Step back to the guilt and self recrimination of the 1940s film noir in a cozy nest of plotting, cyanide and the best friend’s lover. Those subject to nostalgia will love this pot boiler every step of the way
After too many “beautiful people” roles like James Bond, Golden Globe nominee (“Matador,” "Nancy Astor") Pierce Brosnan finally gets to take the gloves off and do some real acting. Dressed up like Fred Mac Murray in Wilder’s potboiler “The Apartment,” Brosnan’s Richard Langley is on a mission. The mission is to save his best friend what may be the biggest mistake of his life.
Of course, mission control loses control and Langley’s autopilot soon guides him in the direction of comely Kay. Can he resist? Do you get double indemnity for accidents? Co-written with director Ira Sachs by Oren Moverman (co-writer of the Dylan fantasy, “I'm Not There”), Sachs admits his love of the 1940s. And who can deny the hysterical optimism of the period? We had won the war. Money was flowing again and there was time to look for adventure, even in the taboos of adultery, and murder.
Kay is played by lovely Rachel McAdams, who is having a torrid affair with seemingly frumpy Harry Allen, a successful businessman in the hustle and bustle of the big city. Allen is played to perfection by Best Supporting Actor Oscar winner Chris Cooper (“Adaptation”—2002), who brings his reserved, Midwest, secret self right out into the audience. You see, Mr. Allen has a very high opinion of himself. He firmly believes that when (not if) he leaves his faithful wife Pat for the youthful and yeasty Kay, Pat will die of a broken heart.
There is only one thing to do. Kill Pat.
The fact is, Pat (Oscar nominated Patricia Clarkson—“Pieces of April”) is ready for it. She appears to be mousey to the point of baiting the trap herself. But she turns out to have a secret life of her own that turns her hubby Harry inside out, when he finds out. Maybe he should kill her for a different reason.
But on the surface, never did anyone see such a vulnerable 50-something spouse. She confesses to Harry that she is terribly sorry about the way their marriage has ended up; since all she wants is sex, all the time. Not the end of the world to most men, this seems a giant turn-off to Harry and he runs off to Kay, apparently a woman of more substance.
Being the intelligent professional he is, Harry goes and finds himself a book on poisons and picks out a good one. Plenty of cyanide and available at photo supply stores. So he buys the poison, has a most delicious moment of guilt and remorse as he signs for it, and proceeds to fill up pat’s Bromo-Seltzer bottle with enough of the stuff to kill a moose.
OK, as a workable murder plan this would stump Colombo for about 30 seconds. But, honestly, it is the last dumb thing that happens in this film. The rest is the best performance by Pierce Brosnan ever (even though he does have to look like Fred Mac Murray for the entire film).
Great cinematography by lenser Peter Deming (award winning photog for Lynch’s spectacular “Mulholland Drive”). He brings out all of the worrisome instability and big-city self-infatuation that has made New York the national icon for compulsive self-gratification.
The movie is set in the most delicious dark and languorous film-noir 1940s style, with some of the shooting apparently using the art deco backgrounds of New York City (Rockefeller Center, Empire State Building?). Lots of night shots in those marvelous old offices of the 1940s, you can practically hear the drunken cheers of office parties from times past. Shirley MacLaine must be somewhere close!
MPAA: Not Rated
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