Earlier this year, the
little things reminded audiences that the detective thriller is alive and
well. Despite the discord surrounding American police procedures and standards,
the concept of an investigator seeking recompense for the dead will always
intrigue as notions of compulsion, honor, and darkness are themes that enthrall
those who live outside that world, especially in the time of COVID.
Perhaps one of the most potent aspects of this subgenre of cinema are films in
which there is no clear resolution and the concept of justice is deconstructed
in uncomfortable and often visceral manners. What follows is an
examination of three such films and how they can be viewed.
The
Pledge (2001)
Director Sean Penn's magnum opus, The Pledge also features one of Jack
Nicholson's finest performances. The story focuses on a retiring
detective who, on his last day, makes an oath to find the killer of a young girl
to her grieving parents. What follows is a tightly wound thriller that
examines the perils of obsession, betrayal, and chance. Outside of a
solid ensemble (Aaron Eckhart, Robin Wright Penn, Tom Noonan, Helen Mirren,
Patricia Clarkson, and Benicio Del Toro support), Chris Menges’ crisp
cinematography captures the beauty of nature, juxtaposing it with the horrors
of the case.
Beyond Nicholson's fascinating performance, the concept of personal destruction
is of import. Penn's departure from procedural cliches allows the
narrative to stay grounded in the emotional minutiae: the eventual, unavoidable
certainty that things will not be alright and it is a surrender to this truth
that allows The Pledge to infiltrate our subconscious, linking the
viewing with countless survivors of trauma. Ultimately it is the desolation of
the hunter who will never find its prey that is the core, and yet, justice
somehow finds a way, a theme that is prevalent across all of these films.
Memories
of Murder (2003)
Bong Joon-ho's
sophomore feature is a stone cold masterwork, a vortex of darkness, pitch black
satire, and an unusual amalgam of group dynamics and masculinity.
Following the events of Korea's first recorded serial killer, the story focuses
on converging law enforcement officers who are dealing with an evil they are
woefully unprepared for. While obsession continues as a theme, Joon-ho's
meticulous design is more interested in the failure of institutions. The
police routinely violate human rights and use corrupt tactics in a desperate
bid to find the killer expeditiously. They lack the technology to process
evidence and the walls of societal order are slowly crumbling as the body count
rises, giving way to an onslaught of uncertainty. This is Joon-ho's
dissent.
The attention to detail is the film's strongest element. Everything has
an aura of authenticity that enhances the dread that is woven through the heart
of the narrative. These are flawed, ordinary humans who are faced with
something inherently unnatural and evil and the result is a lack of
confrontation and what seems like a miscarriage of justice for the
victims. This is what Joon-ho is after, how to make sense of
reality when the knowledge that evil will triumph is everywhere, how does a
sense of normalcy every return. As the world slowly extricates itself
from clutches of COVID, the irony that the true killer was eventually caught is
bittersweet. as justice, in its many forms often takes lifetimes to truly be
served.
Winning the academy award for best foreign picture, Juan Jose Campenella's
Earth shattering mystery combines elements from the previous films to zero in
on the human aspect at the center. Obsession, things left undone, and
systemic failure serve as the foundation for an investigation into a heinous
crime. Sprawling over two decades, the suspect is identified early, yet
through the working of a cannibalistic political machine, is never brought to
trial. The emotional gamut is run, with respect to the victim's surviving
husband and the lead detective’s unrequited love for his superior. These
important subplots are also essential as their resolution is perhaps one of the
greatest (and most surprising) endings in the history of cinema.
It's no surprise that Secret has the most succinct ending, mainly
because it is a cathartic response to the egregious tragedies that are
continuously visited upon the viewer in the two hours prior. Monsters
abound in the streets, in the bedroom, and in the office, as Campenella spares
no one from his focus. Highlighting important events from Argentina's history,
this is a masterful blending of potent imagery and disdainful reminders of the
past; specters that haunt each of these films with their bloodstained regrets from
a past that is impossible to change.
--Kyle Jonathan