A
deliberately paced prologue establishes the
rapport between cops Bucky Bleichert (Josh Hartnett)
and Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart), skilled boxers
who first meet in the ring in a promotional
stunt to support police pay raises and end up
plainclothes partners.
Bucky
forges a strange threesome with Lee and his
girlfriend, Kay Lake (Scarlett Johansson), who
becomes something of a bigamist, her two “super
cops” always on hand.
Then
Lee and Bucky are assigned to the murder of
Betty Short (Mia Kirshner), an aspiring actress
who was savagely slain, mutilated and sliced
in half in 1947, her death a tabloid crime that
remains unsolved today.
Lee
obsesses on the case even as dark secrets from
his past endanger him. Bucky’s legwork leads
him into a relationship with a spoiled rich
girl, Madeleine Linscott (Hilary Swank), who
bears a shadowy link to Betty, known in the
press as the Black Dahlia for her raven hair
and the flower that adorned it.
The
screenplay by Josh Friedman is heavy on voice‑overs
delivered with ponderous lethargy by Hartnett–the
actor aiming for the crisp bluntness of classic
film‑noir narration but instead sounding
like a bored English student mumbling through
a book report.
The
narration does little to ground the story, which
becomes a labyrinth of indecipherable turns
that serve only to set up De Palma’s next big
tableau. Some of the images are striking, with
a ghastly beauty, but many are just unpleasant.
The
movie rolls over and snoozes in between. When
it’s not dull, it’s garish, and when it’s not
garish, it’s grotesque.
Yet,
abruptly, “The Black Dahlia” surges to life
as Bucky sits down for chow with Madeleine’s
absurd relations, including her swaggering Scottish
father and drunken mother. It’s only a brief
resuscitation, but Swank’s family dinner scene
packs more life and emotion into a few minutes
than the rest of the movie combined.
Coming
off her second Academy Award win with “Million
Dollar Baby,” Swank dominates her scenes with
a nice emulation of the aristocratic affectations
of the femme fatales of old Hollywood.
Hartnett
is such a lightweight presence, his Bucky seems
like a boy sent out to do a man’s job, while
Eckhart’s Lee is too much a cipher, his superficial
grinning and glad‑handing early on giving
way without transition to brooding isolation.
Johansson is so wispy, she disappears in the
gaudy scenery, costumes and makeup.
Seen
mainly in audition reels watched by the detectives,
Kirshner brings a sweet, sad mix of innocence,
wiliness and world‑weary resignation to
Betty. With only a fraction of her co‑stars’
screen time, Kirshner makes Betty the most human
character in the movie.
Keep
an eye out for k.d. lang doing a fine rendition
of “Love for Sale” during a lavish production
number at a lesbian nightclub.
