Retro Review: L.A. Confidential (1997)

A good noir always acts as an indictment of justice. Good noirs feature bad men trying to break good in a system that is stacked agains them. In a system that often caused them to break bad in the first place. That struggle, of a bad man trying, desperately, to do one last good thing, comes chock full of storytelling potential.

By that metric, Curtis Hanson's epic L.A. Confidential (1997) is "good noir."

I've read the book (and others by James Ellroy) and can say, definitively, that screenwriters Brian Helgeland and Curtis Hanson did the Lord's work in adapting it for the screen. It is distilled in all the right places, while keeping its spirit and soul intact.

This review is not a review so much as it is a love letter to one of my favorites of the genre.

Summary:

Three disparate cops begin to unspool a vast conspiracy in 1950s Los Angeles. The case will challenge them to be better men then they are. The case will take everything they have. Nothing will ever be the same, except, somehow, that it will be: This is the city of angels, after all, and you don't have wings, boy-o.

Pros:

One Becomes Three: In L.A. Confidential, the prototypical noir hero gets split into three characters: the brutish enforcer, the social climber, and the jaded Narco detective. Most noir stories bundle all of these aspects into one character, but L.A. Confidential is a sprawling epic, and the decision to keep these characters separate, who all hate each other for various reasons, is a wise call. We get to see the system from three perspectives, and it really reinforces the idea that "justice" is, in many instances, just a word we use to make ourselves feel better. The LAPD of this movie is a hotbed of corruption and co-opted monsters-fighting-monsters. Sometimes they get it right, but, often, they get it grievously wrong. Through the eyes of Edmond Exley, Jack Vincennes, and Bud White we get to experience the tectonic political machinations of men in power, the petty corruption of cops who orchestrate their own newspaper-worthy arrests, and the men who use the badge as an outlet, and an excuse, for their own violence and brokenness. Guy Pearce, Kevin Spacey, and Russel Crowe are cast perfectly. Each actor slips into their role with comfort and authenticity. You hate them, every one, but you come to care for them by the film's end. They are our bad men breaking good. They are our sniveling political ladder climbers. They are our bribe-palming cynics. They are the rage-filled avenging angels who treat women little-better than the devils they take so much pleasure in destroying. They are the noir holy trinity, and it has rarely been done this good before or since.

Confidently Crafted: Hanson is not a director with auteurish flare. His shots are quietly well-composed, excellently balanced and lovingly crafted, without flying in your face with "look-at-me tricks" (not that I mind those). Hanson and cinematographer Dante Spinotti have crafted a neo-noir that captures the spirit of the old Hollywood classic, while imbuing with with a hardened 90s edge. The camera stays largely static, until our detectives roll up to a crime scene. Then it moves. It pans, it sweeps and it tracks. The juxtaposition of stillness and motion help ratchet up the sense of urgency and tension of a police officer entering an unknown fray. Hanson knows how to pack his frame with actors without making it feel crowded: he is a master of using foreground, middleground and background to establish depth and focus. This is no Wes Anderson film, but, if you look, you will see that it is just as confidently, and competently, crafted.

Old Hollywood Sound: Jerry Goldsmith's score is iconic. It rumbles and roars like an old Hollywood classic, and it slithers and with menace. It is a goddamned shame that this movie came out at the same time as Titanic. The licensed soundtrack is stuffed with gems, too. Goldsmith's score weaves around and embraces those licensed needle drops and compliments the story at every turn. This movie sounds every bit as good as it looks.

The Art of the Suit: One of my favorite bits to obsess over is how the film uses Ruth Myers' costumes designs to help establish character. You'll notice that most of the rank and file detectives wear the same shitty suits, or the monochrome beat-cop uniform. Bud is adorned in muddy browns, which reflects his complicated morality. Exley is draped in classy woven greys, with a touch of regal purple on his tie: he is a climber, and needs to display himself whenever he is around. Vincennes swims in over-large suits of gaudy cream and white: he's as much entertainer as he is officer of the peace. Dudley is decked, like Bud, in earthy browns and muddy greys: he's the classic ends-justify-any-means type. The Chief is in strict black and white: all business. DA Loew is in an inky, regal purple power suit: he is LA royalty and untouchable. I will make special mention of Exley's glasses: he wears a pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses, which he is constantly advised to "get rid of." His glasses are his halo. He takes them off when he makes power moves. He puts them on when the cameras are ready, or when he throws himself into actual police work. They symbolize his need to do good. And, as the film wears on, they lose their sheen, becoming dull and dirty by movie's end. Am I reading too much into this? Imbuing a costume piece with too much meaning and import? Maybe, but then, that's what's fun about talking about movies: head down the rabbit hole with me. My wife and I had a ball playing with the symbolism of the suits and the glasses throughout the film. And you can, too!

Complicated Justice: In a world where we champion the fight against criminality, L.A. Confidential posits an interesting perspective: anyone is a criminal if you make it look that way. Laws are wielded against the weak and form the armor of the powerful. Canny power players abuse the public's desire for justice to craft narratives that suit their ascension. Do the detectives in this film "do good?" Sure, but they also do so much casual evil that the line becomes incredibly blurred. This film is uncompromising: every character is tarnished in some way, but they also shine in others. "Good guys" and "bad guys?" This film has no time for such petty distinctions. That's one of the things that always draws me back to noir.

Hardboiled: Helgeland and Hanson's script is a thing of beauty. The dialogue captures Ellroy's grit, and Old Hollywood's kitsch, but manages to avoid cheese. This movie is that beautiful meeting-place of excellent writing and pitch-perfect casting. Between those two things, the story breathes and lives in phenomenal fashion.

Shoot Out: The final shoot out at The Victory Motel is incredible. The cops reload their guns constantly (a rarity in Hollywood action), utilize their surroundings tactfully (by covering the windows, using cover, and working in tandem), and believably take on a larger, coordinated force. Moonlight streams through the walls in bullet-hole shafts and the men become slathered in dirt and grime. It is a beautifully realized action set piece. What is often an action movie cliche becomes a wonderful culminating point of catharsis for the characters involved.

Location Location Location: The film sports some really beautiful locations. We get tired late-night cafes, seedy neon-soaked bars, stately police headquarters, run-down remnants of the California dream, and elegant Hollywood-elite homes nestled in the hills. The viewer is transported to the time and place of this film. The world is establishes is carefully crafted and lovingly rendered.

Cons:

The only bad thing I have to say about this film is that it isn't more famous than it is. It is a verifiable classic of the genre and an accomplishment of American cinema. Have you seen it yet? You should.

In Conclusion:

I love this movie. I have returned to it a few times, and love it every time that I do.

Should You Watch It?

Absolutely, without reservation.

Miscellany:

- The movie was nominated for nine Academy Awards. It won two: Best Supporting Actress (Kim Basinger) and Best Adapted Screenplay (Helgeland and Hanson). It lost all of its other categories to Titanic: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing, Best Original Score and Best Sound Mixing.
- Basinger turned down the role of Lynn Bracken three times.
- Helgeland and Hanson worked on the script for two years, crafting seven drafts, before submitting it to James Ellroy for his blessing. Ellroy, who long thought that none of his novels could be filmed, loved the script, and loves the film.
- Russel Crowe was told, by James Ellroy, that Bud White does not drink. During the filming of the movie, Crowe did not imbibe any alcohol, and described it as the most painful period of his life.
- The Victory Motel is the only constructed set used in the entire film.