"Bulletproof
Heart" 1996. Anthony LaPaglia stars as a mob hit man, Peter Boyle as his
contractor, Matt Craven as his drooling sidekick, Mimi Rogers as his mark.
Very
stripped down movie. Only (roughly) eight people have any kind of speaking
parts. Only four sets.
A
noir, of course. You know when you pick up a movie like this, just from looking
at the box, even if you couldn't read the blurbs, that it's a noir. He, very
unsmiling, has got his black hair slicked back; sultry she is in a low-cut
sequined dress; the spotlight is on his big, shiny gun.
It
is a B movie. One feature that separates B movies from A's is editing. Someone
needed to step in and arrest scenes that went more or less like this: "You
have to kill her." "I don't want to kill her." "You have to
kill her." "I don't want to kill her."
And
someone needed to snip bits where the movie tells rather than shows. LaPaglia
is reduced to verbally explaining that he is an amoral hit man, after the movie
has already sufficiently shown that he is an amoral hit man. An A movie would
have just shown him being an amoral hit man, and skipped the didactic speech
explaining what the viewer has just seen.
The
direction was thoroughly flatfooted. Director Malone seems to hate
three-dimensional space. Actors were placed within it the way figures are
placed on ancient altar triptychs. They are in the center of a rectangular
frame; they occupy three quarters of the screen; and they are shown full front.
Snore. And I never got a sense of any space any character occupied other than
that necessary to create the rectangular frame around that rigid composition.
Having
said all that, I've gotta say, this movie wrecked me. I cried. I was
tremendously moved. I kept thinking of Noel Coward's famous line,
"Extraordinary how potent cheap music is." There were two hit men,
and I identified with – and actually pitied – both of them.
LaPaglia
has to kill Mimi Rogers. He arrives at her apartment and a sexual game right
out of a Strindberg play begins. Who has the power? Who is afraid of whom? Who
is killing whom? Who is resurrecting whom? This all sucked me in. It had
genuine tension. Neither overplayed, but you could see the shifts on LaPaglia's
face, from amoral hit man to possible prey animal to something entirely other.
I
was a bit put off by Mimi Rogers' acting at first. When she wanted to emote,
her eyebrows began to jerk and quiver as if they were caterpillars being
directed by an offstage wild animal trainer. But she grew on me.
She
seduces him. The director did handle the intimate scenes well. If I said I came
three times, would that turn this review into something other than an
intellectual discussion of a movie? Not knowing the answer to that, I won't say
it.
La
Paglia and Rogers develop fantastic chemistry. It seems to grow, in a real way,
out of their peculiar situation.
La
Paglia is given a few chances to deliver the kind of witty and surprising
speeches hit men deliver in gangster film noir. They are surprising, of course,
because you have this totally exotic creature, a hit man, speaking about
banalities we all share, like the boredom that sometimes comes with doing the
same work day after day, and surprising because they offer a chance for
identification with such an exotic, condemned creature, and surprising because
you begin to identify, to see the world through his eyes, "Oh, yeah, if I look
at it that way, being a hit man makes perfect sense!" to see how his world
and your world aren't so different.
And
surprising because you begin to see how his morality could be superior to that
of someone who has a more conventionally valorized way of making a living – Mimi
Roger's psychiatrist, for example, is shown to be a real sleaze -- and even murderer
-- in comparison to LaPaglia.
Rogers
and La Paglia begin a dialogue on the worth of human life. And, I gotta tell
ya, for all the guns and the really good sex, that's what got me. These
dialogues and scenes aroused in me confrontations with my own thoughts and
feelings about life, death, murder, suicide, love, the human capacity for
regeneration, faith, hope, investment, what we expect / need from people we
love … what we need / expect from film noir – a very important question !!! I
don't wanna give too much away, here.
There
is a genuinely, darkly funny moment when Mimi Rogers shrugs and says,
"Men." You have to see the movie, and you'll know what I mean.
This
is exactly the kind of movie I think of when I think of people who walk out of
movies and drive me crazy by saying something like, "Hey, that was nice. Wanna
go get something to eat?" and more or less abort any conversation about
the movie. If a date said that to me after this movie, I'd have to be
physically restrained. This is the kind of movie I'd have to talk about
afterwards. Really, this may sound sacrilegious, but it's the kind of movie
that leaves me with a feeling close to reverence – like, after seeing it, I
need to inhabit a liminal zone before I segue back into real life.
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