Movie Reviews
By Kam Williams

Excellent .....................llll
Very Good .................. lll
Good ...........................ll
Fair .............................l
Poor ............................No Stars

Film Reviews by Kam Williams         

A Quintet of Quick Takes
Five Film Reviews in Brief by Kam Williams

Al Franken: God Spoke
lll
Franken fans are the intended audience for this light-hearted look at the political landscape during which the left-leaning comedian devotes most of his time annoying familiar right-wing media-darlings, from Bill O’Reilly to Sean Hannity to Ann Coulter to Henry Kissinger. Most of Al’s adversaries take his in-your-face confrontations in stride, with the notable exception of the humorless Coulter who remains rabid even when the TV cameras have been turned off.
Unrated 
Running time: 90 minutes
Studio: Balcony Releasing

Aurora Borealis
ll
This generation-skipping drama is about a slacker (Joshua Jackson) mourning the passing of his father who suddenly finds the spark that’s been missing from his life when he takes a job as a janitor at his grandparents’ retirement home where he unexpectedly finds a love interest in a spunky nurse (Juliette Lewis). Unfortunately, the story drags because the characters aren’t compelling, despite decent performances delivered by Donald Sutherland and Louise Fletcher as the aging elders.
Rated: R for profanity
Running time: 90 minutes
Studio: Regent Releasing

Le Petit Lieutenant
lll1/2
This unlikely-buddy crime thriller, set in Paris, pairs an enthusiastic rookie cop (Jalil Lespert) fresh out of the Police Academy with a jaded veteran inspector (Nathalie Baye) who’s turned to alcohol since the death of her son. This atmospheric mood piece devotes as much time to character development as to cracking the case of the serial killer responsible for the series of brutal attacks along the banks of the Seine River.
Unrated 
In Polish, Russian and French with subtitles.
Running time: 110 minutes
Studio: The Cinema Guild

Saint of 9/11
llll
Moving bio-pic of Father Mychal Judge chronicles the martyred NYFD Chaplain’s life and times through the eyes of not only firemen, but friends, colleagues, parishioners and anyone who happened to cross his path. Captivating film makes a convincing case that this Franciscan priest who ministered in sandals to AIDS patients and the homeless deserves serious consideration for canonization. Narrated nicely by Ian McKellen.
Unrated
Running time: 90 minutes
Studio: IFC Films

Sherrybaby
llll
Maggie Gyllenhaal is magnificent in her most demanding role since Secretary (2002). As Sherry, a just-released ex-con trying to readjust to the real world while living in a halfway house, she’s torn between the urge to use drugs again and the desire to regain custody of her daughter. An incest survivor with boundary issues, Sherry survives by using sex to manipulate men. Bittersweet tale of redemption features additional noteworthy performances by Giancarlo Esposito and Danny Trejo.      
Unrated
Running time: 96 minutes
Studio: IFC Films

Idlewild
ll
Southern Speakeasy Provides Setting For Prohibition-Era Musical Melodrama

