Miller's CrossingThey say there is no honor among thieves; so when Miller's Crossing opens with a speech to Leo O'Bannon (Albert Finney), the crime boss of the (unnamed) city--circa Prohibition-era--by one of his "protectees" and soon-to-be rival, Johnny Caspar (Jon Polito) about ethics in organized crime--concerning a bookie named Bernie Bernbaum (John Turturro) who is selling info about Caspar's fixed fights--there is a farcical quality to the platform of honesty and integrity to which Caspar is claiming to endorse. It's a platform which several gangster movies have leaned toward before, but considering our entire cast of characters is corrupt in one way or another, the dry absurdity is an early indicator of that Coen brothers style to follow.
|
|
It would not be entirely accurate to describe Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) as our "hero", for he too is a criminal, a right-hand man to Leo, who advises him without sugar-coating the truth about his "bad play" at antagonizing Caspar into a fight, simply to protect Bernie from the wrath of his "subject", Caspar. There is a part of us--weened on gangster flicks--that knows this, that thinks that Leo should give him up because he "broke the rules", because he got caught, or whatever programmed response movies like The Godfather have made us think--that Bernie must pay the piper, so to speak. Maybe Leo does this to annoy Caspar and his towering shadow, in the form of the sardonic Eddie Dane (J. E. Freeman); but the truth of it is that he's been had by a dame, one Verna Bernbaum (Marcia Gay Harden)...and the last name is no coincidence. Verna is Bernie's sister, and the smart guy that Tom is smells her grift of Leo, and knows that she--and Bernie--are playing Leo like a fiddle. And Tom knows she's no good for his best friend, but is in no position to preach, considering he's been "unfaithful" to Leo in his affair with Verna--but not in his loyalty to his gang. Over the course of Miller's Crossing these irreconcilable traps of loyalty and honor--ethics and survival--escalate and cause the feud between Leo and Caspar to explode and spiral out beyond control, leaving Tom to perform a tightrope walking act, with the line being his own loyalty to friendship, love, and honor--his balancing pole is his sharp mind and his poker face. And Tom eludes not just his enemies in Miller's Crossing, but the audience, too; for as Tom says repeatedly: "Nobody knows anybody."
What makes Tom such a smart character--a kind of gangster equivalent of Sam Spade--is his ability to find the weakness in his quarry, and seize on it...in most cases. He knows how people are going to react because of their tells, their mannerisms, and he knows what buttons to push. It's too bad for Tom that his deftness with which he can play the people of the city doesn't translate to his gambling addiction--otherwise, he might not be so deep in the hole with the local loan shark, Mr. Lazarre. Tom may not appear to be a manipulative sort of person on the surface, but chalk that up to the ease with which he navigates the underworld wherein he is a duke of Hell, a plotter, a tactician...but vehemently proclaims he is not a killer. Like Sam Spade, Tom doesn't edge toward violence, doesn't want to use a gun to solve his problems, when a few well-placed words work far better and are a lot less messy. Only, it doesn't always work out that way for Tom; Leo doesn't really listen to his claims that Verna is no good for him...until he makes other things known to seal the deal, provoking his Irish capo. Is Tom really so concerned about the city going to war over Leo protecting Bernie that he would instigate a fight with Leo? Or is it like Verna says, that he takes the "long way around" to get what he wants, that what he wants is her. But what each character wants is usually tied to their own weakness, which is what Tom latches onto to achieve his ends, even if his grasp over these things is tenuous at best. Leo's weakness is his pride and manliness--exuberantly represented in his bravura firefight with a tommy gun set to "Danny Boy" amid his burning mansion. Caspar's weakness is his dedication to the idea that there is order in the world of organized crime--that the name itself is more than just a convenient euphemism for the mob--and takes honor and credit a little too quickly as proof. Even Verna's weakness is that she may actually love Tom, someone as much of a bastard as she is, something she knows, but can't avoid. But Tom has one too, and it's not just his reputation for being unlucky at cards. Tom doesn't want to be the fool, and doesn't want to be caught in the pointless war brewing between the two mob rivals, doesn't want to lose control of his life, doesn't want someone cleaning up his tab with the bookies on his behalf. Tom dreams of his hat floating off of his head--to him, chasing the hat would be foolish, something for a Charlie Chaplin movie, but not a serious, respected man of the mob. But what Tom actually does almost all throughout Miller's Crossing is chase his proverbial hat, sometimes literally when he finds that he drunkenly gambled it the night before, but more so metaphorically as he is continuously forced to adopt more and more creative ways to motivate the pieces of the battlefield the city has become so that the results are those he approves of--it is a fight he is trying to fix himself. The choices he has to make and the consequences of those actions are a revelation to himself, an understanding of what he really is and what he has only wanted to present himself as...something Verna astutely recognizes in him, for all the good it does her and her own.
