Monday, May 21, 2007

Prince of the City [Two-Disc Special Edition]


Director Sidney Lumet had been so remarkably successful with his true-life crime thrillers in the 1970s, "Serpico" (1973) and "Dog Day Afternoon" (1975), that he thought he'd try it one more time with "Prince of the City" in 1981. But "Prince" met with mixed reactions, understandably, as it did not possess the same vitality or spark that the other two pictures enjoyed. For its DVD release in Warner Bros.' "Director's Showcase" series, part two, the studio has spread out the 167-minute movie over two discs for the least amount of compression and the maximum color depth and clarity.

The story is about a real-life New York City cop who went undercover to expose crooked fellow cops and for his efforts found himself the object of investigations. It's a somewhat convoluted narrative that is not easy to follow as it meanders through a number of unspecified years; and the director's attention to specifics gets so detailed and precise that it tends to look like a documentary rather than a thriller. It's kind of an oddball film, actually, that never helps us sympathize with any of its characters, least of all its protagonist.

Although the characters in the film supposedly really existed, the script changes their names. The main character here is Detective Danny Ciello (Treat Williams), the youngest member of an elite division of the force known as the "S.I.U.," the Special Investigative Unit. They are a narcotics unit known for their efficiency in jailing drug dealers. The only trouble is, in bringing down corrupt drug kingpins, they become corrupt themselves. They realize they cannot work within the law with any degree of effectiveness, so they take the law into their own hands. Their favorite weapon: Stealing the drug dealers' money. Without money, the dealers are out of business. Only, the money the cops take from the dealers they split among themselves. They see it as fighting crime--their way--and getting their just rewards.

In an attempt to absolve himself of his sins, to do his penance for years of what his personal moral code tells him is outright theft, Danny decides to cooperate with the Chase Commission, which is investigating dishonest cops.

To be honest, I had a hard time following the plot. Even with all the time available for Lumet to string out the events, there is too much going on to absorb easily. In the first half of the film we see Danny wrestling with his conscience, refusing to cooperate with the Commission, and finally, reluctantly, agreeing to go undercover with a wire, a microphone, and tape record incriminating evidence against cops, lawyers, and hoods. But, as he tells the Commission, he refuses absolutely to do anything to bring harm to his partners. He will only investigate cops other than those he's worked with. In this part of the picture, Danny encounters any number of people played by actors with unrecognizable names and faces. Moreover, the director never makes the time sequencing very clear, this first part of the story seeming to cover several years.

There follows about another quarter of the picture dealing with Danny's bringing all of his evidence to trial, and again the director fails to make the time span clear. Somebody mentions that the trial will last up to twenty-four months, so the film has now covered maybe four-to-five years. In the final quarter of the movie, officials try to go after Danny himself and his pals for their part in police corruption, and, again, we have no idea how much time is going by or who all the characters are that are coming and going.

By the time the movie was over, I was kind of glad. As I say, it is overlong, confusing, a bit muddled with too many characters, and really, really talky. For a crime thriller, there are very few thrills, the plot moving along sometimes at a snail's pace. It has everything but a documentary's narrator, with director Lumet laboring over every detail of the film's accuracy. Naturally, being Lumet, he filmed the movie on location in New York City, and while this adds to the story's gritty realism considerably, so much of it is in places that would be unknown to anyone who didn't live in the city that Lumet might as well have filmed it in Montreal.

Lumet purposely chose actors who were mostly unknowns or lesser-knowns for the lead roles. Treat Williams had only been in a few films prior to this one, so unless you saw "1941," you probably wouldn't have recognized him at the time. Nevertheless, he is good in the part, probably the best performance of his career. But he's no Al Pacino, who had starred in Lumet's "Serpico" and "Dog Day Afternoon." He hasn't Pacino's screen presence, which is a help and a hindrance. As Danny Ciello, Treat Williams becomes the character, no more, no less. He is not bigger than life, as Pacino's characters inevitably are. Williams puts in a totally realistic and commendable portrayal, but people don't necessarily go to the movies to see realistic portrayals of anything. They want melodrama and theatrics. They want somebody like Pacino. If they want realism, they can stay at home and look at the house and family.

There are some other names you might recognize today, though: Lindsay Crouse as Danny's patient, long-suffering wife; Jerry Orbach as Danny's best friend and police partner; Bob Balaban as a prissy, arrogant Federal prosecutor; and Lance Henriksen as a defense attorney.

Unlike Lumet's "Serpico," there is very little tension, suspense, or excitement in "Prince of the City." Unlike "Dog Day Afternoon," there is very little humor in the picture, either. In the end, we learn that practically everyone is corrupt in one way or another. Without a strong hero, without any strong villains, and without an easy message, it's hard for an audience to identify with anything that goes on in the picture. What the "Prince of the City" leaves us with is an appreciation of Lumet's craft, his naturalistic style, and little else.

