st. denzel washington, angelina jolie, queen latifah
scr. jeremy iacone, based on the book by jeffery deaver
Filmgoers looking to be wet about the seat of the pants as they were with Dead Calm, the previous effort from Australian director/cinematographer combo Philip Noyce and Dean Semler might expect some of the same taut suspense from their next thriller. The Bone Collector however, manages to be predictable, anticlimactic, uninteresting and above all - not very scary.
Denzel Washington, playing a forensics expert paralysed except for his head, shoulders and right index finger is by default a male lead seriously devoid of dramatic opportunity. Noyce does well to animate his bed-ridden star, but no matter how many fancy, voice-operated computers you surround him with, no matter how gloriously you might sweep the camera across him, no matter how sizzling are his seizure-scenes, the fact remains: the guy is in bed.
The action is left to young, troubled street-cop Amelia Donaghy (Angelina Jolie) whom Washington discovers after her quick-witted forensics work on a corpse garnished with cryptic clues. He senses that she has something akin to the Force for forensics and enlists her against her will to help catch the killer. He monitors and directs her grisly investigations via his bedside arsenal of communications equipment and whizzbangery, and at one point reminds her that: "a crime scene is three-dimensional…" That's more than can be said of her performance, which consists mainly of a prodigious pout. (For some reason we discover that her character was once a model. This information bears no relevance to the plot, but perhaps apologises for her being over-qualified in the looks department).
Suspenseful scenes in The Bone Collector involving Jolie pouting in dark/dank subterranean lairs are tense and claustrophobic but generally unsatisfying in the spook stakes. Director Noyce calls our bluff a few times too often. Particularly irritating is his "BOO!" technique. You know the one, where a highly-strung scene, craving a genuine fright is instead blasted with a deafening noise from the next unrelated scene. The audience jumps with pain - not fear. Annoying.
We don't get to know much about the killer, nor any of his victims. When he was unmasked I was - and still am - stumped as to where he came from. Was he also a balanced character in the film? I didn't recognise him at all and I thought I was paying attention. Why haven't I been deceived into liking him, pitying him? Plus, his motives when revealed are utterly pissweak. Instead of 'Aha'! its 'der…'. I sat awaiting a twist after the killer took his bullets right on cue, but the credits came up.
As for the hyped romance and sex aspects of the film - this is a deception, there are none unless you register a naughty bedside glance or the brief stroking of Washington's functional finger. No need to take someone to clutch, nor an extra pair of duds for that matter.
david bull
comments? email the authorreviews | features | archive
toto :: cinema matters
Special Advertising Section:
Premiere is a monthly magazine that takes readers behind the scenes of newly released and soon-to-be-released films. The magazine answers questions about the business and art of moviemaking and helps readers get a better understanding of cinema. Premiere also features interviews, profiles, and film commentary. If you live in the US or Canada, you can get a discounted subscription to Premiere by clicking on the image to the left.
