Review of Edmond (2006) by Kenny H — 31 May 2007

The first thing David Mamet says after introducing himself in his commentary on this DVD is, "There's Bill Macy going into an elevator. Who goes into an elevator that good? Not anyone that we know." It's the truth. William H. Macy is always good, and often great, but Edmond is practically a one-man show, and it's his unimaginable mastery of this material that single-handedly holds together a film that otherwise would have probably fallen apart. It stands instead as a compelling, disturbing drama thanks to him.

Macy plays the titular character, Edmond Burke, and at first he is not really different than any of the myriad meek, stunted, put-upon men he usually plays. Stuck for years in an unhappy marriage, he announces suddenly to his wife as-a-matter-of-fact that he's leaving. His first stop outside is a bar where Joe Mantegna tells him he needs to get laid, and so begins the first part of Edmond's quest: the search for a cheap blowjob.

Not exactly a glorious beginning for what at first sounds like a familiar set-up (middle-aged white collar white guy realizes he's spent his life doing what he was supposed to do and abandons it for a chance to really live). Which brings me to three points that need to be made: (1) This film is based on a play by David Mamet written in 1982, well before this character became a staple of the American independent film; (2) I guarantee that you have no idea where this film is headed, even if it sounds obvious from the description; and (3) where most films with a comparable character tip-toe around issues like racism, homophobia, and sexual fear & control in thick, silent socks, making light of them behind their backs, Edmond charges into these demons wearing combat boots and armed with machine guns and napalm.

Edmond takes his first really dramatic turn when he fends off and proceeds to brutally maim another man posing as a pimp who attempts to rob him, all the while spewing some of the most vile hate speech imaginable. At this point, all his socially conditioned niceties are demolished and every repressed thought and feeling from throughout his life is brought to the surface in a single explosion. Watching the change in Edmond's character -- in Macy's performance -- is a frightening, seductive, and utterly fascinating experience. From that moment forward, all bets are off.

Unfortunately, I'm afraid I still have to say it's not a great film. For one thing, Mamet was going through some distressing times in 1982, and it becomes clear eventually that Edmond was Mamet's equivalent of yelling "Fuck you!" to society at large. Now, that's not essentially a bad thing, because if there's any writer who can get a lot of mileage out of the phrase "fuck you" it's David Mamet. But what it means is that Edmond is mostly an 80-minute rant, and the language of rants tends to be squarely on-the-nose and reactionary. In other words, characters tend to say exactly what they're feeling, in ways no real person ever would. Sometimes this plays to Mamet's strengths and sometimes it gets the better of him.

Some of the actors also can't hold their own against Macy's performance, notwithstanding very few of them are in more than one scene (actually that's all the more reason for them to leave a strong impression). You'd think Denise Richards could handle six very simple lines in two minutes as little more than a cardboard cut-out, but even that proves too much for her. Mena Suvari also looks lost at sea, and almost seems like she's playing her scene for laughs. And it's cool that David Mamet is happily married now, but really, Rebecca Pigeon needs to disappear from stage and screen forever. She plays Edmond's wife, and she's so annoyingly bad that it's impossible to feel like he's being remotely insensitive when he leaves.

Luckily, many of the other actors are good (and many are Mamet vets). Joe Mantegna is great and leaves exactly the sort of lasting impression his character needs to leave. I also thinking he might have been aping Mamet himself, after hearing the writer's commentary. Julia Stiles completely surprised me with her disturbing vulnerability (she takes to Edmond like a born-again fundamentalist who's just been baptized) and many other parts that amount to little more than cameos are immediately memorable, including an almost unrecognizable George Wendt as a Russian pawn shop clerk and -- because this is a Stuart Gordon film after all -- Jeffrey Combs as a snooty, sleazy hotel attendant.

I was also very impressed with the look of the film. The cinematography by Denis Maloney is really superb, and I can't really explain how he did it, but it actually looks like it was shot in the 80's. This is ostensibly when the film is set, but it almost exists in an alternate universe made up of endless streets of brothels and strip clubs and peep shows and populated entirely by vicious predators and their defenseless prey, like a film noir world after the death of civilization.

If the film ultimately triumphs, it is because of this atmosphere and most especially because of Macy, whose performance, I must say again, is totally outstanding and rapturous and horrific. If the Oscars reflected any sort of quality apart from popularity, there'd be more buzz around his name than anyone else currently being batted about the press. He is so sad and so cheap and so creepy and scary, and yet so alluring and convincing and even sympathetic (which makes him even creepier), he carries the whole film as a painful, mesmerizing journey. Mamet is right: no one goes into an elevator as good as Bill Macy.