And The Crap Hits The Fan, Big-Time, In The City Of Angels

Rating: 4/10 (1 August 2014)

For starters - I'm sorry to say, but I did not immediately fall in love with Kim Basinger (as I know I was expected to) the very second she first stepped into the camera's view.
Nor did I ever warm-up to Basinger's whore-with-a-heart-of-gold character as this film's story boldly forged ahead towards its cornball and clichéd "happy" ending.
The thing with Basinger was that she was 44 years old at the time of this picture and no matter how much the camera (and the make-up artists) tried to hide this fact - Let's face it, Basinger was about 20 years too old for her part as a high-class hooker who didn't (but was supposed to) resemble 1950's movie-actress, Veronica Lake.
And then there was Russell Crowe's character, Bud White, the tough-as-nails, no-nonsense cop (with a hair-trigger temper) whose modus operandi was to kick, punch, (and/or) shoot the suspect(s) first, then ask questions later.
What really killed me about Bud was how he fancied himself to be a gallant crusader for battered women, yet, when it came right down to it, he was just as prone to punch and slap a woman around, just like any other hot-blooded, hypocritical, all-American male.
L.A. Confidential's biggest downfall was apparent in the way that its story clearly lacked an essential, underlying tightness. It continually showed absolutely no restraint, at all, when it came to the unbelievable corruption, brutality (and whatever) that prevailed in L.A.'s police force (in the 1950s) that went all the way up to the District Attorney.
With one bare-faced lie being recklessly heaped upon another, L.A. Confidential's story got itself so bogged down with inane double-crosses, forced confessions and treacherous finger-pointing that, before long, it gave me one helluva splitting headache.
At 2 hours and 20 minutes this Film Noir "wannabe" seriously cried out for some immediate attention in the editing department.