Recommended for: Fans of a stylized period piece of gangsters and speakeasys, where the feuding mobs battle it out with the aid of corrupt cops and politicians. But the meat of the story is the soul searching mystery and web of intrigue which Tom must unknot, with a story as complex and dynamic as the works of Raymond Chandler or Dashiell Hammett.
What makes Tom such a smart character--a kind of gangster equivalent of Sam Spade--is his ability to find the weakness in his quarry, and seize on it...in most cases. He knows how people are going to react because of their tells, their mannerisms, and he knows what buttons to push. It's too bad for Tom that his deftness with which he can play the people of the city doesn't translate to his gambling addiction--otherwise, he might not be so deep in the hole with the local loan shark, Mr. Lazarre. Tom may not appear to be a manipulative sort of person on the surface, but chalk that up to the ease with which he navigates the underworld wherein he is a duke of Hell, a plotter, a tactician...but vehemently proclaims he is not a killer. Like Sam Spade, Tom doesn't edge toward violence, doesn't want to use a gun to solve his problems, when a few well-placed words work far better and are a lot less messy. Only, it doesn't always work out that way for Tom; Leo doesn't really listen to his claims that Verna is no good for him...until he makes other things known to seal the deal, provoking his Irish capo. Is Tom really so concerned about the city going to war over Leo protecting Bernie that he would instigate a fight with Leo? Or is it like Verna says, that he takes the "long way around" to get what he wants, that what he wants is her. But what each character wants is usually tied to their own weakness, which is what Tom latches onto to achieve his ends, even if his grasp over these things is tenuous at best. Leo's weakness is his pride and manliness--exuberantly represented in his bravura firefight with a tommy gun set to "Danny Boy" amid his burning mansion. Caspar's weakness is his dedication to the idea that there is order in the world of organized crime--that the name itself is more than just a convenient euphemism for the mob--and takes honor and credit a little too quickly as proof. Even Verna's weakness is that she may actually love Tom, someone as much of a bastard as she is, something she knows, but can't avoid. But Tom has one too, and it's not just his reputation for being unlucky at cards. Tom doesn't want to be the fool, and doesn't want to be caught in the pointless war brewing between the two mob rivals, doesn't want to lose control of his life, doesn't want someone cleaning up his tab with the bookies on his behalf. Tom dreams of his hat floating off of his head--to him, chasing the hat would be foolish, something for a Charlie Chaplin movie, but not a serious, respected man of the mob. But what Tom actually does almost all throughout Miller's Crossing is chase his proverbial hat, sometimes literally when he finds that he drunkenly gambled it the night before, but more so metaphorically as he is continuously forced to adopt more and more creative ways to motivate the pieces of the battlefield the city has become so that the results are those he approves of--it is a fight he is trying to fix himself. The choices he has to make and the consequences of those actions are a revelation to himself, an understanding of what he really is and what he has only wanted to present himself as...something Verna astutely recognizes in him, for all the good it does her and her own.
Recommended for: Fans of a stylized period piece of gangsters and speakeasys, where the feuding mobs battle it out with the aid of corrupt cops and politicians. But the meat of the story is the soul searching mystery and web of intrigue which Tom must unknot, with a story as complex and dynamic as the works of Raymond Chandler or Dashiell Hammett.