Let’s get one thing straight: Having me review a movie written by James Ellroy is patently ridiculous. Whether or not what I have to say is favorable, the fact that I’ve been placed in position to pass judgment on anything the man does is silly. Ellroy is a legendary crime writer, while my only experience with crime writing is that every time I’m paid for writing, it’s probably a crime. That said, as a duly deputized “CFN” movie reviewer, I would be remiss if I ducked out of an assignment … not to mention the inevitable palm striking if I were to drop the ball here. Onward!
Let’s get one thing straight: Having me review a movie written by James Ellroy is patently ridiculous. Whether or not what I have to say is favorable, the fact that I’ve been placed in position to pass judgment on anything the man does is silly. Ellroy is a legendary crime writer, while my only experience with crime writing is that every time I’m paid for writing, it’s probably a crime. That said, as a duly deputized “CFN” movie reviewer, I would be remiss if I ducked out of an assignment … not to mention the inevitable palm striking if I were to drop the ball here. Onward!
Rampart is not a true story – I mention that distinction so you don’t make the same mistake the thirty or so assorted people I sat with in the screening room did. It is a story born from the scandalous activities of the Rampart division of the L.A.P.D., but Ellroy is on record as saying the story is also highly personal, reflecting his crazy experiences with women, and one divorce in particular. That said, I’m hoping there’s not a lot of his personal life in here. I don’t know how you’d have time to write while you were ruining your life in such a spectacular fashion.
Woody Harrelson is “Date Rape” Dave Brown, a 24-year veteran of the L.A.P.D. who earned that nickname by “allegedly” gunning down a serial rapist in cold blood. Now, I’ll get back to the review in a second, but I have to digress here to discuss a dilemma of sorts…
I love the nickname “Date Rape” Dave.
I can’t figure out why. Is it the alliteration? It has to be – just say it out loud: “Date Rape” Dave. It sounds like a Howard Stern Wack Pack member, or maybe a final boss in “Grand Theft Auto.” Maybe adding an alliterative crime makes every name better, like “Murder Mike” or “Hate Crime Hamilton.” Nah, that can’t be it. There’s no appeal in “Raping Rick” or “Embezzlement Ernie.” Is it the three beats? Regardless, I love it, and can’t wait to make a friend named Dave so I can foist it on him for all eternity.
Back to the matter at hand…
As the nickname indicates, Officer Brown isn’t afraid of bending the rules a bit to make an arrest, or secure a confession, or to do anything in his life, really. He’s a burned-out, 25-year vet of the force who hass done things the wrong way for so long he’s convinced himself he’s right. He’s the department brass’ worst type of headache: A former law school student who knows just enough legal bullshit to get himself out of any transgression, and a veteran cop with plenty of friends in high places willing to extricate him from any situation he can’t talk his way out of. His contempt for the people he locks up is surpassed only by his self-righteous assurance that he is free to do whatever the fuck he wants, at all times – the badge as halo, granting him dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the heavens, and every living thing that moves on the earth.
His personal life is not nearly as black and white as his professional one. Brown lives with his two ex-wives (Cynthia Nixon and Anne Heche, sufficiently frazzled and put-upon) who also happen to be sisters. The estrogen fest continues with his two daughters, the youngest, Margaret (Sammy Boyarsky) who still clings to hope that he’ll be Dad, and the oldest, Helen (Brie Larson) who sees Brown for what he is and couldn’t hate him more. Brown pretends the unit is a typical nuclear family, and then heads out to bars to drink and pick up different women almost every night. He’s a man who is dead inside, looking to feel anything anywhere he can, and it shows.
Brown eventually gets caught on video dispensing some Rodney King-type justice in the street, leading to a chain of events in which the department decides to sacrifice him to the gods of public opinion. D.A. Bill Blago (Steve Buscemi in a glorified cameo, but still effortlessly great) needs to show the public that things have changed in the wake of the Rampart scandal, and has no trouble siccing Asst. D.A. Joan Confrey (Sigourney Weaver, whose scenes with Harrelson have the most crackle) on a dinosaur like Brown, who in turn uses every trick he’s learned to try and keep the only job he’s ever known – the only job the monster he’s become could hope to do. His efforts to stay one step ahead of his crumbling circumstances lead to some harrowing choices – choices that only succeed in turning that crumbling into a full-on collapse.
I’m a Woody Harrelson guy, but it’s not fanboy hyperbole when I say that this is his best performance to date. That’s saying a lot after The Messenger, but I think it’s true. He’s in virtually every scene in the movie, and you get to see his world-weary façade chip away little by little until he’s completely exposed. Something about director Owen Moverman brings out the best in Harrelson, which is all the more impressive when you realize that in both The Messenger and Rampart, Harrelson is cast in the role of authority figure. To see the command and power a natural free spirit like Harrelson brings to these roles is to see an actor doing something completely against expectation, and doing it at an extremely high level.
The rest of the cast is strong. In addition to those mentioned, Ben Foster, Ned Beatty, and Robin Wright play pivotal roles, and Ice Cube enters late as an antagonist who pushes Officer Brown even closer to the brink. You’d think the strength of the ensemble would be a plus, but instead it proves to be the film’s major weakness. As strong as Harrelson is, the decision to have him be an ever-present protagonist actually hinders things. The narrative plays out as a series of two-character discussions between Harrelson and whichever character is needed to move the story along in that moment. With a cast this strong, you’d like to see them all pushing one another, bringing each other to greater heights. The best scene in the movie is a three-way discussion between Harrelson, Buscemi, and Weaver, the camera spinning around the room as the dialogue flies back and forth. It’s electric, and its inclusion only serves to bring attention to the fact we’re not getting more moments like it.
The tagline for Rampart is “The Most Corrupt Cop You’ve Ever Seen On Screen.” As good as Harrelson’s performance is, you’re left wishing he had shared that screen with a few more of his costars. It’s that longing that makes Rampart a good movie, rather than the great one it could have been.
Mike Schmidt