Review of Internal Affairs (1990) by Paul Z — 19 Oct 2010

Dennis Peck has so many wives and children by his assorted marriages that he doesn't know what to do other than steal to support them. And, for leisure, seduce other men's wives into extramarital affairs. He may be the most exceedingly debased, and debasing, crooked cop in a congested movie category. His reaction to a departmental investigation is to warn that he'll seduce the wife of head detective Raymond Avilla if he doesn't suppress the case. No doubt, Internal Affairs is a biting, occasionally savage, piece of work. Gere's magnetic as Peck, writer Henry Bean's composition is absorbing, save for the comparatively lockstep finale, and director Mike Figgis, a maker of moody, frequently experimental dramas and thrillers known for his psychological investigation of characters, knows how to turn on a restrained, genuine sensual intensity.

Figgis never lets the tempo decelerate long enough to reveal the narrative's slenderness regardless of, looking back, a less than average quantity of "action." Figgis gets how to latch the viewer without relying on that. The life-and-death game played by the main characters may not be inventive, but few will leave the movie feeling resentful or ungratified. Avilla's emotional intensity, in jeopardy, does not let up, but increases. The emotional and physical stakes for him become more complicated. There's a focus on feelings, relationships and interactions. It's very intense, never melodramatic.

Police movies are an everyday assembly line. Thrillers about unscrupulous cops are no less numerous. Regardless, items of this genre in which there's a compelling histrionic between the protagonist and the antagonist are significantly more exceptional. That's the case here. Peck's a vicious individual with no range of principles and Avilla's a boy scout. As the two cross each other's thresholds, Peck draws on his sociopathic scheming to an unusually and potently affecting degree. The stunning product of his calculating is that he snaps the stone-faced tightrope that keeps Avilla's primordial compulsions dormant. These two end up colliding on Peck's ground, with each horsing around the other as they plummet out of control. Peck's most ferocious swipe is the way he pushes a block between Avilla and his harmless wife.

John Alonzo's cinematography alters the night-time panoramas of Los Angeles into something bleakly alluring. It's a place that purely exists in the movies. That's not to say it's sparkly and cookie-cutter, because it isn't, but it's picturesque in a way that only something exhaustively dishonest and illusory can be. This is the setting through which Peck and Avilla forcefully implement their combat, becoming gradually less concerned about the outside world. And that works to the advantage of the strong performances by Gere and Garcia. They're not pretending or faking, phoning anything in. They're being profoundly candid, more so than what passes for honest behavior in the outside world, the world outside the movies. That's acting! One key development by Figgis and Bean is not to portray Peck right off as a unilaterally nasty human being. In his early scenes, his first impression is a sociable man who cuts corners and throats to lend a hand to those close to him. He is illustrated as a devoted husband and father, a loyal friend, and a respected officer. Sheen after sheen, the luster is removed to expose Peck not only as a good guy gone bad, but as his own personal, one-track target of revenge and salvage of pride.