It's usually good when a film is thought-provoking enough to raise questions. It's not so good, however, when the question you're mouthing to your friend during a showing of "The Black Dahlia" is "What is going on?!" It's especially not good when this question is two-fold, at once a comment on the film's convolution ("What is happening?") as well as on its ridiculousness ("Is this really happening?").
And it's really bad when, after the entire audience laughs and applauds at several unintentionally hilarious moments, the last question raised is: Where exactly did "The Black Dahlia" go wrong?
It certainly looked good on paper. It was based off a book by James Ellroy, who also penned the riveting novel-turned-film "L.A. Confidential" (1997). The movie was directed by Brian De Palma (1983's "Scarface" and 1976's "Carrie"), a perfect fit for the material. Here, De Palma has an impressive cast to work with, ranging from two-time Oscar winner Hilary Swank to former teen heartthrob Josh Hartnett. The move was adapted by Josh Friedman, who wrote the screenplay for 2005's "War of the Worlds." (Well, that should have been the first sign.)
The plot is (ostensibly) about the infamously brutal murder of wannabe actress Elizabeth Short, posthumously known as the Black Dahlia. The unsolved mystery of her death, which included such high-profile suspects as Orson Welles, would make a great plot - if only the movie "The Black Dahlia" were at all concerned with that particular plotline. (To be fair, this is also true of Ellroy's novel, which simply uses the scandal as a springboard for a fictional detective story.)
Instead, the film chooses to concentrate on several far less interesting subplots, all of which we're expected to keep track of, since they will inevitably tie together in the end. The movie dives immediately into the story of two boxers-turned-cops, Dwight "Bucky" Bleichert (Josh Hartnett) and Leland "Lee" Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart), who, at some point or another, are embroiled in various subplots concerning a soon-to-be-released bank robber, a murderer who preys on the elderly and a lowlife who Lee kills in a shootout. When not dealing with these dilemmas, they're spending quality time with Lee's girlfriend, Kay Lake (Scarlett Johansson).
Eventually, the two cops are put on the Dahlia case. While Lee goes crazy devoting all of his time to it, Bucky prefers to "research" by exploring lesbian nightclubs and being seduced by Madeleine Linscott (Hilary Swank), who's a dead ringer for the dead girl (or so the film continually tell us, as if repetition somehow makes this true).
When "L.A. Confidential" was adapted, certain storylines were scrapped and characters were meshed. Here, the writer tried to cram in as much of the 300+ page novel as possible. While this might please purists, it wasn't the wisest choice. There are so many subplots and names to remember that if you miss even five seconds of Hartnett's mumbled voiceover, you'll likely leave the theater confused. The rushed revelations in the end are far from masterful twists, because they involve minor characters that we hardly remember and don't care about. The audience is left feeling wholly unsatisfied.
However, the film does deliver satisfaction in the set and costume, even if the symbolism of the color choices is extremely heavy-handed. On the whole, the atmosphere has the distinct feel of little kids playing dress-up.
Another treat is Mia Kirshner's tragically desperate depiction of Betty Short. It's a shame that her screen time is relegated to five minutes of screen-test footage and a stag film of hers that the detectives watch for research.
Of the leads, Swank is by far the best; her femme fatale is fun to watch. So is the rest of her loony family; the dinner scene with Madeleine's mother (played by Fiona Shaw) is every bit as funny as it's intended to be. However, none of her crazy kindred get much screen time.
Eckhart plays up the clich?© angry cop, but the movie spends little time on the motivation for his intensity, so his outbursts appear almost comical. Hartnett is pretty bland, but surprisingly, he isn't the worst of the bunch. That honor goes to the stiff and unconvincing Johansson. She delivers one line so badly that the audio flashback during which it is replayed is possibly the funniest part in the whole movie (except, perhaps, for a ridiculously corny reference to Lee and Bucky's boxing nicknames: Mr. Fire and Mr. Ice).
The scenes Hartnett and Johansson share are the weakest. The two characters' interactions are sometimes inexplicably awkward and other times ridiculously over-the-top.
Interestingly enough, these adjectives also describe the cinematography, which is chock-full of camera tricks that often fail. One saving grace is a particularly masterful crane shot during which Short's body is discovered. Mostly, though, the self-conscious camera tricks are overly obvious and awkward.
The only thing that's clear in this convoluted movie is that De Palma loves him some film noir; he's constantly drawing from its conventions as well as imitating film masterminds like Hitchcock and Welles. However, in its hammy self-awareness, the film, supposedly a pastiche, becomes a parody.
As the thrilling true-crime mystery that everyone had such high hopes for, this movie receives one star. Had it been marketed as a hilariously campy regurgitation of film noir, it would have received full marks.