Director Sidney Lumet had been so remarkably successful with his true-life crime thrillers in the 1970s, "Serpico" (1973) and "Dog Day Afternoon" (1975), that he thought he'd try it one more time with "Prince of the City" in 1981. But "Prince" met with mixed reactions, understandably, as it did not possess the same vitality or spark that the other two pictures enjoyed. For its DVD release in Warner Bros.' "Director's Showcase" series, part two, the studio has spread out the 167-minute movie over two discs for the least amount of compression and the maximum color depth and clarity.

The story is about a real-life New York City cop who went undercover to expose crooked fellow cops and for his efforts found himself the object of investigations. It's a somewhat convoluted narrative that is not easy to follow as it meanders through a number of unspecified years; and the director's attention to specifics gets so detailed and precise that it tends to look like a documentary rather than a thriller. It's kind of an oddball film, actually, that never helps us sympathize with any of its characters, least of all its protagonist.

Although the characters in the film supposedly really existed, the script changes their names. The main character here is Detective Danny Ciello (Treat Williams), the youngest member of an elite division of the force known as the "S.I.U.," the Special Investigative Unit. They are a narcotics unit known for their efficiency in jailing drug dealers. The only trouble is, in bringing down corrupt drug kingpins, they become corrupt themselves. They realize they cannot work within the law with any degree of effectiveness, so they take the law into their own hands. Their favorite weapon: Stealing the drug dealers' money. Without money, the dealers are out of business. Only, the money the cops take from the dealers they split among themselves. They see it as fighting crime--their way--and getting their just rewards.

In an attempt to absolve himself of his sins, to do his penance for years of what his personal moral code tells him is outright theft, Danny decides to cooperate with the Chase Commission, which is investigating dishonest cops.

To be honest, I had a hard time following the plot. Even with all the time available for Lumet to string out the events, there is too much going on to absorb easily. In the first half of the film we see Danny wrestling with his conscience, refusing to cooperate with the Commission, and finally, reluctantly, agreeing to go undercover with a wire, a microphone, and tape record incriminating evidence against cops, lawyers, and hoods. But, as he tells the Commission, he refuses absolutely to do anything to bring harm to his partners. He will only investigate cops other than those he's worked with. In this part of the picture, Danny encounters any number of people played by actors with unrecognizable names and faces. Moreover, the director never makes the time sequencing very clear, this first part of the story seeming to cover several years.

There follows about another quarter of the picture dealing with Danny's bringing all of his evidence to trial, and again the director fails to make the time span clear. Somebody mentions that the trial will last up to twenty-four months, so the film has now covered maybe four-to-five years. In the final quarter of the movie, officials try to go after Danny himself and his pals for their part in police corruption, and, again, we have no idea how much time is going by or who all the characters are that are coming and going.

By the time the movie was over, I was kind of glad. As I say, it is overlong, confusing, a bit muddled with too many characters, and really, really talky. For a crime thriller, there are very few thrills, the plot moving along sometimes at a snail's pace. It has everything but a documentary's narrator, with director Lumet laboring over every detail of the film's accuracy. Naturally, being Lumet, he filmed the movie on location in New York City, and while this adds to the story's gritty realism considerably, so much of it is in places that would be unknown to anyone who didn't live in the city that Lumet might as well have filmed it in Montreal.

Lumet purposely chose actors who were mostly unknowns or lesser-knowns for the lead roles. Treat Williams had only been in a few films prior to this one, so unless you saw "1941," you probably wouldn't have recognized him at the time. Nevertheless, he is good in the part, probably the best performance of his career. But he's no Al Pacino, who had starred in Lumet's "Serpico" and "Dog Day Afternoon." He hasn't Pacino's screen presence, which is a help and a hindrance. As Danny Ciello, Treat Williams becomes the character, no more, no less. He is not bigger than life, as Pacino's characters inevitably are. Williams puts in a totally realistic and commendable portrayal, but people don't necessarily go to the movies to see realistic portrayals of anything. They want melodrama and theatrics. They want somebody like Pacino. If they want realism, they can stay at home and look at the house and family.

There are some other names you might recognize today, though: Lindsay Crouse as Danny's patient, long-suffering wife; Jerry Orbach as Danny's best friend and police partner; Bob Balaban as a prissy, arrogant Federal prosecutor; and Lance Henriksen as a defense attorney.

Unlike Lumet's "Serpico," there is very little tension, suspense, or excitement in "Prince of the City." Unlike "Dog Day Afternoon," there is very little humor in the picture, either. In the end, we learn that practically everyone is corrupt in one way or another. Without a strong hero, without any strong villains, and without an easy message, it's hard for an audience to identify with anything that goes on in the picture. What the "Prince of the City" leaves us with is an appreciation of Lumet's craft, his naturalistic style, and little else.

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