TRUE CRIME Reviewed by Jamie Peck
Rating: **1/2 (out of ****) Warner Bros. / 2:07 / 1999 / R (language, sexuality, brief violence) Cast: Clint Eastwood; Isaiah Washington; Denis Leary; Lisa Gay Hamilton; James Woods; Diane Venora; Bernard Hill Director: Clint Eastwood Screenplay: Larry Gross; Paul Brickman; Stephen Schiff
The big crime committed by "True Crime" is one of excess, but it's rarely severe enough to be labeled as wretched. This stately Clint Eastwood thriller suffers from both an overlong running time and eventually overcooked story elements, undoings that have also jumbled recent directorial outings "Absolute Power" and "Midnight in the Garden of Good" and Evil, and even suffers a bit from the Aging Matinee Idol Factor - at 68, Eastwood's self-exuding machismo sometimes comes across like a weird parody of itself, and the actor is way too old to doff his shirt for a sex-aftermath scene. Still, he's in better shape than some, a statement that also rings true for "True Crime."
Those who have seen the coming attraction and are aware of the whole death row storyline know that "True Crime" looks about as promising as "Dead Man Walking" with our man Clint in the Sister Helen Prejean role. But surprise, surprise: Portions of the movie really hit home, even if its ambitions are diametrically opposite to that deep, thoughtful rumination on capital punishment. Dramatic sparks do occasionally fly as Eastwood's Steve Everett, a newspaper reporter sorting through his share of nasty personal problems (most involving a voracious lust for women), maneuvers through a most difficult assignment - to chronicle the last hours of life spent by a convicted killer.
Of course, this being a Clint Eastwood film, the set-up isn't as meditative as it might sound. Everett is handed the article with little prep time, just after the writer slated to take it dies in a sudden car accident, but immediately senses that things aren't quite kosher. So, with less than 24 hours left until the execution, he sets out on an all-out quest to find out what really happened in this seemingly random convenience store murder. Adding fuel to the fire is that the alleged perpetrator (noble Isaiah Washington) maintains his innocence yet has a double-strike criminal record and questionable ties to the victim, only circumstantial evidence exists, and witness testimony is faulty at best.
Can clues and leads overlooked for six years be unearthed in time to save a condemned man who very well might be innocent? Maybe not in the real world, but there's probably a serious dearth of living journalists with Eastwood's rough, squinty-eyed determination - an attribute that serves both his character's plight and his dedication as a filmmaker to deliver the goods. Here, those include a fine attention to detail and a full-fledged sense of humor that often borders on surprising; most of the laughs come from subplots involving the bickering between Everett and his high-strung superior (James Woods). So good is this material that you occasionally wish it were "True Crime"'s main focus.
Too bad most of the other discursions don't gel as well. Much is made of the fact that Everett is fooling around with the wife of his aware section editor (Denis Leary), but this aside provides little more than prolonged manly glaring. Everett's failing marriage is also given generous (and often questionable) coverage, bogging the narrative down further, while random sidetracks involve penitentiary workers on a lunch break, a randy homeless man whose footage seems cut from a completely different movie, and Michael McKean as a intrusive prison chaplain. What the latter is doing here is anybody's guess, especially since his comic talents aren't rewarded with any kind of a payoff.
But as long as "True Crime" sticks to Eastwood's dealings with Washington and/or Woods, it cranks out a fine flow of strong scenes, even when they involve twists and revelations best described as suspension of disbelief-reliant; this must be the first cinematic mystery, for example, to hinge upon the location of a rack of potato chips, while a key clue turns up with "something fishy here" literally _inscribed_ on it elsewhere. Swallow goofiness like this and "True Crime" ranks as serviceable matinee fare, as cool and cozy as it comes. It could be Eastwood's relaxed-as-blue-jeans ardor paired with the overt plot familiarity, but this must be the most comfortable race-against-the-clock scenario ever.
© 1999 Jamie Peck E-mail: jpeck1@gl.umbc.edu Visit The Reel Deal Online: http://www.gl.umbc.edu/~jpeck1/ "There is possibly an audience for this movie, but I have the oddest feeling that on opening night the people in the theater will all be in black and white. See ‘Pleasantville' if you wonder what I mean. In fact, see ‘Pleasantville' anyway." -Roger Ebert on "I'll Be Home for Christmas"
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