When the visually-enchanting Moulin Rouge was released in 2001, it caused quite a stir, because it featured songs by The Beatles, Elton John, David Bowie, Madonna and other latter-day icons in a period piece that takes place in 1900, well before any of them were even born. Despite the glaring anachronisms, however, the picture went on to land eight Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture, thereby opening the doors for others to take similar liberties with the costume drama genre.
The equally-blasphemous Idlewild represents the first such attempt to mimic Moulin Rouge’s irreverent approach to moviemaking, here, mixing hip-hop into a historical flick set in the Thirties during Prohibition. The film represents the brash directorial debut of Bryan Barber, who makes quite a splash via an elaborate musical throwback replete with chorus lines reminiscent of an extravagant Busby Berkeley production like Cabin in the Sky (1943) or 42nd Street (1933).
To date, the MTV Award-winning Barber is best-known as the brains behind videos for OutKast, Missy Elliott, Ludacris, Destiny’s Child, Christina Aguilera and Kelly Clarkson. In some respects, Idlewild wasn’t much of a stretch in that he collaborates again with OutKast’s Big Boi and Andre’ 3000 who co-star in this bifurcated, bittersweet tale of love and ambition.
The action unfolds at a joint called Church, a free-for-all speakeasy located in Idlewild, Georgia. As the movie opens, we learn that lifelong friends Rooster (Boi) and Percival (3000) were raised on opposite side of the tracks of this sleepy southern town. The former is the street-wise son of a moonshiner, while the latter comes from a well-to-do family which made its money legitimately, as undertakers.
As a result, flashy, wheeler-dealer Rooster developed the perfect personality to serve as the emcee/headliner at the mob-run nightclub. By contrast, the shy and soft-spoken Percival, a mortician by day, arrives at the club most evenings to play piano as an escape from working for his overbearing father (Ben Vereen).
The roving-eyed Rooster is married with five kids to the suspicious Zora (Malinda Williams), a shotgun-toting woman willing to go the extra yard to keep her man. Meanwhile, Percy is a lonely, melancholy soul whose spirits are picked up the day that Angel (Paula Patton) arrives in town from St. Louis to perform at Church.
Not surprisingly, Rooster’s marriage disintegrates, just as Percival gradually becomes convinced that he’s finally found that special someone he can build his life around. The only other early premise development worthy of note is the menacing presence of Trumpy (Terrence Howard), a hot-headed, ruthless gangster with little respect for his mentor (Ving Rhames) or anyone else standing in his way.
Idlewild is blessed with a talented cast which includes, along with all the aforementioned thespians, Patti LaBelle, Macy Gray, Cicely Tyson, Faizon Love, Paula Jai Parker, Bill Nunn and comedian Bruce Bruce. Yet, the film is ultimately somewhat of a frustrating head-scratcher because it fails to commit to a specific demographic. Visually, the picture pleasantly harks back to the bygone era  of the Thirties by way of its painstakingly-recreated sets, classic cars, zoot suits, chorus lines and other appropriate accoutrement. Unfortunately, it simultaneously undercuts that sense of nostalgia it might be trying to generate by indulging in incessant profanity, the N-word, rap music and some thoroughly modern dance moves.
This unresolved dilemma might help explain why the release of this stimulating and engaging morality play was delayed for two years. A marketing manager’s nightmare, Idlewild is, like Moulin Rouge, a rare combination flick which refuses to be pigeonholed. Regrettably, in spite of several inspired moments where it exhibits some genuine promise, this desperate attempt to be all things to all people ends up sabotaging any potential the overly-ambitious project had to make a memorable and lasting contribution to the annals of cinema.
           
Rated: R for profanity, ethnic slurs, nudity, sexuality and violence.
Running time: 121 minutes
Studio: Universal Pictures
                                   
The Ground Truth: After the Killing Ends
llll
Post-War Documentary Examines Soldiers’ Struggle To Adjust To Civilian Life

Since President Bush landed on that aircraft carrier to declare “Mission Accomplished!” more documentaries than I care to recount have been released about the Iraq War. While a few have been special, such as Fahrenheit 9/11, Occupation Dreamland, and Gunner Palace, none quite measures up to The Ground Truth, a powerful picture which takes an intimate look at the mental and physical challenges faced by about a dozen veterans upon their return to the States.
What makes this movie special is that it has no political ax to grind, but instead simply places the plausible everyday concerns of our servicemen and women above patriotic claptrap. For although the Department of Defense would have us believe that their readjustment to civilian life has by-and-large been smooth, this unflinching flick reveals that reintegration process to be an emotional ordeal which tests both the vets’ sanity and their fractured relationships with loved ones.  
Some of the subjects seen here are suffering from obvious ailments. Robert Acosta lost a hand and shattered a leg when he tried to toss a hand grenade out of his Humvee. Denver Jones was in another Humvee accident which shattered his spine and left him completely disabled. And Josh Forbess’ can’t even remember the helicopter crash near Mosul which claimed the lives of the rest of his company and left his face a disfigured mess.
It’s easy to understand how paraplegics, amputees, burn victims and the shell-shocked might be saddled, long-term, with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, but the film amply illustrates that just as many who emerged from the field of battle totally unscathed still find themselves in need of ongoing counseling and medical help. But with the Armed Forces inclined to play down such metaphysical ailments, the resulting fallout can be found in the skyrocketing breakdown, divorce and suicide rates among members of the military.
Take the normal-looking Demond Mullins, a Black man from Brooklyn who enlisted in the National Guard five years ago for the educational benefits. He returned home from Baghdad this summer with all his limbs intact. Yet, depressed and suicidal, he really ought to be counted as one of the walking wounded. Today, he’s channeling his suppressed rage and self-destructive inclinations constructively as a member of Iraq Veterans Against the War.
Others weren’t so lucky, like Jeff Lucey, a soldier who hung himself with a hose 12 months after his discharge when he couldn’t exorcise his demons. According to his sister, he considered himself a murderer due to executions he had been ordered to perform while in Iraq.
Overall, The Ground Truth defuses some potentially-incendiary material and presents it in an informative, impartial and thoroughly-absorbing fashion which no one who truly supports the troops could take issue with. These individual accounts add up to paint a pretty persuasive picture which makes a convincing case that there are thousands upon thousands of veterans who are ticking time bombs in dire need of ongoing attention.
Thus, kudos to Patricia Foulkrod for creating an Oscar-quality documentary with this, her directorial debut.

