The Bone Collector
*1/2
Rated on a 4-star
scale
Screening venue: Odeon (Bromborough)
Released in the UK by UIP on 14 January, 2000; certificate 15; 118 minutes;
country of origin USA; aspect ratio 2.35:1
Directed by Phillip Noyce; produced by
Martin Bregman, Michael Bregman, Louis A Stroller.
Written by Jeremy Iacone; based on the novel by Jeffery
Deaver.
Photographed by Dean Semler; edited by William
Hoy.
CAST.....
Denzel Washington..... Lincoln Rhyme
Angelina Jolie..... Amelia Donaghy
Queen Latifah..... Thelma
Ed O'Neill..... Lieutenant Paulie Sellito
Mike McGlone..... Detective Kenny Solomon
Luis Guzman..... Eddie Ortiz
Michael Rooker..... Captain Howard Cheney
Leland Orser..... Richard Thompson
I arrived just in time, and got into the screening
of "The Bone Collector" just as the lights were going down.
I rushed to a good seat, settled in and quickly got comfortable -- the opening
montage was pieced together in a luxurious, soothing way. It took me a minute
to realise that the images it contained were depictions of horrific
murders.
Nauseating brutality has become commonplace in
Hollywood. Gone are the days when filmmakers expected us to be shocked by
such releases as "The Silence of the Lambs", "Seven" or "Copycat" -- gather
the kids round, folks, because savage slaughter is now considered fit material
for any popcorn movie.
This one has the premise, pacing and structure
of a cheap paperback thriller, but it's hard to dismiss it as disposable
trash entertainment -- the big-budget production shows off glossy photography,
pristine locations and a big star, Denzel Washington, in the lead role.
Washington plays Lincoln Rhyme, a forensics expert who was paralysed from
the neck down by a falling object at a crime scene. Rhyme once had the energy
to write twelve criminology textbooks; now he's resigned to making defeatist
sarcastic remarks about everything under the sun, and begging his doctor
to inject him with something lethal.
Rhyme's former cop colleagues come to him for
help: A serial killer is deliberately leaving clues, but nobody can decipher
them. Our hero does, of course, initially object but eventually agree to
assist in piecing together this puzzle, on the condition that he can work
with Amelia Donaghy (Angelina Jolie), the young detective who gathered the
initial scraps of evidence. He likes her attention to detail.
The movie's method is straightforward: Lots of
policemen sit around Rhyme's apartment and figure out what the killer's latest
hints mean; squad cars are rushed to the expected crime scenes, and arrive
just too late; Rhyme uses a walkie-talkie to guide Amelia on how to collect
the evidence. She does a lot of grimacing at the disgusting situations, and
I don't blame her, since she has to get stuck into the aftermath of mutilation,
flaying, boiling and drowning. One guy has bits of his flesh cut out, and
is torn apart by rats attracted to the blood.
There are preposterous patches throughout all
this -- in one scene, for example, Amelia is instructed to cut off a victim's
hands, to preserve physical evidence the killer might have left on them.
I am not the first person to notice that, using this logic, the corpse might
as well be decapitated, in case anyone needs to check dental records. This
is nothing compared to the closing fifteen minutes, in which all dimensions
of all developments are so absurd that I could write essays on them. Just
as annoying is the director's overuse of creepy hand-held point-of-view shots,
which appear in every scene.
The quality of the human presence varies. Ed O'Neill's
small role shows he could be a good character actor; Washington is forceful
and passionate, but with subtle undertones of weariness that convince us
he really is a cripple, rather than an actor lying down and waving his head
a lot. Jolie, however, who is a good actress, has little to do but stand
across from these guys while looking tough and responding to their
questions.
Conventional and petty criticisms aside, what
really disturbs me about this flick is how casually it deals with grisly
horrors. Today I saw Spike Lee's "Summer of Sam", which depicts serial killing
with potent realism. Sadly, the nonchalant tone of "The Bone Collector" is
a clearer reflection of the way modern thrillers are headed. I'm glad I do
not eat in the cinema -- entertainers don't want us to munch on our snacks
anymore; they want us to puke them up.
COPYRIGHT© 2000 Ian
Waldron-Mantgani
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