Black Dahlia

Have you ever been with a master storyteller who is hot? I mean in person. Its an absolutely captivating thing, watching the craft of captivating you. Its a worthy experience, even when the story isn't good. In fact, its even better when they story isn't good. You might wonder for a while why such a talented teller would choose the material she has, but will fade as you fall under spell of the storyteller, undistracted by the story. It you are lucky, she'll be a hand dancer and you will simply allow your soul to move with the undermusic.

dePalma never bothers me when he chooses bad actors, stories and such. Its just not relevant to what he has to offer, and in fact sometimes I'm thankful that the story itself doesn't get in the way. "Mission to Mars" was rewarmed tacos, but the fact that it was served by a metaphoric, genuine Spanish grandmother from her own hands was all that mattered.

About 22 minutes into this there is a wonderful crane shot, probably done without artificial assistance, beginning five minutes which is the heart of the overly complex story. It sets up two apparently unrelated threads in the story that interweave from this point. It is of the front of a building where later there will be a shooting, moves up and over the building to look at a vacant lot behind where we see a woman making a gruesome discovery. She runs to the street alongside the building where we see the car of our two cops coming to park in front and engage in a shooting. We move in front of the car to a bicyclist, who plays no role in the story. He brings us to a couple walking down the sidewalk approaching the front of the building where they will encounter our cops. We come down to street height and listen in on their conversation.

Its masterful. Even if you think everything that follows is a mess, its a glorious mess made glorious by our setting of the knitting needles.

This, my friends, is what noir is about these days: establishing an eye of god who both is us and who perturbs nature to suit conventions of coincidence in storytelling.

But there's another joy here too. The story — no surprise — features a film within the film. Its the whole story, there, with elements of that internal film overlapping the main story in three or four significant ways. The star of this inner film, who also is our bisected victim is a character played by Mia Kirshner. She's so much more alive and real than anyone else in the main story, I can only assume it was deliberate and a truly thrilling risk. If you follow film, you'll know her very similar and hugely complex role in "Exotica," a landmark film.

Two major experiences in a film! Of course its worth watching!

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

I was disappointed in this film mainly because I love James Elroy's books and found that this film did not do it justice. The characters in the film became stereotypes or cardboard 40's characters. Scarlett Johannsen looked like a young Lana Turner on tranquilizers.........very little emotion, so much mumbling.............poor Hilary Swank was just too distracting in her black wig trying to be a 40's vamp ...........I guess we are not accustomed to seeing her that way and she evidently does not do well in sexy, seductive roles............Josh Hartnett did pretty well.........although the constant taking off of clothing of his different ladies seemed a bit tiresome......if I would have had this on video I would have fast forwarded the constant "clothes removal" scenes. James Ellroy also wrote LA Confidential and that was a masterpiece on film.........but of course, the actors were Russell Crowe, Kevin Spacey, Danny Divito, and many very well seasoned actors with a far above average script. Sorry to say that this film is not academy award material as LA Confidential was................Ellroy's stories can be told on film with good writing, competent acting, good casting, good screenplay and continuity. This was not present in The Black Dahlia. Actually, the girl who played The Black Dahlia was the most sensitive and sympathetic and portrayed her character excellently.

De Palma's staged, theatrical style has always felt like an in-joke: an expressive homage (or sometimes a slap in the face) to the conventions of cinema. And in the case of his high- energy thrillers, the joke is funny and damned entertaining. But in the case of his dramas, De Palma constantly walks a thin line between evocative melodrama and camp (The wonderful "Carlito's Way," in my opinion, is the exception). And "The Black Dahlia" often steps over that line.

With a steady build-up of noir conventions, the film hearkens to the expressionistic film and acting styles of the 40's -- a style which can induce giggles in audiences raised on irony. And I can count a few musical swells, flamboyant acting choices and dramatic fade-outs which caused unwanted comic relief. Or did it? If there's one thing De Palma loves more than entertaining his audience, it's confounding them. How else do you explain the two-hour joke that was "Raising Cain"? (Although I, for one, found that particular joke damned funny).

You watch "Dahlia" with the distinct impression that De Palma is enjoying every minute of it. He's copying Wilder, Welles and, you guessed it, Hitchcock -- and he's having a blast doing it. So when Josh Hartnett's character pulls a full dinner setting (including the turkey) off a table and throws Scarlett Johansson down lustfully upon it, should we also smile and remember "Double Indemnity"? I guess it would help if you've seen "Double Indemnity."

