CITY BY THE SEA (2002) **
Reviewed 9/6/02
On average, Hollywood does not turn up any more dreck than the film industry of any other nation, but its culture of treating films as commodity first, art second, stacks the deck against its products from being as emotionally, much less intellectually, stimulating as they could be. CITY BY THE SEA is one such film with a promising premise – a cop discovers his son has committed murder – but poor delivery as the screenplay goes to great pains to cater to the lowest common denominator.
The story is based on Michael McAlary’s “Esquire” magazine article, “Mark of a Murderer,” a true life story about a police officer whose father was executed for murder and whose son was wanted for the same. The changes to the real story, like those in A BEAUTIFUL MIND are markedly Hollywood – the usual watering down of complexity for maudlin moral simplicity. There is nothing wrong with taking artistic liberties in itself, just in making alterations that result in pandering to one’s imaginary audience.
In this fictional version, cop Vincent LaMarca investigates the murder of a drug dealer and traces it to his drug addict son, Joey (James Franco), from whom he walked away fourteen years ago when he divorced Joey’s mother, Maggie (Patti LuPone). When Joey apparently murders a police officer, Vincent is torn between his duty to his son and to his job, which the movie failingly contrives to make a dichotomy (the police won’t listen to mitigating evidence favoring Joey). Over Vince lurks the shadow of his father’s execution. Joey’s grandfather, apparently by accident, killed a baby during a kidnapping attempt. Vince has made good on the LaMarca name by becoming a top officer in the force, but his reputation quickly declines once Joey is a wanted man.
The potential for an emotionally powerful film is here, but between Michael Canton-Jones’ pedestrian direction and the forced exposition in Ken Hixon’s script, it never comes together. Canton-Jones’ direction is thankfully unfussy, but on the other hand, car commercials have more subtlety than some of the scenes here. The thematic volume on generational tragedy through parental neglect is turned up so high, it threatens to drown out the rest of the movie.
Some gentle moments mostly involving Frances McDormand who plays Vince’s girlfriend, Michelle, almost save the film. McDormand has a loose spontaneity that makes her character feel less scripted than the others. You feel Michelle’s excitement when she’s with Vince through her playful banter. When she leaves him in one scene, she tenderly brushes her fingers against his hair in an offhanded but informative gesture. De Niro gets a similar moment of acting bravura in confronting the wife of a murdered policeman.
Seeing De Niro in a non-high concept role is a pleasant change. His roles as a childlike mental patient in AWAKENINGS, a vengeance-seeking monster in CAPE FEAR, a literal monster in the 1994 FRANKENSTEIN, and a cartoon character in ROCKY AND BULLWINKLE is just a waste of his time and ours. This is his best work since 1995’s HEAT. Eliza Dushku shows passion but is given little to do. William Forsythe has even less as one-dimensional psychotic lowlife. James Franco never quite comes to life as Joey, not for lack of trying, but the screenplay just doesn’t know what to do with him.
The actors constantly struggle against the pitfalls of out-of-place melodrama and sentimentality. The battle is encapsulated in De Niro’s schmaltzy climatic speech. It’s delivered with powerful aplomb, but what is being said is just plain mawkish. The sappiness finally wins with a pat coda that tries to work by glossing over the fates of several important characters.