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Snake Eyes
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BY STEPHANIE ZACHAREK | To say you want more heart from a Brian De Palma movie is to invite incredulousness -- not because you believe he's cold, but because he's made it so clear that he isn't. De Palma's detractors claim that he never had a heart to begin with, that he's interested only in blood and violence, that he kills off characters we care about without batting an eyelash, that he hates women because he sometimes allows them to meet a cruel end. But the audiences who understand De Palma connect with him as a true romantic. When I first saw "Blow Out" several years ago, the hero's inability to save the woman he loved -- and his subsequent breakdown because of it -- took me apart. When I saw "Casualties of War" shortly thereafter, a movie that takes that theme to an even more devastating and far-reaching conclusion, I walked out of the theater with a feeling of almost debilitating despair. Some viewers denounced the movie -- based on a true story, in which a group of American soldiers rape and kill a young Vietnamese woman and then lie about it -- as being misogynistic because it wasn't "about" the woman's pain. But only a fool could claim that De Palma doesn't try to convey the depth of that pain. And maybe it's even more wrenching because he shows it from the point of view of a man who sees what's happening and is helpless to do anything about it. De Palma's best movies are fairy tale/nightmare forays into male anxieties -- fear of not measuring up, of not being able to act when action is called for. The point, for De Palma's heroes, isn't that women need to be protected, it's that they're worth protecting. Even women who claim chivalry is an outmoded value secretly appreciate it when a man holds a door open for them. Or takes a bullet. Maybe that's why, its incredible craftsmanship notwithstanding, "Snake Eyes" left me cold. De Palma's last movie, "Mission: Impossible," had a similarly steely cool sheen to it, but the level of care De Palma took in laying out the intricacies of the story betrayed a certain amount of passion. Information, often conveyed visually, blipped by at photon speed: If you checked out for even an instant, you were likely to miss something crucial to the plot (which may explain why so many viewers -- and critics -- claimed the movie "made no sense"). Craftily shot by Stephen H. Burum, "Snake Eyes" gives you plenty to look at: The opening sequence is a continuous shot that's much longer than most sane filmmakers would dare to attempt, and it's dazzling. And De Palma puts his favorite plotting techniques to good use, telling bits of the story first from one point of view and then another, until, at the end, the real story comes together like a mosaic. (Be sure to stay until the very end of the credits, or you'll miss a wry De Palma detail.) Technically, "Snake Eyes" is artful and admirable, and smart. But you're never asked to invest much in the characters, and by the time you've roused yourself to care, it's too late. Nicolas Cage is a crooked Atlantic City homicide detective who's reunited with his best friend, Navy officer Gary Sinise, who's come from Washington with the secretary of defense to serve as his bodyguard. The secretary and his entourage are in town for a big pow-wow with a munitions manufacturer, but first, they're going to attend a championship boxing match. Just as the fight begins, while Sinise is looking the other way -- he's distracted by a buxom redhead -- and Cage is diverted by a mysterious call on his cell phone, the secretary is shot. A flirty-looking blond in a white suit who has engaged the secretary in conversation (the last words we hear her say to him are "I'm telling you, you're the one who's going to be sorry") narrowly escapes the line of fire and scampers off into the crowd. Cage and Sinise seal off the arena and the gambling/hotel complex it's part of, and begin hunting for what they believe are collaborators in an elaborate assassination scheme that may involve one of the boxers, a notorious Middle Eastern terrorist and a loony-looking audience member. An employee of the munitions company, played with understated charm by Carla Gugino, is also implicated: She's found a serious bug in the major weapon the company is about to roll out and has launched a personal crusade to stop its production. Some of the familiar De Palma themes are here: Moral victories don't come easy; the people you love most just might turn around and kill you. There's even a minor "Is-the-man-up-to-saving-the-woman?" subplot. But Sinise and Cage -- both extraordinary actors -- seem to hold themselves apart from their roles. Sometimes you can see them having fun with screenwriter David Koepp's snap-crackle-pop dialogue, but there isn't enough of that to sustain the movie. Maybe they're just slightly bored: Sinise has played this type of character before, and here we're just waiting around to figure out how we should decipher his shifty-looking lizard eyes. Cage's character, a moony-eyed wiseacre in a Hawaiian shirt and a slubbed-silk jacket, has slightly more depth, but not much. Mostly, he seems to be coasting on his trademark stuff, like making his big baby blues seem to melt on command for the camera -- great, but nothing we haven't seen before. He's best in a smolderingly intense scene with Sinise, when the pair's friendship is put to the test; he captures a mix of bewilderment and anguish that never goes over the top. But the turning point his character reaches in that scene -- the point beyond which he can't be bought -- represents a jarring shift from his carefree flamboyance earlier in the movie. We're not given enough clues as to how that shift comes about. And it's hard to care much for him until you see him being beaten to a stupefied pulp (as with any De Palma movie, there's some brutality that you have to brace yourself for), and that seems like a bit of a cheat on De Palma's part. It's as if we're being bullied into feeling something for him, and De Palma shouldn't have to resort to that. De Palma just doesn't need to make any more technical marvels that are
in some ways pleasurable but ultimately hollow. Without making too
many assumptions about his career choices, I think it's safe to surmise
that after audiences completely ignored -- or, even worse, misread --
"Casualties of War," he must have needed a break from that kind of
emotional intensity. (If he'd never wanted to make another movie again
after "Casualties," I wouldn't have blamed him.) But it seems that at this
point in his career, De Palma could be giving us something with more depth,
and more warmth, than the likes of "Snake Eyes." At the risk of sounding
like yet another woman who's complaining about how a man won't show his
feelings, I'm really hoping that, next time, he opens up as wide as he
already has. If he's ready to talk, maybe there are people out there who
are ready to listen.
Stephanie Zacharek is a regular contributor to Salon. |
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