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So much for the early Oscar buzz The Black Dahlia was experiencing as we waited with bated breath for the kind of movie we haven’t seen since L.A. Confidential or Hollywoodland (OK, that movie came out last week, but almost no one went to see Hollywoodland).  Now, all of the dreams of awards and praise are Dead On Arrival, just like the movie.   

Set in post-World War II California, Josh Hartnett stars as Los Angeles Police Department detective Bucky Bleichert – a former boxer who has become a star after being used to help drum up support for a critical Bond Act that increases funds for the cops, and provides a crucial pay raise to all of his colleagues.  Now, he and his partner, Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart), have become heroes, but their fate might not be as charmed. 

While they are involved in surveillance and a wild arrest, the horribly mutilated body of a beautiful young lady has been found just a block away.  Even though Lee has big problems to deal with, and Bucky is dedicated to solving the case they are assigned to at the moment, Lee gets them placed on the high profile assignment of finding the murderer of the slain lady, who has been dubbed The Black Dahlia in sensationalized reports and by a public fascinated with her story.

Can Bucky and Lee find the killer? 

He once was a great director, but I don’t know why Hollywood still allows Brian De Palma to make movies.  De Palma hasn’t had a good movie in 10 years – a decade of mediocrity that has seen stinkers like Snake Eyes, Femme Fatale, and Mission To Mars force a new generation of moviegoers to wonder what’s so special about this guy.  The Black Dahlia keeps that streak alive in ways even his biggest supporters will have to acknowledge.

First, the story, written by Josh Friedman (based on the novel by James Ellroy) is all over the place.  It’s two or three movies in one with a strange love triangle between Johansson, Eckhart and Hartnett; a lady who looks like the Dahlia (played by Hilary Swank) who mysteriously enters the scene; her screwed up family; problems Eckhart faces with an old arrest; Johansson’s past; and the whole Black Dahlia mystery.  The result is a very convoluted story that kind of wraps up at the end, but the mystery about this film is why anyone thought it was a good idea in the first place.  With all of these subplots, it’s barely about The Black Dahlia and extremely hard to follow, especially as you stop caring where it is all going.    

Second, the tone of the movie is all screwed up, and that responsibility falls to De Palma.  The movie quickly has more laughs than a Rob Schneider comedy, but not in a good way, as we watch the wheels fall off as The Black Dahlia should be getting more gripping and demanding of our attention. The film is supposed to be suspenseful, sexy, moody, dark, danger-around-every-corner, hard hitting drama, but it devolves into laughter at the overwrought acting performances of Eckhart, Swank, Johansson, Fiona Shaw and Rose McGowan (again, I blame De Palma, see the next paragraph). 

The worst part of the movie is how De Palma has directed all of the women to act like a parody of a 40’s film noir characters.  You can’t take these performances seriously because they are all trying to be Ingrid Bergman or Katherine Hepburn instead of playing the characters, and do so in embarrassing ways that detach the audience from the movie.  Maybe McGowan is supposed to be a little nuts, or Shaw is supposed to be ALOTTA nuts, but both go a bit too far, while Johannson and Swank don’t give off the smoldering chemistry you want.    

Finally, The Black Dahlia has one of the silliest ending in years after sitting through an additional 20 minutes that just make you realize how much you have to go to the bathroom more than engrossing you.  Hartnett and possibly Johansson walk away unscathed, while everyone else will need to trumpet past and future performances to get the next pay day lined up (Please forgive Eckhart and see his movie Thank You For Smoking).

½ Waffle (Out Of 4)     

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