Review of Jade (1995) by Sean T — 08 Jan 2008

With The Right Pair Of Shoes, A Girl Can Do Anything.

Presumably, no director sets out to make a muddled little movie and William Friedkin probably thought that the finished cut of his film Jade was â??enigmatic,â?? or â??labyrinthine,â?? not convoluted. However, convoluted is what it is. Friedkinâ??s need for abstruseness is completely subverted by Joe Eszterhasâ?? shallow script and further undermined by Friedkinâ??s need to have a psycho-drama with an added dash of action film thrown in for good measure.

It seems that Joe Eszterhasâ?? success with Basic Instinct created an unbridled need in him to rout out the puritanical moral hangover that seems to cling to America like Saran wrap to apple pie. Left unchecked, this compulsion to shock leads to hollow, tedious dialogue that inevitably leans on the obviously sordid nature of a womanâ??s need to be in the driverâ??s seat when it comes to sex. The problem is that while a womanâ??s sexual control, or lack there of, might have been shocking or sordid in 1965 or even 1975, it was not in 1995. The writing makes Trina Gavin, the femme fatale in the film, come across as a very two dimensional caricature. While there is an element of that in all Film Noir, Jade is unforgivably bad and cartoonish. Eszterhas uses Trina as a completely objectified woman who is put on a pedestal for her independent sexuality, but lest the writer completely alienate and scare the male viewer he safely puts Trina back in her gilded cage at the end of the film. The fifteen seconds (that almost earned the film a NC-17 rating) of sexual acrobatics involving Trina, a great pair of stiletto heeled pumps, and an unnamed male accessory seem almost honest and refreshing in comparison with the hour of dull innuendo leading up to it.

I think maybe Friedkin deserves even more of the blame than Eszterhas. He could have seen that the film needed a serious re-write and acted accordingly. Instead he makes things even worse. Like Eszterhasâ?? weakness for shocking sexuality, Friedkin has his achilles heel when it comes to car chases. Apparently in the throws of a late mid-life directing crisis Friedkin felt the need to somehow try to top The French Connection. The low speed car chase through Chinatown was not the way to do it, it did however provide me with three minutes in which to head to the fridge and grab a cold can of fresca and microwave some pizza. At first I was willing to be lenient with the low speed chase. Not only because of the Fresca factor but also because the hit and run that started that particular car chase (one of two in the film) also benefited me by making sure that I wouldnâ??t have to listen to anymore warbling, cheesy dialogue come out of Patrice Jacintoâ??s mouth. How wrong I was. Friedkin apparently didnâ??t think that the brick of a script that Eszterhas had hit the viewer with fully explored all sexual avenues. So why not add a little voyeurism? All two dimensional of course, Friedkin probably mistakenly believed that the still photos and video tapes would be as arty as the opulent interiors, African fertility masks, and the gratuitous use of Stravinskyâ??s â??Rite of Springâ?? as a suggestive, recurring musical theme. I didnâ??t like hearing Patrice (played by Angie Everhart) trill â??Jade really rocked his world,â?? and â??mostly Iâ??m into girlsâ?? the first time, let alone twice.

After all that, do I hate the film? Nope, itâ??s unforgivably bad, but itâ??s a guilty pleasure. Linda Fiorentino is always at least interesting when nude, and Chaz Palimenteri is fabulous as the good-naturedly evil husband. In a pinch it could even be a drinking game movie. Just take a drink (presumably of something much stronger than Fresca) everytime David Carusoâ??s character looks like a hurt puppy, and by the time youâ??re 30 minutes into the film it will be a whole lot more interesting.