Thinking of the staid, halcyon clichés of the American 1950s, I could not help contrasting them with the underbelly of corruption obtaining in the same decade, when illicit activity and human lustfulness were as they have always been, but with more mendacity and concealment papered over by a culture touting its suburban harmony, its kid-friendliness, its tight-knit families and traditionalist values. It is this underbelly that L.A. Confidential, adapted from the novel by James Ellroy, explores and exploits with an impressive cast of characters that are true-to-type while affording varied, endearing portraits of law enforcement and the criminal underworld.
The three primary characters—Jack Vincennes (Kevin Spacey), Bud White (Russell Crowe), and Ed Exley (Guy Pearce)—embody the three distinct types as imagined by those that are familiar with shadowy and slick urban districts (often in black and white) and the policemen patrolling them. These are their dominions, and they are the attack dogs and the upholders of the civic order. Through and against their types, these actors offer compelling portraits of their characters, giving glimpses of depth and complexity belying what can be unsavory or repulsive behavior: self-righteousness and brutality, graft and honor among thieves.
An advisor to the series Badge of Honor as a law-enforcement expert, Jack Vincennes is sleazy, charming, a conniver receiving kickbacks for posing as the policeman in a set-up bust, as designed by his friend Sid Hudgens of Hush-Hush Magazine. He has long since forgotten those principles with which he likely entered the police force, and the buried, semiconscious self-disgust with his own ethical failures is revealed in a pivotal scene in which he and Ed Exley vow to help each other, regardless of the investigation’s being closed. Scenes like this reveal that the sinuous and involving storyline affords plenty of scenes that deepen and develop these three characters, for each of whose foibles one comes to feel affection, even as they reveal hidden strengths that counterpoise their attributes and highlight their complexities.
One with more strength than complexity is the brutish Bud White, played by Russell Crowe with an endearing, hard-hearted sensitivity. This crude bully, whose self-betrayal as a woman-beater underlines a moment of poignant hypocrisy and self-recognition, is the hero of the story because he overcomes his own selfishness; he triumphs as Ed Exley’s partner in the shootout, standing his ground beneath the towering figure of Dudley Smith (James Cromwell)—the true criminal mastermind and ruthless villain. This deepening of character, like that of Jack Vincennes, again underlines the self-overcoming and betterment of characters who have grown with their vices, learning to integrate them rather than eliminate them altogether.
The paragon of this working-with-vice is Ed Exley, the story’s moralist whose rigid principles give way, in the last scenes, to a more flexible give-and-take. Whether his relenting to the needs of publicity is justifiable, or at all ethical, is beside the point; that he has begun to give way suggests a new self-appraisal and a new maturity that is the reverse of what Vincennes and White have exhibited. Whereas these have tried to change their circumstances in response to the new, internal changes, Ed Exley tries to adapt himself to the new circumstances, realizing that the messiness of the world (as of all bureaucracy) sometimes requires cooperation. And his principles, despite the abrasions of his environment, remain intact.
These three characters make the film, but the others constitute no small achievement: the towering Dudley Smith, as played by James Cromwell with a standalone brogue, is subtle, paternal, and icily menacing; as played by Kim Basinger (whose aging, faintly haggard features only add to the vintage of her classical Hollywood charm), Lynn Bracken is a seductress with some emotional complexity and a few stunning scenes; and Sid Hudgens, as played by Danny Devito, whose energy is as bumptious and enterprising as he is dwarfish.
L.A. Confidential, featuring this resounding cast of characters, is also shot with an attention to outdoor lighting and natural colors eschewing those older, noir-period shadows that would have made it nostalgic, rather than a brisk, modern update of the brooding ambiguities of many noir films. This one is a treat, a prodigy of neo-noir, and a visual pleasure—and it even includes a joke about Lana Turner.
