Bringing Out the Dead (1999)

reviewed by
Mark O'Hara


Bringing Out the Dead (1999)
A Film Review Essay by Mark O'Hara

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Martin Scorcese has never been one to avoid seamy subjects. Like many of his other films, "Bringing Out the Dead" depicts some of the clearest glances we have seen of the grit and grief of life. It's also very artfully made, replete with gutsy risks you wouldn't think would come from a veteran filmmaker.

Nicolas Cage plays New York City - Hell's Kitchen, specifically - paramedic Frank Pierce, a man in the advanced stages of burnout. He doesn't eat much of anything, he drinks during his shifts, he tries half-heartedly to get fired. But something gets him out on the dark streets again.

What gives the film its most recognizable structure are the three different partners Pierce rides with on three consecutive days. Each of these coworkers deals with the job in eccentric ways; it's Pierce that seems to be failing to cope successfully. Dark flesh encircles his eyes, which stare out the windows of the ambulance like one witnessing an apocalypse. It's clear the setting - early 1990's New York - has affected him for the worse, as many of the faces roaming the streets take on the aspect of a spectre, a girl who died during Frank's watch. Because he can't get her off his mind, he shows signs of beginning to lose it.

Another unifying aspect is the man revived by Frank and his partner Larry (John Goodman). Mr. Burke had been dead for several moments, but when Frank sees the grief caused by the loss, he appears to redouble his efforts. The result, Burke is taken to Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy, the hospital where bedlam reigns, and kept aggressively on life support. After Frank spends some time with Burke's daughter Mary (Cage's wife Patricia Arquette), he shows sign of an infatuation with her. Attracted by her vulnerability - she's a recovering addict - Frank supports her by being there to listen. Will she be a focal point to cure his blurry lifestyle? Or will the high rates of speed at which Frank travels finally cause an accident?

Martin Scorcese's vision of New York is one of the most fascinating takes in recent years. We see it mostly during the night, the camera going in constricting gyres, the traffic as well as the skyline quickening in time elapse. We witness many of the same sordid scenes we saw Travis Bickle coursing through in "Taxi Driver," steam rising from manholes, hookers and other social desperadoes peopling the periphery. In a small but powerful moment, Larry parks the rig on a pier and catches forty winks, while the insomniac Frank stares from his haunted eyes. Shadows of raindrops on the ambulance windows stain Frank's face like drops of ink, or worse, blood. An instant later another call sends the pair screaming off to try to save another life.

It's Scorcese's voice we hear as one of the dispatchers, his words crisp and witty; the other dispatcher is Queen Latifah, a cleverly done piece of voice acting done during radio intercourse with Frank's second partner Marcus (Ving Rhames).

Acting in the film is outstanding. Cage has perfected a type of spiritual malaise, his voice as monotonous as his expression. What's amazing is that he pulls it off and keeps our interest. After all Frank Pierce experiences in these fateful three days, we are still sympathetic toward his character.

Patricia Arquette is expertly made up to look like a waif with dyed hair, often unkempt and always delicate. She delivers her lines perhaps more naturally than any other actor in the piece. We believe her when she talks of her love for her estranged and dying father, and we feel sorry for her when she lapses into bad habits.

Ving Rhames as Marcus plays a strange hybrid, a mix of evangelical preacher and honey-talking ladies' man, someone out a story by Flannery O'Connor. Rhames switches moods as fast as the camera switches scenes, and we are spellbound by both. In one crackhouse scene we see a sequence full of tawdriness and redemption, as Rhames takes full advantage of his director's predilection for religious imagery. Look for Irving Rhames as a nominee for Supporting Actor.

John Goodman is also solid as support, his Larry a jaded jerk who worries only about his next meal. He's looking forward to applying for captain, so he can stay in the business but avoid going out on actual runs. Goodman convinces us without much seeming effort - and this is good because this man has a tendency to carry his parts over-the-top. Tom Sizemore deserves a mention as Tom Walls, an unscrupulous paramedic who is not above assaulting his clients. What a remarkable and amoral man he sketches here! Finally, singer Marc Anthony portrays Noel, a repeat visitor to the hellish hospital, a friend of Mary Burke's who manages to bring out the best and worst in Frank.

Martin Scorcese has set himself up as a chronicler of New York, from the days of stuffy conventions ("The Age of Innocence") to the graphic unpleasantness of "Dead." The man deserves a lot of credit for remaining fresh and unconventional in his techniques.

The film is only slightly less dark than Cage's Oscar-winning vehicle "Leaving Las Vegas." At 118 minutes, it seems just a bit too long, though that results from the loosenesss of plot. It's a must-see for serious film fans, especially ones interested in a most American director.


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