Rated: R for profanity and for disturbing violent content.
Running time: 78 minutes
Studio: Focus Features
           
Crank
llll
Hit Man With An Hour To Live Goes On Rampage In High-Octane, Revenge Thriller

Chev Chelios (Jason Statham) is ready to retire from his career as a mob hit man in order to settle down with Eve (Amy Smart), his clueless girlfriend who has no idea about his unseemly line of work. In fact, just last night, this previously-callous contract killer actually proved to himself that he was through with the business when he uncharacteristically allowed his targeted mark to escape unscathed.
But as bad luck would have it, today, a very groggy Chev has received an explanatory wake-up call from Ricky Verona (Jose Pablo Cantillo), a thug from a competing, West Coast crime syndicate. It seems that, while asleep, Chev was injected with a gradually-activating Beijing cocktail comprised of poisons certain to stop his heart in an hour unless he figures out a way to prevent his ticker from grinding to a stop.
The ailing assassin contacts his primary care physician (Dwight Yoakum) who snap-diagnoses the condition over the phone and surmises that his patient’s only hope rests with keeping adrenaline coursing through his veins by any means necessary. So, with the proverbial Sword of Damocles hanging over his head, Chevy proceeds to ingest whatever stimulants he can get his hands on, while making the most of what might be his last minutes on Earth. Crisscrossing Los Angeles like a madman on a mission, he takes no prisoners, seeking vengeance and an antidote, as he tries to save his naïve moll from the clutches of his tormentors.  
With a manic sense of urgency most reminiscent of Speed (1994), Crank is a similarly-premised, high-octane, edge-of-your-seat, roller coaster ride. However, instead of a careening bus rigged to explode if allowed to slow down, here we have a human who must maintain a certain pulse-rate or perish. The movie marks the praiseworthy debut of Brian Taylor and Mark Neveldine, creative collaborators who share both the scriptwriting and directing credits.
And it features the stellar stunt work of martial arts maven Jason Statham, who enjoys his best role since The Transporter (2002), a flick which made this critic’s Ten Best List. Be forewarned, however, this ethically-challenged outing ups the ante not only in terms of outrageously gruesome gore and politically-incorrect antics, but also when it comes to indulging in gratuitous nudity, sexuality, and profanity.
That being said, Crank is nothing if it is not original, compelling and relentless, as it proceeds to assault the senses tirelessly with wave after wave of momentum-building intensity. Whether jabbing himself with an EpiPen, snorting nasal sprays up both nostrils, having sex on a crowded street in Chinatown, or deliberately scalding his own arm in a waffle iron to jumpstart his heart, Chev never runs out of inventive ways to stay alive or to keep the audience riveted.
Plus, the production benefits immeasurably from its constantly clever dialogue and a litany of humorous asides which serve to lighten the more macabre aspects of this attention-deficit adventure designed with the Joystick Generation in mind. 
For better or worse, the cinematic equivalent of crack.

