Under Suspicion
Director: Stephen Hopkins
Cast: Morgan Freeman, Gene Hackman, Thomas Jane, Monica Bellucci, Nydia Caro
(Lions Gate Films/Revelations Entertainment, 2000) Rated: R
by Cynthia Fuchs
PopMatters Film and TV Editor
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The Natural Human Environment
"Perhaps catastrophe is the natural human
environment. We find ourselves attacked by unforeseen
forces come to harm us, even though we are innocent of
any wrongdoing." With these ominous words, Henry
Hearst (Gene Hackman) ends a speech he's been making
for a room full of people in tuxedos and gowns. He's a
well-known man-about-town, doing his bit to solicit
relief funds for victims of Hurricane Lucy, which has
just blown through Puerto Rico... but there's
something else afoot. For all his philanthropic
grandeur, Henry is "under suspicion." And at this
particular moment, he's under he watchful eye of his
old acquaintance and sometime friend, Police Captain
Victor Benezet (Morgan Freeman). The camera angles are
low, the sound of forks tinging glasses fades out, and
-- while Victor's eyes hold fast on their target --
Henry pulls back, until he's out of focus and artfully
spooky. Catastrophe, yes. We can feel it coming. Even
though we are innocent of any wrongdoing.
Under Suspicion is peppered with such overwrought
moments. But such occasional melodrama hardly
explains why the film's theatrical release schedule
was so abruptly halted last year, after it had opened
in only a few theaters, or why it has suddenly been
relegated -- as of this past Tuesday (January 2) -- to
what is essentially a straight-to-video status. Such a
fate is usually reserved films made by unknowns, that
never found distribution deals, or that feature girls
in panties being chased by men in ski masks (though to
be fair, this last also shows up in box office
winners). Clearly, Under Suspicion does not fit any
of these categories, as it stars and was
executive-produced by heavy-hitters Freeman and
Hackman, directed by Stephen Hopkins (Lost in Space,
The Ghost and the Darkness), and was indeed picked
up by Lions Gate for distribution. It's hard to tell
exactly what happened, why the film is now at
Blockbuster rather than the multiplex or even the art
house theater, though we can surmise it has to do with
money.
First, we might examine the plot for signs of
terribleness. But the basic storyline actually looks
fine, even if it is a bit artificial in a "hothouse"
way, concerning rich U.S. citizens in an island
setting -- granted, it's Puerto Rico, technically
still the U.S., but it's set up here to look all
exotic and anxiety-making. The film takes place during
a carnival, which means that though it's intently
focused on an extended conversation between Henry and
Victor, it includes repeated insert shots of
celebratory street musicians in poofy-sleeved shorts
and people dancing in bright colors. Henry is a
super-rich scuzball with a young-but-disenchanted
trophy wife, Chantel (Monica Bellucci, also currently
appearing in Tornatore's Malena). He's bitter, and
we'll find out why; he calls her "a beautiful woman
who moves through life unchallenged," which suggests
that she'll run into some challenges before the film
is over. The film opens in their posh home, where a
long hallway -- filmed so that it looks really,
really long -- separates husband and wife, as he
observes and then approaches her. She's so lovely, so
untouchable, as she checks herself in the mirror in
her fine black gown. They're about to embark on a big
night out, but when he tries to nuzzle her neck, she
puts him off. Uh-oh.
Not much else happens before the plot begins to
thicken, afer a fashion. On his way to the soiree,
Henry is picked up by his old friend Victor, who takes
him down to the cop station for "a few questions." As
those of us who watch cop movies know, this means a
lot of questions, but Henry is arrogant enough at
first to imagine that he'll be cut loose in minutes.
Well, these minutes drag on. And on. Henry starts to
chafe. He says mean things to Victor's young cohort,
Felix Owens (Thomas Jane, last seen battling sharks
with LL Cool J in Deep Blue Sea), calling him
"Opie," until the kid threatens to throw punches. It
would seem that the tension is rising.
At this point, it may be useful to say a little about
that thickening plot, which unfolds in the form of the
conversation between Victor and Henry, with occasional
interjections from Felix. (This structure comes
straight from Under Suspicion's source, Claude
Miller's Garde A' Vue, which Hackman saw back in
1981, and has been wanting to remake ever since.
Freeman's company, Revelations Entertainment, financed
the film.) Recently, as it happens, Henry found a dead
girl in the park, while he was jogging. He alerted the
police, but now they're thinking that he may have been
the murderer -- of this girl and one who turned up
dead previously. The cops inform Henry that they
believe the girl's body has been posed, as if for a
picture. Hey! Henry's hobby is photography! And so now
the cops come at him with their suspicions, putting
together all kinds of clues to form a story that --
judging from the film's visual evidence, anyway -- is
true. Sort of. Then again, maybe not. Accused of
raping and killing this sweet young girl in her soccer
uniform, Henry is understandably upset. So is Victor.
He presses further -- the cops have learned that
Hanery hasn't slept with Chantel in two years, that he
goes to the other side of the tracks to buy time with
bleached-blond, very young-looking prostitutes. (Or,
as Victor puts it, "I'm talking about street-hookers,
needle-users, crack-heads! Not high class call girls,
curb-crawlers, for God's sake!") As Victor relates
these apparent facts, Henry blanches for a moment, and
then the film cuts to a shot of him, his face sweaty,
engaged in mid-from-the-rear thrust with this
prostitute. Victor's comment: "Why here, like this? In
the dirt?" My comment: Icky.
Still, it's not entirely clear what's going on.
Interestingly, Victor appears in these flashbacks --
or are they imaginary scenes? -- lurking in corners or
emerging from shadows, prompting Henry to answer
questions while he's scuttling about on the street, in
back rooms, or amid the trees where the dead body has
been found. All this intrusiveness breaks up Henry's
narrative -- or is it Victor's? -- and does encourage
you to think some about how the story is being told,
by whom, and for whose benefit. There's not much in
this film that's subtle, but it does actually have
something thoughtful to say about the ways that we
perceive and assume truth, or the ways we might be
convinced of some untruth because of our own
anxieties. What you see can be -- and usually is --
deceiving.
Under Suspicion stresses this point in numerous
ways, with two-way mirror shots, videotaped interview
scenes, and the repeated exchange of menacing glances.
While Henry is visibly coming undone -- literally,
Felix pulls off his toupe during one brief, rather
physical altercation -- Victor will have a lesson to
learn as well, because, well, he thinks he knows
what's going on. It's not hard to guess that his
presumptive manner will be a problem, especially when
you hear what he has to say. Victor prides himself on
being an excellent reader of appearances, and always
right; as he tells Henry, he gives away that he's
lying by the way he directs his eyes, "turned down and
to the left," or again, "That old carotid artery's
pumping like gangbusters!" (It may seem that Victor's
a tad excitable, but he has his reasons, as revealed
by Henry's provocations -- the straight-up cop has had
two failed marriages, and feels more than a little
badly about this.) Suspicions and accusations fly back
and forth during Henry and Victor's verbal sparring,
and the movie suggests that guilt -- for both of them
-- has more to do with appearances and self-doubts
than with actual events or culpability for same.
Through all this, Hackman and Freeman give assured and
compelling performances, though the revelatory finale
is predictably catastrophic. But if the film's
plot-puzzles end up being a little less than
mysterious, I still haven't come up with a completely
satisfying reason for the film's strange trajectory to
video.
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