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L.A. CONFIDENTIAL
from page 166
at rite comoteater#
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Good thru Oct. '97
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On a high of lows, Hanson digs
withgrabby hands into the
L.A./Ellroy mother lode, the septic
mud and brassy gold. Since Raymond
Chandler tended to stretch and pad
his stories, over-ripely, you could say
Hanson and Ellroy are caboosing onto
Chandler's train. But Chandler's loyal-
ty to the knight of midnight, the
detective bound to a crisp code of
honordespite drastic odds, only foot-
notes this story, like a codicil to a will.
L.A. Confidential shows how an
old, mannered genre can go for broke
by going baroque (yet still entertain
us; I can see why noir buffs are keen
on the film). Its toss-off romantic end-
ing rings false, because we've been
dragged through so many back alleys
of treachery, soiled hope and brutal
Hudgens and is paid "adviser" to a
"Dragnet"-style TV show. The show is
a lie, yet a lie loved by the pompous
--
_—\
politicos who head the LAPD and
who are keen to spruce up its image
(with officers still dirty but with clean
nails, trim guts and less exposed cor-
ruption).
A sharp cop, a total cynic,
Vincennes feels superior to Bud White
(Crowe), the hardest strong-arm spe-
cialist on the force. Crowe brings
exposed depth to White's sadism,
haunted by his mother's being beaten
to death by his father. He is enraged
by anyone who victimizes women and
falls on them like a gorilla (he's the
ultimate feminist male pig).
Both of those cocky veterans are
offended by the new golden boy, Ed
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Kim Basinger plays a Veronica Lake look-alike in L.A. Confidential.
revenge. Even the sincerity of the most
human performances (by Russell
Crowe and Kim Basinger) cannot rally
the movie from its wallow in nihilism.
Back in the '70s, The Long Goodbye
(from Chandler, via Robert Altman)
and Chinatown (Chandleresque, from
Robert Towne and Roman Polanski)
kissed off the classic L.A. detective
story with graceful sadness. Hanson's
film revels in the fabled '50s corrup-
tion of the city's police force, salivat-
ing over the beefy intrigues and nasty
dealings. It even has a mascot of rot:
Danny DeVito as Sid Hudgens, a
jaunty slimeball who runs an "expose"
magazine and loves sneaking photos
that can ruin people (his arrival is per-
fectly timed for the current love of
paparazzi). Kevin Spacey brings his
purring oiliness to the role of Sgt.
Vincennes, who shovels dirt to
Exley (Guy Pearce), a straight-arrow
model for the new image, whose spec- _
tacles make him seem like a ninny to
all the beefy pros. But Exley is
smarter, tougher than most, and a
master politician. He can suck up to a
boss or make a suspect in a hot seat go
liquid from fear, and the thrust of the
story is how he proves himself a natur-
al, a worthy ally of White and
Vincennes.
Around them, Hanson whirls a
flood of characters, crunching lines
like, "I'd love to give you the lowdown
on Mitchum" or "You know what they
do to kiddie-rapers in Quentin." The
lingo, cars, suits and swanky or cheesy
locales are all in place, like cherished
collectibles. And there is flip use of
music ("Accentuate the Positive") and
old movies (even a clip from that
anthem of innocence Roman Holiday).