Rated: R for graphic carnality, frequent female frontal and male posterior nudity, pervasive profanity, ethnic slurs, incessant drug use, gruesome sadism and eroticized violence. 
Running time: 83 minutes
Studio: Lions Gate Films

Crossover
l
Much Ado About Bling, Basketball And Budding Romance In Mediocre Motor City Melodrama

Tech (Anthony Mackie), and Noah (Wesley Jonathan) are lifelong friends who share a love of basketball and see the sport as their ticket out of a nowhere land located along Detroit’s 7 Mile Road. But their fortunes diverged since the day that Tech took the rap on an assault charge to help keep his homeboy out of jail.
After doing time for a crime he didn’t commit, the ex-con returned to the ‘hood a high school dropout without much of a future. Meanwhile, Noah not only kept his nose clean and continued to play ball, but he’s even excelled to the point where he’s just landed a full scholarship to UCLA, which he plans to parlay into an MD instead of a career in the NBA.
This confounds Tech who is aching to make it to the pros, and has to settle with playing street ball in games fixed by Vaughn (Wayne Brady), a gaudy ghetto gangsta’ who’s got a great-looking girl (Shelli Boone), a pimped-out ride, and a big wad of bills. Vaughn doesn’t buy the idea that Noah really wants to be a doctor since, as he puts it, the NBA “is every black boy’s dream.”
Inexplicably, Noah chooses to participate in a rigged exhibition as a member of Enemies of the State versus cross-town rivals called Platinum led by a trash-talking loudmouth known as Jewelz (Philip Champion). Not only must Noah and Tech’s team lose, but they must suffer that humiliation in front of local fans who have no idea that the outcome was predetermined. Worse, Noah could lose his college scholarship and his eligibility as an amateur should word leak out of his already accepting cash to play for pay.
The tensions surrounding this ill-advised choice is what drives Crossover, a muddled melodrama set mostly in the Motor City. The picture was written and directed by Preston Whitmore, the brains behind such other mediocre offerings as Fled and Civil Brand.
The problems with this production are too plentiful to recount, though it’s safe to say that the film’s only saving grace is the eye candy which mercifully arrives courtesy of Mary J. Blige look-a-like Alecia Jai Fears and America’s Next Top Model-winner Eva Pigford as the lead characters’ love interests. Unfortunately, even these cuties’ considerable charms and screen chemistry end up squandered in the service of this constantly-confusing and often-illogical waste of celluloid.

Rated: PG-13 for sex, expletives, and ethnic slurs.
Running time: 95 minutes
Studio: Sony Pictures

Hollywoodland
llll
Demise Of “Superman” George Reeves Revisited By Riveting Crime Drama

