Sutura

Suture is written and directed by Scott McGehee and David Siegel. It stars Dennis Haysbert, Mel Harris, Sab Shimono, Dina Merrill and Michael Harris. Music is by Cary Berger and cinematography by Greg Gardiner.

Identity is the crisis can't you see - X-Ray Spex 1978

Suture is an unusual film that on the surface hangs its chief premise on a most ridiculous concept. Yet what is most striking about the film's heart and soul is that it embraces a number of staple film noir narrative threads. Photographed in spanking monochrome, and featuring an unnerving musical score, this surreal like play works with a cheeky glint in its eye as it challenges the viewer's perception of the unfurling story.

Wrapped around a suggested agony of identity, Suture revels in films and styles of film making it is influenced by. Name checking them all is folly, but as the amnesia angle blends with surgical reconstruction, and the murder plot betrayal sidles up to the voiceover, other potent pics spring instantly to mind. And yet in a piece heavy on identity, Suture, in spite of its reliance on influences, does have its own identity, very much so.

It's quite a debut from McGehee and Siegel, one that begs the question of why they didn't go on to greater things? Here they have great camera craft, with close ups, overheads and frame blends in action, while there's some striking imagery and noirville shadow play to take in as mood setting accompaniments. It could be argued that much of it is highfalutin, and that the philosophical probing is overkill, but the film remains unique and intriguing, if not as remotely thrilling as one hoped. 7/10

The debut feature of US filmmaker-duo Scott McGehee and David Siegel is a pristine-looking psychological forensics of an individual's confused identity, shot in widescreen black-and-white cinematography, SUTURE has its unmissable neo-noir panache awash but also undeniably undercut by its slight story-telling stratagem.

McGehee-Siegel's conceit is surprising and madcap, the purportedly identical half-brothers Vincent Towers (a dour-looking Harris) and Clay Arling (Haysbert) are diametrically different in their appearances (the racial distinction strikes as a self-aware but caustic jape), which at once impels viewers to suspend our disbelief and blatantly dissociates its scenario from any pretension of realism, as if to declare in its opening: don't trust what you've seen.

Truly, what we see is a rather simple identity-swapping scheme goes amiss, after murdering his minted father, Vincent plots to liquidate Clay, his doppelganger half-brother, whose existence is conveniently sealed from the outside, thus Clay would be the whipping boy passing off as Vincent, guilty and perished, then the real Vincent can return as Clay to claim his munificent inheritance. The plan is seamless a priori, but miraculously Clay survives the car comb and ends up with a disfigured visage and severe amnesia. Treated by Dr. Renee Descartes (Harris) to reconstruct his face, now believing he is Vincent, Clay's memory has to take a longer divagation to recover his true identity under the psychoanalysis of Dr. Max Shinoda (Shimono), who is welded together with the image of Rorschach test and passes wisdom in shrink's parlance by rote, and it goes without saying, the real Vincent will not have Clay usurping his heirdom for too long, danger and myth (for instance, what is the ulterior motive of Vincent's recently widowed mother Alice Jameson, played by an elegantly dressed, seemingly benignant Dina Merrill?) are hovering like dark cumuli, and the film's ending sternly keeps the lid on its barbed irony of Clay's ultimate choice.

In lieu of salting the plot, McGehee-Siegel duo resolves to making the mark of their cinematic style with their puny budget ($900,000). Potentially intensified by the sagacious choice of monochrome, the film emanates a beguiling retro-experimental flair with its punctiliously arranged compositions, high contrasted lighting and shades (inside the post-modern edifice equipped with bed-sheet- covered furniture and unadorned walls functioning as Vincent's clinical abode) and jumpy montages.

Another boon to this glossy debut is Dennis Haysbert, a straight-up leading man material endowed with virility, sensibility and fine fettle, who totally has it in him to rival Denzel Washington's prominent status in Hollywood only if we were living in a world of justice, and SUTURE, at any rate, is the bona-fides of the overlooked standing of McGehee-Siegel's oeuvre.

A few years ago a friend and I were picking out a movie to watch. Since we had seen just about everything we decided to give this movie a try. The film ended up being a huge surprise to us, clever, well shot and nicely paced, with strong acting. This film is overflowing with Hitchcock style themes and also has a 1960s Twilight Zone feel to it. This was also the first time I have seen Dennis Haysbert (24, All State Commercials) in a film and he does a fantastic job. Some of the compositions and the overall cinematography are also handled with skill with some shots being smartly composed. What really made a lasting impression was the way the film handles reality, and the reality that the camera sees. Don't let the silly title and the black and white film stock keep you away from this unique movie.

I caught this film upon it's cinematic release, and thought it to be one of the freshest films for the whole of the 1990s. It was interesting to catch it again recently on BBC2, and find it still stands up well.

The nods to noir and Hitchcock are there for all to see. This partnership finally has another film (U.K release before 31/12/01) due out, and I await it with bated breath.

Brothers Vincent (rich playboy) and Clay (average construction worker) meet up for the first time after their father's funeral and remark on how similar they look. But unknown to Clay, who thinks his life is taking a turn for the better, Vince is actually plotting to kill him with a car bomb and pass the corpse off as his own, planning to start a new life elsewhere with his father's inheritance.

Before the script was even written, those involved were looking into identity, paranoia and amnesia, and drew strong influences from Hiroshi Teshigahara's "The Face of Another", "Seconds" and "Manchurian Candidate", among others. (One of the writer-directors almost pursued a PhD in Japanese film, actually.) Mix that in with the tropes and cinematography of film noir, and you have the birth of "Suture", a minor masterpiece that anticipates such films as "Memento" (which unfortunately have overshadowed this).

Being an independent film, the budget was low, and the production ironically benefited from the recent S&L crisis and scandals. Shooting in Phoenix, they found some buildings closed down, including a bank that became Vincent's palatial estate. This was fortuitous, as the space works perfectly (I would never have known it wasn't an actual mansion.) Other corners were cut in more clever ways... watch close to see how they afforded blowing up a car -- they use an almost Troma-esque maneuver.

There seems to be a deeper message in the writing, with an obvious nod to Descartes, and a psychiatrist who seems overly reliant on quoting Freud. I am not sure what I missed. But you have to love the brilliance of the casting. Maybe I am a little bit daft, but it took me forever to get past the two brothers looking identical... while looking nothing alike. That was a purely genius move. (Not surprisingly, producers balked at the film's central "conceit" and their insistence of filming in black and white... this could easily have ruined some careers.)

The Arrow Video release is packed with goodies. Not only does it have the full-length audio commentary (with no less a person than Steven Soderbergh), but we have a 30-minute behind-the-scenes series of interviews with just about everyone. We have deleted scenes. And, perhaps best of all, we have "Birds Past", a short film from the directors that has very rarely been seen anywhere. This is a must-own film, and for true film geeks, you will want to listen to the commentary: there is as much discussion about this film as there is about film-making in general, with plenty of stories about "sex, lies and videotape", Terrance Malick, and more.