The trappings, but not the substance of greatness

Rating: 6/10 (11 August 2005)

This film gets a six from me, largely because of the very strong acting by everyone.
The story...is a cardboard sham of story, a "Chinatown" wannabe, that has unsatisfactory twists and turns, painfully slow beginnings, and ridiculously stereotyped tinging. The heavy hand of "period feel" is everywhere, a reek of over-exertion to make it "sound" right, "look" right. But, it "isn't" right.
A personal yutz of mine is Dudley Smith's referral in a press conference to "DMV". Small point perhaps, but I doubt you can return to that period and find one reference in any publication to DMV as an acronym for Division of Motor Vehicles. In a desire to "make it feel real", I think, they all forgot to "keep it real."
Screenwriter Helgeland credits include Conspiracy Theory, Bloodwork, this film, A Knight's Tale, Payback, The Postman, Mystic River, and Man on Fire. Mostly good, but you can't win them all. But his purposed use of the "F" bomb over and over again, is, for me, out of bounds, for there is no added dramatic affect from it, and, while certainly used back in that period, wasn't used like we hear it used. Also, the constant referral to "whores cut to look like film stars", followed by the somewhat humorous Lana Turner gag was, for me, a huge nothing. So what? The angle that was interesting is the BLACKMAIL (which connects immediately to the DeVito character), the GANGLAND rubouts, and, of course, the MISSING HEROIN. The plastic surgery angle is a total zero.
Bud White's oh, so predictable relationship with the Madam, and the Exley character's pursuit of her was unsupportable and doesn't come off. But, it has to be there, or else the Beefeater Bud White won't see red enough to accept the truth about Exley-Vincennes' findings.
Chinatown is one of the best examples of a period film that seems to have got it right. Perhaps because writer Robert Towne's father-in-law was actor John Payne, who acted in Noir Films under the direction of Phil Karlson (Kansas City Confidential, for one). And, then, too, there was world-class director Roman Polanski to steer the course, who was, at that time, on top of his game and not yet a convicted sex-offender.
Direction in L.A. Confidential is not obvious, and it could have used some. This film wants strong direction, needed to cut out the fat in this screenplay, which I think was about 20 minutes of unnecessary scenes that add nothing to the plot or suspense of the finale.
Six. Not one for the ages, but, again, memorable performances throughout.