TRUE CRIME (57)

Directed by: Clint Eastwood

Starring: Clint Eastwood, Isaiah Washington, James Woods, Denis Leary

The Pitch: A grizzled old reprobate of a journalist seeks to prove the innocence of a condemned man, hours before he's due to be executed.

Theo Sez: Is there anyone (maybe De Oliveira?) making films as perverse and personal as Clint right now? Holding on to the placid style and lackadaisical pace of MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL is one thing, but trying to apply it to a race-against-time thriller in which tension (supposedly) mounts all the way to a nick-of-time climax takes a very special kind of dementia. The occasional shots of clocks ticking by amid the general sluggishness can only be a joke - not unlike the film itself, a wry missive from Ornery Sumbitch Central, in which Clint casts himself as an ageing Dirty Harry battling the forces of nannyism and political correctness (secondhand smoking, sexual harassment) and, perhaps, the forces of glossiness in today's corporate Hollywood, from the emphasis on youth and speed to the hypocritical focusing on Issues ("shit we make up to give ourselves an excuse to run good stories," as someone puts it). Whether he's also rebelling against plot and structure (or just couldn't be bothered) is unclear, but the movie's obviously doomed as a genre piece - the plotting's incredibly silly, ending with the vital clue (y'know, the one that solves the entire case) suddenly coming to our hero minutes before the deadline, just when all seems lost and he's slumped in a bar Drinking To Forget ; unlike other character-driven mysteries (from THE BIG SLEEP to TWILIGHT), the surface isn't just disposable but actively ridiculous. What's beneath is, however, rather wonderful, marked by a tolerant spirit and disdain for self-importance - from the easy-going take on human frailty to the generous way Clint gives his co-stars (notably Woods in the nothing role of the newspaper editor) moments in the sun, to his own cadaverous, unabashedly pushing-70 appearance, to the way he builds an unflinching argument against capital punishment without any DEAD MAN WALKING portentousness (so much for Issues), to the throwaway stylistic grace-notes (the final phone call taking place offscreen, or the ray of light that 'strikes down' the offensive pastor), to the casual way it all unfolds, unconcerned with wowing an audience. It's about dignity in an undignified world, the innocent man's sole weapon against his tormentors (the prisoner's only triumph lies in refusing to save his skin through false remorse) ; it's an ineptly bad thriller with some treasurable overtones ; I can't in good conscience recommend it - but I did enjoy it.