On June 16, 1959, George Reeves allegedly shot himself in the head following a night of partying with friends at his Hollywood Hills home, and just a few days before his scheduled wedding to a social climber named Leonore Lemmon. Initially, no rumors of foul play surfaced, as there wasn’t any evidence of an intrusion, plus, all of his houseguests told the police essentially the same story, namely, that the 45-year-old actor had been alone in an upstairs bedroom at the time of the incident.
Following an autopsy, the coroner ruled the death a suicide, having determined that the deceased consumed enough booze to register a blood alcohol level of .27 prior to succumbing from a self-inflicted wound to the right temple. And the cops were inclined to close the case quickly, too, given the existence of a plausible explanation for Reeves’ wanting to take his own life.
It was common knowledge that his career had been on a downward spiral ever since the cancellation the previous year of his Superman TV-series. And the hit show’s six-season run had left the talented thespian unemployable and despondent over television’s tendency to leave a star indistinguishable from the role which made him or her famous.
So, the only urban legend which ended up generating any traction at the time was the widely-circulated, silly schoolyard rumor that Reeves had killed himself by leaping out of a window in the mistaken belief that he actually could fly. But time has a way of imbuing cockamamie conspiracies with an air of legitimacy. Thus, we now have Hollywoodland, a crime drama which successfully reweaves the demise of George Reeves into a riveting whodunit worthy of Agatha Christie.
This flashback-laden flick features an ensemble cast which executes Paul Bernbaum’s intriguing script so convincingly, don’t be surprised to exit the theater believing that there might really have been a murder to solve after all. While Ben Affleck (in his best outing in ages) plays the ill-fated, fading icon, the show is stolen by Oscar-winner Adrien Brody (The Pianist) as Louis Simo, the private eye hired by Helen Bessolo (Lois Smith), Reeves’ grieving mom who was convinced her son would never have done himself in.
Simo, a pushy gumshoe unafraid to step on toes in order to make a name for himself, starts to do a little digging and immediately finds no shortage of suspects. First, there’s MGM exec Eddie Mannix (Bob Hoskins), who might have been miffed that George had been having an affair with his wife. Toni Mannix (Diane Lane), in turn, had a motive of her own, since the woman scorned had recently been dumped by her hunky boy-toy in favor of a blonde bombshell (Robin Tunney) who he claimed made him feel young. The investigation even uncovers secrets which appear to implicate the gold digger fiancée, and an assortment of other shady, slippery Tinseltown types.
Paying meticulous attention to the recreation of period costumes and sets to achieve a legit Fifties sensibility, Hollywoodland is worthwhile for the amusement of the escape to that bygone era alone. But when you factor in an absorbing pulp fiction plotline, you’ve got all you can ask of a cinematic experience, revisionist history notwithstanding.

Rated: R for sex, expletives and violence. 
Running time: 126 minutes
Studio: Focus Features

Invincible
ll
Underdog Tale Of NFL Triumph Spun Into Shopworn Gridiron Saga

By the summer of ‘76, Vince Papale (Mark Wahlberg) had just about bottomed-out. The 30-year-old, substitute schoolteacher had been laid-off and was working part-time at a neighborhood tavern, when his wife (Lola Glaudini) disappeared without notice taking everything in their modest row house that wasn’t nailed down with her. All she left behind was a nasty note in which she told her about-to-be ex-husband that, “You’ll never make any money and you’ll never make a name for yourself.”
Then, while crying on the shoulder of his best friend and bar owner Max (Michael Rispoli), Vince sees a TV news report that the Philadelphia Eagles would be holding a tryout open to the public. He wondered whether this was a legit initiative aimed at improving the prospects of his beloved, hometown team which had suffered through 11 straight losing seasons, or just a publicity stunt by new head coach Dick Vermeil (Greg Kinnear) to generate interest in the flagging franchise.
Regardless, egged on by his buddy and by bar patrons who’d seen him excel in sandlot pick-up games, Vince decides to give it a shot. If successful, he’d become the oldest rookie ever to enter the NFL, an amazing feat given that he never played a down of football in college. And it is this against-the-odds effort which is the subject of Invincible, a Disney sports saga in the tradition of a couple of other fact-based bio-pics, The Rookie (2002) and Remember the Titans (2000).
Unfortunately, this film fails to measure up to either of those emotionally-engaging adventures. Invincible’s glaring flaw is that first-time director Ericson Core takes too many liberties with the truth, here, rendering Papale’s real-life story all but unrecognizable, reweaving it into a fractured fairy tale of improbable proportions.
For instance, the movie makes it appear that Vince had never played organized football before the NFL, when he had, in fact, starred for two seasons with the Philadelphia Bell till the upstart World Football League folded in 1975.
So, he wasn’t actually an unknown quantity during his endeavor to make the Eagles, but already something of a local legend. Furthermore, it turns out that on the strength of his performance in the defunct WFL he was invited to a private, not a public tryout by Coach Vermeil.
Ignoring the revisionist history aspects of Invincible, there remains the basic question of whether Invincible offers a worthwhile experience. Yes, it’s a cleverly-scripted, frequently-funny, feel-good flick, complete with a sweet storybook romance. Vince rebounds nicely from his bitter break-up with his wife when unattached, runway model-looking Janet (Elizabeth Banks) conveniently arrives in town from New York to tend bar for her overprotective cousin, Max, while making goo-goo eyes at her hunky new co-worker/would-be Philadelphia Eagle. The only threat to their budding relationship is her being a rabid Giants fan who could care less about alienating Vince’s affection by wearing her team’s jersey everywhere she goes.
Mating calls aside, the paint-by-numbers sports side of this picture is only likely to capture the imagination of kids under the age of ten unfamiliar with such formulaic fare. Anybody older has probably seen this tale told several times before, and more artfully executed. An unconvincing cross of Rocky and The Rookie.    

