I'm fairly sure that regular readers here know how I feel about David Mamet's work. Even with all of his obvious quirks (the elliptical dialogue technique "borrowed" by Brian Michael Bendis,) and faults (the remarkable inability to create a female character that's believable,) Mamet consistently does more to make the writer-portions of my brain sing than any other writer-slash-director working. I'll champion movies like the underappreciated
Spartan as if I were their father and when his material disappoints me, such as in the loathsome and excruciating
Edmond, I take it as a personal affront.
In other words, it's very, very weird for me to walk out of one of his films with something like mixed feelings for the work, but that's exactly what happened this afternoon when I saw
Redbelt.
The brief version of the plot: Chiwetel Ejiofor plays Mike Terry, an honor-bound, financially-strapped jujitsu trainer that finds himself involved in a typically Mametian plot. It begins with an accidentally-fired gun and a Hollywood star involved in a nightclub fight, passes through a flirtation with the film industry, works in getting screwed by completely unprincipled fight promoters, and ends with a well-handled fight for not only Terry's honor, but that of the martial arts he holds so dear.
Everyone in this film - with the notable exception of Rebecca Pidgeon (whose sole purpose seems to be appearances in films made by her husband) does an impressive job with the material they're handed. Mamet's emblematic dialogue, particularly when he's directing, is not easy on actors: repetitive and stripped to the point where the absence of nuance becomes its own trope, but the cast, including Emily Mortimer and Tim Allen (who I'm glad to see actually
acting versus being a Disney Corporate Puppet) alongside mainstays like David Paymer and Ricky Jay, holds up their end of things with nary a grumble. The centerpiece, however, belongs to Chiwetel Ejiofor, who's the sort of actor I love, able to convey emotion and thought without opening his mouth or making exaggerated facial expressions, it's easy to see why Mamet picked him as Mike Terry.
So, what's the problem? That's the bugaboo - I can't really go into it without spoiling the film's ending and I loathe spoilers, spoiler-devoted websites, people who issue them, and the DC Comics character of the same name (albeit for an entirely different reason.) Suffice it to say that where Mamet normally goes for the unconventional and clever, the resolution to Terry's travails is far too simple for the amount of buildup the viewer experiences, particularly after its revealed how deep the plot against him goes. For a good 90% of the film's running time, I was very pleased with what was being unfolded in front of me. The unlikely, near-random turn of events in the dojo that occur very early in the picture and the amount of coincidence and good fortune that comes Terry's way may have been scented with incredulity, but I accepted it as I accepted
The Spanish Prisoner and
House of Cards and their unlikely setups because the end result, the final knife-twist in those pictures, it brings everything together.
But this time, it...doesn't, but it does. It provides the kind of finale that Mamet's never done before, one that's closer to
The Karate Kid than
Heist and even if it feels as if Mamet
thinks he's done the work, it's strangely unsatisfying. A stretched metaphor would be if you took a first-class flight to Paris, got a luxurious limousine ride to your hotel, checked into an opulent room, and were then informed that the only food you'd be allowed to eat was McDonald's. While it's not quite the final-act disaster that movies like
Sunshine have become known for, it's still disappointing.
Even with all of that said, there's an awful lot to like about the final product. Mamet shows signs of directorial growth in several scenes, opting for quiet over chatter in a few key moments, thereby letting his actors tell the story with their bodies and faces with unheard dialogue, and giving the audience a break from his rat-a-tat wordplay. Perhaps even more surprising is Emily Mortimer's portrayal of an attorney who finds herself being taught by Terry - she comes mighty close to being the first female character in a Mamet film that I
like, which can be nothing but a good sign as far as I'm concerned.
