Insomnia (2002)They say it all comes out in the wash...evidently, they haven't tried that with blood stains. Insomnia (2002) opens with a montage--a dream--where blood seeps into fabric; it is one of the most notorious of stains to get out, like trying to erase the unpleasant past events which leads to its unfortunate presence. A more fitting expression for this film might be, "the light reveals all", just as the light from the window blinds in the hotel room of Detective Will Dormer (Al Pacino) during his stay in Alaska, in the "land of the midnight sun". The light creeps in, like that spreading stain, and there can be no erasure.
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Dormer and his partner, Hap Eckhart (Martin Donovan) are requested to assist in the brutal slaying of a young girl. The case is a bit out of their jurisdiction--both hailing from the big city homicides of Los Angeles--but not only is it a favor to the local chief of police for the small, rustic town of Nightmute, Charlie Nyback (Paul Dooley), but it gives them a chance to dodge the crackdown of internal affairs and their very large broom aimed at their colleagues. Dormer's reputation precedes him--he is even idolized by a young detective, Ellie Burr (Hilary Swank), who invokes his strategies and takes notes with genuine admiration. Dormer's commanding skill for detection is evidenced by his assessment of the crime, even beyond the thorough enough forensics of the local police. He visualizes the crimes in his mind, flashes of insight which put the puzzle together for him--something like his dream at the onset of the film, alluding to mysteries yet to be uncovered. Dormer thinks as the criminal would--much like that of Detective Engström in the 1997 Norwegian film of the same name, from which Insomnia was adapted--and that link is what ultimately forms the tenuous bond between Dormer and his quarry in this case. Even the subtle touch of Dormer's leather jacket conveys him as a bit of an outsider, a rebel who is willing to draw outside the lines to see good work done. And Dormer has a past which few know of, unlike Engström in the original, whose transgressions were public. Dormer and his partner, Hap, know a secret which it would be better for Dormer if internal affairs didn't find out about; but Hap confesses to his partner that in order for him--and his family--to be protected, he must give something up, something which Dormer logically concludes will be him. Dormer protests--he claims--because it will mean that since so many criminals were put away on the basis of his reputation as a hero cop, that all of it will fall down...as he says, like "a house of cards". But could it be his pride which is really threatened? As the investigation continues, an ambush for the killer is staged, utilizing a backpack likely overlooked by the murderer. Dormer suggests that they bait the killer with the bag, but later says--in front of the chief and Hap--that he "feels" it might be better to do it by the book, so as to not antagonize internal affairs, to which his audience replies that he should not dismiss this genius strategy. It is a moment staged by Dormer to make his case to Hap, but is also a show to make others see him how he wants them to see him--his image, his reputation, is a part of him and his work he holds dear...his legacy. The local police trust Dormer's reputation implicitly, already assuming the best of him--albeit with the apprehensive suspicion of officer Fred Duggar (Nicky Katt)--so they have no reason to suspect Dormer or Hap. And yet, as the events of the ambush unravel, Dormer's impatience to apprehend the killer causes him to make a fatal error, and Hap's knowledge of Dormer is such that he immediately suspects he did it intentionally; because he knows Dormer's past, he discounts his reputation whole-cloth, and no amount of prestige can save him.
