Judging from Hollywood, people in past decades (hopefully not today) had an overly broad idea of what constitutes a mirage. To them, it wasn't just a natural optical illusion, as when a desert horizon appears to ripple like water; it could be a detailed hallucination brought on by stressful conditions, as when one sees a nonexistent lemonade stand in the desert. That must be the kind intended for the title of this movie, which takes place in New York City with no evidence of high heat and no dialog about mirages.
It is fitting that the picture begins with an evening blackout in a tall office building, wherein David Stillwell (Gregory Peck) notes that people often act more depraved in the dark. Little does he realize yet how much in the dark he is. First a friendly woman named Shela (Diane Baker) has trouble believing that he doesn't recognize her; later, he can't find the path where he thought he followed her. He also has unfamiliar criminal enemies who expect him to have something of value to them. Is he losing his mind? Does he have amnesia, exacerbated by false memories for some reason? Or is there a conspiracy to make him think so?
Eh, I might as well tell you what the Netflix jacket says: It's option 2. In the course of the story, we get a lot of abrupt flashbacks, mostly to moments we've already seen as David pieces things together. It becomes increasingly apparent that on some level, he doesn't want to remember the whole truth. Sometimes he gets irritably defensive when asked simple questions whose answers he ought to know...or questions on subjects that he'd rather consider irrelevant. He would like to know Shela better, tho.
One of the more notable cast members is Walter Matthau as Ted Caselle, a detective whom David hires. Caselle has his doubts about the case, but he is curious; besides, as a novice, he can't really afford to turn it down. Inexperience aside, he comes across as something of a Columbo type.
Another memorable character is Willard (George Kennedy), the most brutal thug among the villains. Perhaps it's not coincidence that writer Peter Stone also wrote Charade, featuring Matthau and a frightful Kennedy. It does have a somewhat similar feel.
In truth, Mirage feels like a combination of multiple movies. The plot and Edward Dmytryk's direction evoke typical Hitchcock (no wonder Dmytryk wanted Tippi Hedren before Baker), with a touch of The Bourne Identity. One key moment has to be a shout-out to The Third Man. This being post-Hays Code, it can afford to be a little more daring in some ways.
Much of the time, I got the impression of a dim view of humanity, as common to noir. But the conclusion, which I hadn't predicted, is more positive and, to me at least, more satisfying. The Quincy Jones score may have helped with that satisfaction.
Indeed, I enjoyed Mirage more than any other not-so-recent movie I've seen in quite a while. If you like the genre, I have to recommend it.
No comments:
Post a Comment