I wanted to love it, but Brian De Palma's "The Black Dahlia" is a flat, paceless, uninvolving, constipated bore. It bears few of the director's signature set pieces, and possesses none of the energy of classics like "Body Double". "Dressed To Kill", "Blow Out" and "Scarface". Based on the rambling, seedy novel by James Elroy, which I read and enjoyed very much over a decade ago, this filmization of the novel fails in its casting, structure and set design. Although the film's period Los Angeles has all the trappings of ye olde Hollywoodland, it looks like a movie set. Josh Hartnett is totally unconvincing in his central role, as is the highly masculine Hillary Swank as a "femme fatale" (give me a break! she belongs in an Almodovar movie!) who sucks Hartnett into a convoluted web and her unappealing mouth. Scarlett Johannsen, who looks ravishing in a shot or two, is weak as water, and owns little screen presence. The narrative is unbelievably matter-of-fact and most of the film's surprise "revelations" are plain silly. More conservative critics have focused on the film's "sleaze" and "trashiness". If ONLY there was more sleaze and trash. This is lightweight film noir that will will send most viewers back to the video store to rent the DVD of "LA Confidential", an excellent adaptation of another Elroy novel. This turgid celluloid clunker is something I will soon forget.
Review of The Black Dahlia