Rated: PG for sports action and mild epithets.
Running time: 104 minutes
Studio: Walt Disney

Home
llll
Heartbreaking Documentary Examines Single-Mom’s Struggle to Save Her Kids from the Ghetto

Sheree Farmer is a single-mom raising a half-dozen, young children alone in the drug-infested, crime-ridden ghetto of Newark, New Jersey. Fearful that the gang-controlled streets are about to swallow up her family’s future, Farmer has been in dire need of a miracle to enable her to relocate her family out of the projects. Her abusive ex-husband of 15 years, Larry, is no help, since the absentee father is an ex-con crackhead with a full plate of issues of his own he has to deal with.
The answer arrives in Mary Abernathy, a fashion exec-turned-community activist, who runs a non-profit, urban renewal program which builds new houses and offers them to poor folks at half the going market rate. Abernathy, a breast cancer survivor, found this second calling as an angel of mercy following her diagnosis. Looking for a more meaningful path in life, she left the corporate world behind with her husband’s blessing, and decided to dedicate the rest of her life to alleviate the suffering of the less fortunate.
Home, directed by Jeffrey Togman, interweaves the stories of both these women into a spellbinding, if bittersweet, examination of the concrete jungle. For this heartbreaking film not only effectively capture the woes facing Farmer, but the frustration experienced by Abernathy in urging her to complete the qualification process whereby she’ll qualify to buy a quarter million-dollar home at a deep discount.
Farmer hesitates, suspicious of the motivations of this altruistic white stranger, figuring there must be a catch. Furthermore she seems more concerned with regaining custody of the rebellious, teenage daughter who had her arrested for corporal punishment. Meanwhile, Abernathy, becomes increasingly exasperated as she faces the realization that Sheree might squander this golden opportunity to escape the slums.
Togman earns high marks here for his directorial debut, a socially-significant documentary which discusses an array of taboos concerning color, class and the ever-elusive American Dream.
Unrated  
Running time: 78 minutes
Studio: Two Boots Pioneer

Andy Warhol: A Documentary Film
llll
Andy Warhol Revisited Via Ric Burns Bio-Pic
  
It may have taken four hours instead of fifteen minutes, but leave it to Ric Burns to turn an ever-elusive and inscrutable cultural icon like Andy Warhol (1928-1987) into a readily comprehensible and accessible individual fraught with all the frailties and idiosyncrasies of your everyday, ostracized outcast-turned-voyeuristic, egomaniacal overachieving artist. Equally sympathetic and scathing in the treatment of his subject, Burns leaves no stone unturned in recounting the rise and untimely demise of this master manipulator of the media.
Over the course of the enlightening bio-pic, we learn that Warhol was raised in rural Pennsylvania by his much-beloved mom, a widow who went to great lengths to encourage her son’s every creative endeavor. Sickly with pockmarked, combination skin, unpopular Andy spent his teen years as a closeted gay, perfecting his considerable painting and drawing skills.
Given his frustrating formative years, it made sense that the painfully-shy aspiring artist would eventually head to New York City. There, he first met with a modicum of success as a commercial artist. But realizing that his individual talents would remain unappreciated if he accepted the limited role of an illustrator, he decided to erase the line between advertising and fine art by signing his name to reproductions of such recognizable products as Campbell’s Soup cans and Coca-Cola bottles, and the rest is history.
As this pioneer of the Pop Art Movement’s popularity skyrocketed, he proceeded to parlay his irreverent aesthetic into an enviable career which would include filmmaking, writing, magazine publishing, and hobnobbing with socialites and anyone else who could conceivably enhance and extend the “Warhol” brand name. While Andy himself was rather reserved, he was more than willing to implore his legions of hangers-on to overindulge in excesses, preferably for his camera, which explains the high incidence of premature burnout, depression, alcoholism and drug overdoses among his faithful followers.
A fitting tribute to an enigmatic oddball who figured out how to keep himself synonymous with the epitome of hip.            
 
