Freakshow
This just in: Jennifer Lopez has signed with NBC to
star in a music special in the fall and executive
produce a sitcom based on her life growing up in the
Bronx. It might seem a strange career move, given all
the ballyhoo about Lopez's recent triumphs at the box
office (The Wedding Planner opened well, despite bad
reviews) and the music charts (J. Lo is still in
play). But after seeing Angel Eyes, you might think
again. In fact, her return to the small screen might
be just the ticket for the former Fly Girl. That, or
get some seriously good advice in selecting her next
movie script.
As Sharon Pogue, Lopez is supposed to be a tough
South Side Chicago cop, that is, she hammers back
shots with the boy cops, but looks great in her white
t-shirt while doing so. But while Sharon is good at
her job, she's also struggling with a few personal
demons, having to do with her father Carl's (Victor
Argo) longtime abuse of her mother Josephine (a
scandalously underused Sonia Braga). This history has
inevitable effects on the next generation: Sharon's
construction worker brother Larry (Jeremy Sisto)
abuses his pretty blond wife, and Sharon is herself
inclined to "excessive force." When she's arresting a
skinhead street punk and he calls her filthy names,
wiggling his tongue in that charming way that movie
street punks have, then asking her for "one sweet
touch," Sharon slams his skinhead against the cruiser
repeatedly and twists his arm. Her partner Robby
(Terrence Howard) looks on with a mix of awe and
concern, as if he's thinking, "Hmmm, this aggression
is unwarranted and she's messed up, but then again,
foul-mouthed perps deserve what they get."
Sharon's troubles are familiar, for sure: she's
another in a long line of beautiful but damaged girl
cops with domestic violence backgrounds. Recall
Kathryn Bigelow's relatively subtle Blue Steel,
where Jamie Lee Curtis was dealing with a psycho
killer as well as her co-dependent parents, or Diane
Russell-Simone (Kim Delaney), queen of the
melodramatic story arc in NYPD Blue (come to think
of it, the beleaguered-alcoholic-widowed-abused Diane
makes Sharon look like a crybaby). This sort of
character tends to be harassed by everyone, not only
big-lunky criminals, but also her co-workers and her
"dates." This point is made repeatedly in Angel Eyes: Sharon's male buddies tease her about her lack
of makeup (a bit that is patently ridiculous, because
La Lopez is fabulously made up in every frame of
this film), or in her anonymous pretty-boy date's
relentlessly vicarious questioning: what's it like to
be "out there," to be "catching bad guys"? Sheesh, no
wonder she heads home to her tiny apartment, strips
off her slinky black dress, and slips into her snuggly
kevlar vest -- being a cop is her best defense against
all the idiots who surround her. (The other, likely
primary reason for this post-date image of Lopez in
her underwear, of course, is to show off her bounteous
beauty.)
But if Sharon sees her "masculine" deportment as
self-defense, the movie is not about to let her off
the gen der-bending hook so easily. No, the only way
she can be truly happy is to learn to be a girl,
vulnerable and soft, kind and endlessly forgiving.
This is not to say that she hasn't already absorbed
plenty of stereotypically feminine attitudes. Sharon
is certainly suffering from the passive-aggressive
tactics of her brother and mother, who entreat her to
"forgive" her father, but the real manipulative genius
is Carl, unseen until near the end of the film and
refusing to forgive her, because 10 years ago, she
called the cops when he was beating Josephine. Sharon,
good daughter that she is, feels bad, even though she
sort of understands that she did the right thing.
She's unable to forgive herself for her confusion.
That's why she beats up skinheads.
If Luis (Message in a Bottle) Mandoki's movie is
about anything, it's about healing. Sharon's process
is jump-started (not exactly convincingly) when she
meets a mysterious, mournful-looking stalker named
Catch (Jim Caviezel). Literally, he's stalking Sharon,
a stranger in a shabby overcoat with a penchant for
watching her from across the street. During one such
session, a driveby shooter takes out several cops in
the diner where they're eating. Unharmed, Sharon and
Robby take off after the bad guys, running down the
wet streets (all streets are wet in cop movies). When
she's subsequently ambushed in an abandoned building,
Catch arrives on the scene just in time to save her
from being shot in the head (though she is hit in that
vest of hers, leaving a nasty and way-symbolic purple
bruise over her heart).
She's disturbed by this guy watching her, but also
intrigued that he risked his life for her. And so she
starts talking with him. If you didn't have
information that she doesn't, you'd see this as a
really terrible idea: Catch is pretty but he is
clearly wacky. But you do know that he has a
connection to her, formed a year previous to their
meeting, when he was a car wreck victim whom Sharon
saved by getting him to "stay with" her, by staying
focused on -- what else? -- her "angel eyes." This is
actually the first scene in the film, though you don't
see Catch, only take his point of view, wandering over
the cop car lights, almost going unconscious, then
looking at those eyes before passing out in a great
"white light" flash. Sharon has no memory of his face
(it was dark and he was bloody, after all), so she has
no notion of the connection. And so, it's hard to make
sense of her lapses in judgment once she hooks up with
this guy, who's part abusive, part ethereal, and part
incomprehensible.
Catch's car-wreck connection to Sharon is hammered
home by repeated flashbacks to the accident scene.
These flashbacks are usually intercut with some
"difficult" present moment, of which he has plenty
(his bizarre habits include going through Sharon's
underwear drawers and keeping his kitchen drawers full
of kids' action figures: when she discovers him in
such situations, he acts like she's the problem). You
also see Catch's current situation as Sharon does not:
he lives alone in a dark, unfurnished apartment, and
exchanges solemn glances with the little boy who lives
next door to him in a shabby apartment building. These
scenes, combined with those showing Sharon's own
haphazard personal life, suggest that Catch and Sharon
are made for each other, two lost souls who might help
one another, "fated" to meet in the way that a couple
might be in a movie directed by Luis Mandoki, the man
responsible for the preposterously goopy Message in a Bottle.
Once this romance begins, Angel Eyes's already
minimal logic just goes all to heck. Catch starts to
look like a nice guy unable to cope with diurnal
details (like buying furniture), and Sharon abandons
her previously established "instincts" (her tough-girl
posturing and defensive isolation), falls in some kind
of needy-love (indicated by a series of just awful
pop-music-enhanced "romance" montages), and then
sleeps with this guy. The romance structure suggests
that theirs is a regular movie romance, each is
allotted a confidante so you can hear what they're
thinking (because they couldn't possibly tell one
another what they're thinking!) His is a woman in a
wheelchair (Shirley Knight) to whom he delivers
groceries and in whom he confides his happiness at
meeting Sharon, as well as his nervousness about
pursuing her. Hers is Robby, whom she tells about
feeling horny, specifically, that she's looking to
"clean [someone's] pipe" (man, she's really tough!),
feeling frustrated on the job, and even feeling
confused about Catch. When Catch does behave badly --
as he must because he's so very sensitive and so very
wounded -- she tells her partner. Robby gets that "I
told you so" look, then calls him "Freakshow," and
warns her to be careful.
The movie encourages you to share Robby's sense of
apprehension, representing Catch as if he might be
otherworldly or at least unstable and untrustworthy,
mainly through disjointed scripting (by Gerald Di
Pego) and cinematographer Piotr Sobocinski's dreamy,
intensely subjective images. But the film is also
working against a potential Ghost-City of Angels
grain, trying to look at the more ordinary ways that
people connect and disconnect, hurt and forgive each
other and themselves. While this sounds like a good
idea, Angel Eyes does not "stay with" it. Instead,
it settles for wan formula.