s film about elderly private eye Harry Ross taking on one last
case, is a bit of a quiet joy, strolling through quite a few standard detective
tropes, myths about Hollywood (this is a very LA-centric movie), and so on,
while having thoughts about class, aging, guilt and responsibility. The film
never presents its consciousness of older detective movies with ironic air
quotation marks, but does use the structure of the genre to talk about the
things that interest Benson, carefully shifting and twisting an element here or
there without attempting to make any grand gestures of deconstructions. Which
fits my tastes rather nicely, for I don’t believe this genre actually needs to
be deconstructed or ironicized any further than it already has been in the
past.
Benton is not a viscerally exciting director – even those scenes where bad
stuff happens to people seem calm and subdued – and the film’s tempo is of a
slowness appropriate to the age of its stars. Instead, he’s trusting in his
wonderful cast of veterans, character actors and extremely competent young blood
to understand and carry the ideas of his film, which they do clearly, calmly and
to great emotional effect. Paul Newman has of course never been a terribly great
actor, most of his better moments were based on presence and face, but he can
rise to the occasion in the right movie under the right director, and Benson’s
sensibilities seem to be just the right fit. Newman certainly has a couple of
highly regarded detective roles on his CV, too, fitting into Benton’s work with
genre history here very well.
I am sure this isn’t a film for everyone – I’ve seen critics complaining
about the film being too slow (it certainly isn’t fast, but I don’t see
why it would have to be), the plot being preposterously constructed (as if that
weren’t exactly the kind of plotting you’d expect of a hard-boiled detective
movie), and so on and so forth – but if you’re like me, Twilight might
be just the right paean to the private detective as moral arbiter (or knight in
shining armour, Mr Chandler, if you insist), Dark Los Angeles, and shadows of
the past that certainly do not become lighter the older you get.
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
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