Devil in a Blue Dress (1995)
I wanted to like this movie. A good friend pressed it forward as a belated view of the black noir experience, and there was such truth that the urban black world hadn't seen any attention in the classic noir days (post-War) I had to watch it.
But this is more belated than anything. It's loaded with clichés without really moving them anywhere new (and a stale cliché is really deadening). The director AND screenwriter, Carl Franklin, is relatively untested—he's done a bunch of t.v. stuff, an African-American with talent as an a actor but a little stretched here, I think. The star does his best to hold it together, none other than Denzel Washington, but in fact even he is following old patterns a bit listlessly. This is really clear when a truly brilliant actor arrives on the scene—Don Cheadle—and in his moments there is finally a rising up and synthesis of intentions.
The plot is almost a given—a detective on the outs faces a terrible crime, and a mysterious woman (call her a femme fatale if you want, but she's too plastic to work for me). He is hounded by a white man (or two) with truly dubious or evil intentions that he can't quite decipher. Until it really gets out of his control.
The book is here is by the much lauded author Walter Mosley, and I only discovered this today (I saw them movie innocently). And I've read one or two things by Mosley and actually found the same problem as the movie: lots of tropes and worn out problems approached in the same old way. Except with black characters.
Now this may be naive, but I think in fact the world of urban Blacks and their crime worlds in mid-Century America is really really ripe for some serious fictional writing. Something without myth making. There must be a black Bogart or Mitchum type out there for those inclined. There's another problem, though, looking back and wishing we had better movies about certain things than we did. Maybe that's just the way it was, and we need new movies about new things, not re-hashed themes that only half make up for what might have been. Or not. We weren't there, and we never can be.
So all good intentions aside, give this movie a skeptical look. It's well enough made and has some tightly made moments, but as a whole it flounders and lacks one of the basics—originality.
I wanted to like this movie. A good friend pressed it forward as a belated view of the black noir experience, and there was such truth that the urban black world hadn't seen any attention in the classic noir days (post-War) I had to watch it.
But this is more belated than anything. It's loaded with clichés without really moving them anywhere new (and a stale cliché is really deadening). The director AND screenwriter, Carl Franklin, is relatively untested—he's done a bunch of t.v. stuff, an African-American with talent as an a actor but a little stretched here, I think. The star does his best to hold it together, none other than Denzel Washington, but in fact even he is following old patterns a bit listlessly. This is really clear when a truly brilliant actor arrives on the scene—Don Cheadle—and in his moments there is finally a rising up and synthesis of intentions.
The plot is almost a given—a detective on the outs faces a terrible crime, and a mysterious woman (call her a femme fatale if you want, but she's too plastic to work for me). He is hounded by a white man (or two) with truly dubious or evil intentions that he can't quite decipher. Until it really gets out of his control.
The book is here is by the much lauded author Walter Mosley, and I only discovered this today (I saw them movie innocently). And I've read one or two things by Mosley and actually found the same problem as the movie: lots of tropes and worn out problems approached in the same old way. Except with black characters.
Now this may be naive, but I think in fact the world of urban Blacks and their crime worlds in mid-Century America is really really ripe for some serious fictional writing. Something without myth making. There must be a black Bogart or Mitchum type out there for those inclined. There's another problem, though, looking back and wishing we had better movies about certain things than we did. Maybe that's just the way it was, and we need new movies about new things, not re-hashed themes that only half make up for what might have been. Or not. We weren't there, and we never can be.
So all good intentions aside, give this movie a skeptical look. It's well enough made and has some tightly made moments, but as a whole it flounders and lacks one of the basics—originality.