In the aftermath of the ill-fated ambush at the beach, Will's conscience is weighed down by guilt, compounded by his inability to sleep as the sun never sets. Ellie is assigned to the investigation surrounding the shooting at the beach house, and puts together the report of her findings with haste, convinced that in order to impress Will, she would want to display how she yearns to get back on the murder case, not stuck doing paperwork. But Will knows that what she has found isn't the truth, and advises her not to be so quick to write off the investigation--he makes it clear that it is "her name on it". What Will is doing is effectively leaving her a trail of bread crumbs, guiding her hand, one which can only lead back to Will. He has already been investing his trade secrets and advice with her--observing not to miss the small things--fundamentally laying the groundwork for her more detailed investigation into Will later. Why would he want to guide her on a path which will ultimately incriminate him? Perhaps it is because he cannot stomach any more guilt, but also that Will is grateful for Ellie's admiration; he respects her and he doesn't want her to lose her way like he feels he has, even if he can't say it. Will's paranoia and anxiety is further stoked by the calls of Walter Finch, with his bedeviling and calm voice, insinuating itself into his already weary mind. Finch is very manipulative; he is subtle in his language, always addressing Will as an equal--as a "partner"--painting "us against them" scenarios for him. As a fellow outsider to the Far North, he knows just how fragile a newly arrived mind can be to the influence wrought by sleep deprivation. Would that we did not know what we know, Walter Finch might be a real swell guy. He is a quiet man, a writer...he even claims to admire the police, which is why he claims to write about them. He appeals to Will's sympathy, even when Will balks at the idea of identifying with someone like Finch, in part because he has a sense of justice, and in part because he has a sense of guilt, and the two dance interchangeably. As previously mentioned, Insomnia is a remake--with only five years difference between them--where the overall plot is the same, but it has been shined and polished to such an extent that it remains vibrant and haunting. It reminds me of something said by Johnny Cash, when asked why he rarely wrote his own music, preferring to play other people's songs...something about how if a song was good enough, it would be the kind of thing others would sing. Insomnia is a great story that challenges conceptions of morality and whether the ends justify the means, and is a strong argument in favor of how a remake of a movie can contribute something more.
Recommended for: Fans of a rich and nuanced psychological crime thriller, with mammoth performances by great stars in a serious and riveting story, with plenty of "cat and mouse" interplay between the killer and the culprit.
In the aftermath of the ill-fated ambush at the beach, Will's conscience is weighed down by guilt, compounded by his inability to sleep as the sun never sets. Ellie is assigned to the investigation surrounding the shooting at the beach house, and puts together the report of her findings with haste, convinced that in order to impress Will, she would want to display how she yearns to get back on the murder case, not stuck doing paperwork. But Will knows that what she has found isn't the truth, and advises her not to be so quick to write off the investigation--he makes it clear that it is "her name on it". What Will is doing is effectively leaving her a trail of bread crumbs, guiding her hand, one which can only lead back to Will. He has already been investing his trade secrets and advice with her--observing not to miss the small things--fundamentally laying the groundwork for her more detailed investigation into Will later. Why would he want to guide her on a path which will ultimately incriminate him? Perhaps it is because he cannot stomach any more guilt, but also that Will is grateful for Ellie's admiration; he respects her and he doesn't want her to lose her way like he feels he has, even if he can't say it. Will's paranoia and anxiety is further stoked by the calls of Walter Finch, with his bedeviling and calm voice, insinuating itself into his already weary mind. Finch is very manipulative; he is subtle in his language, always addressing Will as an equal--as a "partner"--painting "us against them" scenarios for him. As a fellow outsider to the Far North, he knows just how fragile a newly arrived mind can be to the influence wrought by sleep deprivation. Would that we did not know what we know, Walter Finch might be a real swell guy. He is a quiet man, a writer...he even claims to admire the police, which is why he claims to write about them. He appeals to Will's sympathy, even when Will balks at the idea of identifying with someone like Finch, in part because he has a sense of justice, and in part because he has a sense of guilt, and the two dance interchangeably. As previously mentioned, Insomnia is a remake--with only five years difference between them--where the overall plot is the same, but it has been shined and polished to such an extent that it remains vibrant and haunting. It reminds me of something said by Johnny Cash, when asked why he rarely wrote his own music, preferring to play other people's songs...something about how if a song was good enough, it would be the kind of thing others would sing. Insomnia is a great story that challenges conceptions of morality and whether the ends justify the means, and is a strong argument in favor of how a remake of a movie can contribute something more.
Recommended for: Fans of a rich and nuanced psychological crime thriller, with mammoth performances by great stars in a serious and riveting story, with plenty of "cat and mouse" interplay between the killer and the culprit.