Clay Pigeons (1998) Vince Vaughn (Lester Long), Janeane Garofalo (Dale Shelby), Joaquin Phoenix (Clay Bidwell), Scott Wilson (Sheriff Mooney), Georgina Cates (Amanda), Phil Morris (Reynard), Vince Vieluf (Deputy Barney), Nikki Arlyn (Gloria), Monica Moench (Kimberly), Joseph D. Reitman (Glen), Gregory Sporleder (Earl). Music by John Lurie. Cinematography by Eric Edwards. Produced by Ridley Scott, Chris Zarpas. Screenplay by Matt Healy. Directed by David Dobkin. 104 minutes. Rated R, 3 stars (out of five stars)
Review by Ed Johnson-Ott, NUVO Newsweekly www.nuvo-online.com Archive reviews at http://us.imdb.com/M/reviews_by?Edward+Johnson-ott To receive reviews by e-mail at no charge, send subscription requests to pbbp24a@prodigy.com
When trying to determine how best to describe "Clay Pigeons," the image of a Dennis Miller performance comes to mind. Generally, Miller makes his stage entrance displaying supreme confidence, half ambling and half swaggering his way to the microphone. Then he lets rip with a torrent of dazzling verbal creativity. Adroitly juggling observations and indictments, with accents from his vast personal warehouse of arcane pop references, Miller's presentation style announces "I'm smart, hip and right, and so are you, if you're able to keep up with me."
After a few minutes of watching Miller, though, you begin to notice other things. He's extremely mannered, without a hint of spontaneity. He's self satisfied and arrogant. And, beneath his exalted moral righteousness, he's often just as mean as the villains against which he rails so mightily. Typically, Miller ends his rants by saying "Or maybe it's just me," but he's only being facetious, using the catch-phrase as an easy way to wrap up the show. As much as I enjoy Dennis Miller, his performances usually leave me with a bad taste in my mouth.
Which brings us to "Clay Pigeons." This darkly humorous tale about murder in a small Montana town starts off with a knockout punch, daring to take a classic film noir storyline and place it outdoors in bright sunlight. Combining bold camerawork, brazen situations and a terrific soundtrack, the film quickly establishes its stance as smart and hip, aiming for that post-modern cinematic playground occupied by the likes of the Coen brothers.
It all rolls along smoothly for a while, but then you begin to notice things. When a woman gets backhanded early in the story, the filmmakers make sure we understand that she deserved it. Later, a woman gets stabbed to death in a scene filmed so stylishly that the violence seems almost pornographic. Like most noir thrillers, our hero is a hapless type whose poor judgment lands him in a heap of trouble, but these filmmakers clearly have far more affection for the villain than the victims. Ultimately, this mannered, disdainful work rewards viewers with an lazy ending and a bitter aftertaste.
The story begins when Clay Bidwell (Joaquin Phoenix) goes out shooting with his best friend Earl (Gregory Sporleder). In a burst of emotion, Earl angrily informs Clay that he's aware of his friend's ongoing affair with his wife, Amanda (Georgina Cates). Abruptly, Earl turns the gun on himself, intending to exact revenge by framing Clay for his "murder." A stunned Clay disposes of Earl's body and tries to break off contact with Amanda, but the sultry widow, totally unfazed by her husband's death, is determined to continue the affair. When Clay resists her advances and takes up with another woman, he soon finds himself with an additional corpse to dispose of.
In-between fatalities, Clay makes friends with the charismatic Lester Long (Vince Vaughn), a drifter hanging around the sleepy Montana town. They take off for a fishing trip on the lake where Clay dumped corpse number two and, to the ominous strains of "Dueling Banjos" from the film "Deliverance," a body rises from the murky depths. Enter the FBI, led by bright-eyed, sharp-tongued agent Dale Shelby (Janeane Garofalo), on the trail of a serial killer who specializes in women. Suddenly, Clay finds himself the prime suspect in a string of murders.
In addition to its clever presentation style, "Clay Pigeons" boasts a number of stand-out performances. Vince Vaughn is electric as Lester Long, an imposing figure comfortable even when striding in public wearing only his briefs. Lester is a man who leans in a little too close while talking and relishes being overly familiar with anyone he meets. You'll remember him and his nervous giggle long after leaving the theater.
Janeane Garofalo is wonderful as the caustic, but deeply humane Agent Shelby, brightening the grim proceedings with her understated wit. Phil Morris is effective as her stoic co-worker, a man of few words whose facial expressions more than make up for his relative silence, and Scott Wilson (one of the killers from "In Cold Blood") scores as the laconic Sheriff Mooney. In the lead role, Joaquin Phoenix is adequate, if overly flat in his delivery.
After a great beginning, "Clay Pigeons" grows more forced with each new outlandish twist, as the film's carefully crafted tension slowly unravels. The story eventually sputters to an unsatisfying end with a denouement that feels perfunctory at best.
The bottom line is that sadism and death are punchlines in "Clay Pigeons" and we're expected to play along, else we jeopardize our status as smart, hip filmgoers. While the production offers sharply drawn characters, a powerhouse cast, some great deadpan one-liners, exceptional music and robust visuals, there is an underlying nastiness that becomes increasingly difficult to tolerate as the film goes on. "Clay Pigeons" is hip at the expense of its humanity, and that's more nihilism than I'm willing to embrace.
© 1998 Ed Johnson-Ott
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