Review of Black Dahlia (2006) by Justin M — 02 Jun 2009

I don't even know where to begin.

A throw-back to 40s classicism, De Palma's latest doesn't try to bring modern sensibilities to noir themes, a la Hanson's L.A. Confidential. No, the Dahlia is much more focussed on actually being from the 40s: the script, the score, the sets, the acting. And thus, I'm torn. It's as if the parts of the movie that don't work are almost bad on purpose, the painfully wooden acting a tacit of the style. That's not really a viable excuse, but I don't know how else to explain it, as what works here works so well it's simply baffling the movie could be so muddled and split on its own identity. There's too much side-action here, with some stupid crap about boxing and far too many threads based on forgettable characters we see or hear about once and are expected to remember vividly more than an hour later.

What works is the actual police story: the movie finally clicks into gear for the final act, when Hartnett begins to really act like a detective. It's compelling fun, but it's far too late. Earlier, when he and Eckhart are working cases and investigating the Dahlia murder, there's enough gravity and intrigue to build a movie off of. Unfortunately, the script would rather do other things.

Performance-wise, it's a rather mixed bag. Hartnett's fit with the material seems to swing from scene to scene. He's perfect in places, but awkward in others, and some of his narration is flat-out terrible. Eckhart does better with his limited screen-time (for the most part), but the script revs him up too often to serve no purpose, and it starts to become a one-note performance, lacking the character dimensions of Crowe's Bud White in Confidential -- this is more a fault of weak writing than anything, and I don't mean to fault him for it, but it did start to get grating. Johansson is palpable, and she certainly looks the part, but is of such little consequence to the film that it really doesn't matter what kind of performance she turns in. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for Hilary Swank, who's given a vital role and fumbles it horribly. It's a bad performance, but nowhere near as bad as Fiona Shaw, who, as Swank's mother, does her damnedest to ruin the picture entirely. The one bright spot is Mia Kirshner, whose Elizabeth Short, the Dahlia herself, manages to steal the film entirely through flashback and audition reels. It's honest and endearing and brutally sad all at once. Terrific stuff. She seems like she's acting in a different movie -- you know, one that actually focuses on the Dahlia murder.

I had high hopes for this movie. It was a chance for De Palma to redeem himself, working in the genre through which he made his name. I'm a sucker for noir, and aesthetically speaking, the casting was perfect: people with the old Hollywood look playing in an old Hollywood movie (Eckhart and Johansson especially just look...classic). L.A. Confidential is my favourite film of all time, and both are based on James Ellroy novels. It took me a long while to decide whether I liked the movie or not, which never bodes well. In the end, there are a number of positives to take out of the viewing experience -- just not enough. The camera work is sharp, but a number of the sets look like cheap back lots.

Ultimately, a disappointment. What a shame.