That said, the film's biggest flaw is that it smiles at itself for so long that it leaves little time to wrap up the plot. The onslaught of last-reel revelations seems to exist only to give the actors more opportunity to relish in the delicious mood De Palma has created. We never really cared about the plot in the first place because De Palma didn't care about it either. He's more interested in the shadows, the thrills, the drama, the lurking killers, swelling music, lusty confrontations and blood splatters. And the plot points get lost somewhere in the mix. So who can blame us for glazing over when Hartnett finally starts to care about the mysteries rather than just being mystified by them? De Palma has painted such an odd, exciting picture (even when it turns to camp) that the audience would rather keep watching the elaborate set-ups than sit through the convoluted solutions.

But then again, what good is a joke without a satisfying punch line?

Fictional movie based on a real unsolved Hollywood murder in the 1940s. The mutilated body of Elizabeth Short (Mia Kirschner) is found in an empty lot. Officer Dwight Bleichert (Josh Harnett) and Sgt. Leland Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart) are assigned to the case. Blanchard becomes obsessed with the case causing troubles with his girlfriend Kay Lake (Scarlett Johansson). She then falls for Bleichert. Then there are more murders and lesbians and incest are thrown in...

The plot is a little too convoluted but so was the book (by Jack Ellroy). To be totally honest I can't understand why this is getting blasted by the critics. It's no masterpiece but it's 100 times better than director Brian DePalma's last film (2002's terrible "Femme Fatale") and probably his best work since 1996's "Mission Impossible". The 1940s setting is beautifully captured with clothes and settings--this film really looks great. DePalma once again gives us some incredible visual sequences--one murder is downright terrifying and one of the best things he's done in years. Also the plot, while involved, does reach a logical, satisfying conclusion. However the film isn't perfect.

There's a lesbian bar here that's really overdone. It's beautiful, with a ridiculously elaborate stage show--but in 1940s Hollywood? I don't think so. The acting is all over the place. Eckhart OVERACTS to a ridiculous degree. Hartnett is terrible (no surprise there) but so are Johansson and Hilary Swank (both wonderful actresses). It seems like Harnett's presence bring them down to his level of non acting. Last, and least, is English actress Fiona Lewis who is certainly acting but not in this picture. She overdoes it so much she makes Eckhart look restrained.

So I DID like it but with a tighter story and a better leading man this might have been great. As it stands it's a very good, well-made movie with some questionable acting. I give it a 7.

"For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak/With most miraculous organ." Shakespeare's Hamlet

Murders are messy on the screen and in real life; screenplays about them can be chaotic and disjointed also. Such is the case with Black Dahlia, a film noir from Brian De Palma, a past master of the macabre and the complicated (Blow Out, Body Double). It has all the trappings of a first-rate detective novel (James Ellroy) made into a 1940's thriller with appropriately moody music of the soulful trumpet (Mark Isham), lush production design (Dante Ferretti), and equally impressive costuming (Jenny Beavan), all set in a timelessly seedy Los Angeles.

There's also the conflicted, sometimes dark hero detective (Josh Hartnett) and the sexy, dangerous femme fatale (Hilary Swank), accompanied by the questionably good voluptuary sex bomb (Scarlett Johansson). As if these noir troublemakers were not enough, writer Josh Friedman seemingly adapts Ellroy's every subplot, every story thread, as if each had to be accounted for in the best CSI tradition.

The original novel was based on aspiring actress Elizabeth Short's unsolved grizzly murder in 1947. After a considerably convoluted exposition, with plot lines rarely intersecting in a unified way, the film has the nerve to offer one of the most extensive denouements in film history, could be a half hour, with lengthy explanation of how all those ends tied together. Needless to say, anti climaxes abound in this last segment, leaving not only more confusion about the plot but also a desire to get back to The Big Sleep without sleeping, a state Black Dahlia threatened several times.

Hartnett's detective says, "Nothing stays buried forever. Nothing." I say this weak noir wannabe should stay buried until a bright 22nd century scholar sees its cultural and aesthetic significance. Until then, it's a jumble of plot points resolved in the end by tedious narration. Even Scarlett Johansson's pulchritude couldn't win me, and that's murder in the first degree.