The cable guide summary was misleading -- "Two undercover cops become lovers and addicted to dope and danger." Look out -- action movie ahead, right? Righteous cops seek out Gothic underworld figures. Motorcycle chases. Exploding heads. Vicious beatings. The shoot out in the automobile graveyard. The final vindication with the hero's arm in a sling. But no. It's a mature movie. Above all, the couple don't get hooked on danger. On the contrary, they're scared to death of it.
Jason Patric and Jennifer Jason Leigh are two narcs who must be part of the drug world they inhabit and yet retain their identities as cops. In a way they're marginal people, like shop foremen or upper-echelon clerks -- no longer just workers, yet not part of management either. Or like cultural anthropologists, for that matter, participant observers, of which I was one. Two of us were studying psychedelic drug use in New York way back when and were doing on-site observation at a party where everyone else was getting stoned. The dope turned my hosts paranoid and they accused us of being narcs. My partner and I agreed that I would partake of the illicit substance -- just a hit or two to reassure our subjects -- and my partner would not. It reflected really poor judgment on my part. (How long is the statue of limitations in effect, again?) But watching this movie, I could understand pretty much exactly where these two narcs were coming from. In their case, life and death were involved. If you don't participate, you don't do your job. If you do, you're breaking the law. If one side finds you out, you're spanked. If the other side finds you out, you're spanked.
What's important in a movie like this are the performances and they're quite good. Not just Patric and Leigh, but even the smaller parts. I was pleasantly surprised by the direction as well. Let me see. The producer is Richard Zanuck. The director is Lili Fini Zanuck. When you see a combination of names like those with statuses like those, you have to suspect nepotism. But, nepotism or no, the direction is unhurried, dark, humorless and very effective, the subdued equal of one of Sidney Lumet's stories of squealing cops in New York.
The photography is outstanding, its colors drawn from the cool end of the spectrum. The music is by Eric Clapton and he does a great riff on Texas Rock, though we still hear his vibrating chords through the cow flops.
It isn't a happy movie. But it's unusually well done.
Jason Patric and Jennifer Jason Leigh are two narcs who must be part of the drug world they inhabit and yet retain their identities as cops. In a way they're marginal people, like shop foremen or upper-echelon clerks -- no longer just workers, yet not part of management either. Or like cultural anthropologists, for that matter, participant observers, of which I was one. Two of us were studying psychedelic drug use in New York way back when and were doing on-site observation at a party where everyone else was getting stoned. The dope turned my hosts paranoid and they accused us of being narcs. My partner and I agreed that I would partake of the illicit substance -- just a hit or two to reassure our subjects -- and my partner would not. It reflected really poor judgment on my part. (How long is the statue of limitations in effect, again?) But watching this movie, I could understand pretty much exactly where these two narcs were coming from. In their case, life and death were involved. If you don't participate, you don't do your job. If you do, you're breaking the law. If one side finds you out, you're spanked. If the other side finds you out, you're spanked.
What's important in a movie like this are the performances and they're quite good. Not just Patric and Leigh, but even the smaller parts. I was pleasantly surprised by the direction as well. Let me see. The producer is Richard Zanuck. The director is Lili Fini Zanuck. When you see a combination of names like those with statuses like those, you have to suspect nepotism. But, nepotism or no, the direction is unhurried, dark, humorless and very effective, the subdued equal of one of Sidney Lumet's stories of squealing cops in New York.
The photography is outstanding, its colors drawn from the cool end of the spectrum. The music is by Eric Clapton and he does a great riff on Texas Rock, though we still hear his vibrating chords through the cow flops.
It isn't a happy movie. But it's unusually well done.