Review of The Spanish Prisoner (1997) by Jacek S — 15 Apr 2008

The worst thing about Mamet's "The Spanish Prisoner" is that it thinks it's smart. That we will never know what's going to happen next. Who's going to con who and how's the whole thing is going to end. Yes, if at first, I'll agree, we're not telepaths after all. But after the first plot-twist, we really don't want to know anymore.

"The Spanish Prisoner" carries the same problem that Mamet's debut, "House of Games". It simply tries too hard. As if it didn't know that the good thriller always have to consist certain coolness to it so it may hit us with a speed of bullet at the right moment we don't expect it. Remember that scene when Lindsay Crouse almost gets conned for the first time by the poker table by Joe Mantegna and his friends? You saw that coming, don't you? Well, even if you didn't, when it happend you weren't much suprised, did you? The scene was built so self-conciously that even if Roger Rabbit himself came up from Mantegna's hat, I wouldn't be suprised. I would do exactly what I did when a first saw it: I would laughed. Mamet is a pure anti-talent in creating cinematic tension. His sets are staged, actors are staged, hell, every damn move is staged, you can feel it as when you're feeling your head when you're hangover, or when you numb your ass on a bench in a bad high school theater. Or in a bad cinema, for that matter.

Stiffness in "The Spanish Prisoner" is simply overwhelming and the whole plot feels so forced that even such wonderful talents like Campbell Scott or Ben Gazzara can't do anything to make it work for at least couple of minutes to get us back on track. And I don't wish to insult Rebecca Pidgeon here, but, really, why is it that everytime I see her acting on the screen I can't help the thought that her place lays somewhere else, anywhere, but not in front of the camera? One thing is certain: she's not the one who does the cast.