Unrated
Running time: 233 minutes
Studio: Steeplechase Films

The Black Dahlia
l
De Palma Whodunit Distinctly Disappointing

Expectations were high with word that Brian De Palma was making his first film in four years. After all, the veteran director is responsible for such popular screen classics as Scarface, The Untouchables, Mission Impossible, Blow Out, Body Double, Carrie, and Carlito’s Way. Unfortunately, the buzz surrounding The Black Dahlia turns out to be undeserved, because this distinctly-disappointing detective drama fails to measure up to the rest of the De Palma resume’. In fact, the grisly whodunit isn’t even the best example of the genre released this September, being easily overshadowed by another neo-noir, the relatively-spellbinding Hollywoodland.
The Black Dahlia is adapted from the James Ellroy novel of the same name which, in turn, was loosely based on the real-life mystery involving the gruesome vivisection of a 22-year-old cocktail waitress named Elizabeth “Betty” Short. As for the known facts, the aspiring actress’ disemboweled body was discovered lying face-up, nude and chopped in half in a vacant lot in downtown Los Angeles on the morning of January 15, 1947. Her sadistic killer had not only removed her internal organs but had carved an eerie, clownish grin into the raven-haired beauty’s pretty face by slicing it open from ear-to-ear.
Posthumously dubbed “The Black Dahlia” by a reporter looking for a lurid headline, Betty’s private life became the subject of wild speculation of tabloids competing to capture the public’s attention by sensationalizing the case. For instance, the papers were quick to insinuate that there might be a slasher with a thing for brunettes on the loose, given the strangling a year earlier of socialite Georgette Bauerdorf, a dead-ringer for Betty said to frequent the same seedy haunt until her untimely demise.
Hundreds of police officers, some from neighboring jurisdictions, joined in the Black Dahlia investigation, leaving no stone unturned as they interrogated thousands of witnesses, treating anyone who had known the victim at all as a potential suspect, including the scores of former boyfriends whose phone numbers they found in her little black book. The cops even questioned the party girl’s estranged father, who had refused to identify his daughter’s corpse, although he lived only a few miles from the crime scene. Although there was no shortage of suspects, ultimately, none panned out and the perpetrator of the gruesome slaying was never found.
De Palma’s incoherent screen version of the tawdry tale takes considerable license with the truth, concocting a cockamamie crime theory so preposterous, it’s laughable, all the while interweaving several salacious subplots ostensibly to whet the appetite of today’s more sexually-obsessed audiences. Plus, he’s cobbled on a distracting love triangle involving the two lead detectives assigned to handle the case, Bucky Bleichert (Josh Hartnett) and Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart). 
Bucky narrates the blow-by-blow in that low-key monotone of your typical pulp fiction yarn. Early on, we learn that he and his new partner Lee were once foes as amateur boxers, but that they have supposedly left any antagonism in the ring. Yet, Bucky takes an interest in his partner’s common-law wife, Kay Lake (Scarlett Johansson), an openly flirtatious femme fatale with a dark past.
Lee is not exactly an altar boy, either, as he’s hiding his own illicit liaison with an heiress (Hilary Swank) who resembles the dearly departed Dahlia (Mia Kirshner). The plot thickens when we learn that not only is she bisexual but she made a lesbian stag film which embarrassed her father (John Kavanagh) and drove her mother (Fiona Shaw) batty.
Suddenly all the suspects seem to be somehow related to this one well-to-do family, and isn’t it convenient that a cop has already ingratiated himself with daddy’s little girl? With skeletons flying out of the closet at every turn, this over-plotted mess unfolds more like a dumb, daytime soap opera than a well-crafted crime thriller.
For that, check out Hollywoodland.               

Rated: R for sex, expletives, graphic violence and grisly images.
Running time: 121 minutes
Studio: Universal Pictures