That's true, which is why the movie stands up under (and even invites) multiple viewings. But at times you get the feeling that "The Usual Suspects" is too self-consciously clever for its own good, starting with the title. If you consider the context of the famous "Casablanca" allusion, that line is spoken near the film's end. Nightclub owner Rick is at the airport saying goodbye to his old flame and the leader of the resistance she married. When a Nazi major tries to stop them, Rick shoots and kills him. Moments later, the police arrive, and to save Rick's life, his old friend and chief of police tells the officers, "Round up the usual suspects." It was pure diversion and sleight-of-hand--as is this film, especially if you consider that it begins where "Casablanca" left off.
Here, the usual suspects are rounded up in one of the early sequences, and viewers become like those French gendarmes who've been deliberately sent off in the wrong direction. As the narrative bounces back and forth between the past, recent past, and present, viewers are asked to try to make sense of it all, like the police. "I wanna know why 27 men died for 91 million dollars worth of dope that wasn't there" onboard a ship that became the site of a deadly shoot-out, the sergeant says. Who is killing whom, and why? Is it all drug-related, or is it bigger than that? Is a never-seen crime kingpin named Keyser Soze involved, or is he just a myth? Compounding the challenge is that the narrator might be unreliable. Nothing is terribly clear for much of the film, which asks that readers be patient and take one clue at a time. Are we being had? Well, before "Pulp Fiction," the answer might have been "yes." Since then, though, viewers have become used to challenging films that fragmentize and deliberately rearrange the narrative so that it forces us all to work harder to understand what's going on. Just don't work too hard, because the ending might lead you right back where you started.
Kevin Spacey won a Best Supporting Actor for his role as the "gimpy" petty criminal who's rounded up with four other felons and ex-cons after a truck loaded with gun parts turns up missing. That was the recent past, but because we also see them involved in the present-time fiasco aboard that burning ship in the harbor, we're left trying to piece together how they got from point P to point Z, and speculate on how anyone got to P in the first place. There's police corruption related to the drug trade and drug lords that we're plenty challenged to
The narrator is Verbal Kint (a name so heavy-handed and loaded with meaning that it could have appeared in an Ian Fleming novel), and Spacey plays the kind of low-life we normally associate with snitches and narcs. He doesn't have full use of his hands, his feet cross over themselves so that it's hard for him to walk, and he's the type that, in prison, would have been somebody's "girlfriend." Interrogating him much of the time are two cops--a determined custom's officer named Dave Kujan (Chazz Palminteri) and a tough sergeant named Jeffrey Rabin (Dan Hedaya).
The four men who are brought in for questioning are McManus (Stephen Baldwin), a top-notch entry man who's a little crazy; McManus' partner Fenster (Benicio del Toro), a latino who speaks English so fast and so butchered that the cops think he's using Spanish; Hockney (Kevin Pollak), the explosives expert who doesn't care about anything; and Keaton (Gabriel Byrne), the former cop who did time in prison for murder and may or may not be trying to go straight now. At first we think they're rounded up randomly, then we think it was fate. Finally, we learn it wasn't fate at all, but a very deliberate attempt to get the men together for a number of specific "jobs," each one more difficult and explosive than the other.
Here, the usual suspects are rounded up in one of the early sequences, and viewers become like those French gendarmes who've been deliberately sent off in the wrong direction. As the narrative bounces back and forth between the past, recent past, and present, viewers are asked to try to make sense of it all, like the police. "I wanna know why 27 men died for 91 million dollars worth of dope that wasn't there" onboard a ship that became the site of a deadly shoot-out, the sergeant says. Who is killing whom, and why? Is it all drug-related, or is it bigger than that? Is a never-seen crime kingpin named Keyser Soze involved, or is he just a myth? Compounding the challenge is that the narrator might be unreliable. Nothing is terribly clear for much of the film, which asks that readers be patient and take one clue at a time. Are we being had? Well, before "Pulp Fiction," the answer might have been "yes." Since then, though, viewers have become used to challenging films that fragmentize and deliberately rearrange the narrative so that it forces us all to work harder to understand what's going on. Just don't work too hard, because the ending might lead you right back where you started.
Kevin Spacey won a Best Supporting Actor for his role as the "gimpy" petty criminal who's rounded up with four other felons and ex-cons after a truck loaded with gun parts turns up missing. That was the recent past, but because we also see them involved in the present-time fiasco aboard that burning ship in the harbor, we're left trying to piece together how they got from point P to point Z, and speculate on how anyone got to P in the first place. There's police corruption related to the drug trade and drug lords that we're plenty challenged to
The narrator is Verbal Kint (a name so heavy-handed and loaded with meaning that it could have appeared in an Ian Fleming novel), and Spacey plays the kind of low-life we normally associate with snitches and narcs. He doesn't have full use of his hands, his feet cross over themselves so that it's hard for him to walk, and he's the type that, in prison, would have been somebody's "girlfriend." Interrogating him much of the time are two cops--a determined custom's officer named Dave Kujan (Chazz Palminteri) and a tough sergeant named Jeffrey Rabin (Dan Hedaya).
The four men who are brought in for questioning are McManus (Stephen Baldwin), a top-notch entry man who's a little crazy; McManus' partner Fenster (Benicio del Toro), a latino who speaks English so fast and so butchered that the cops think he's using Spanish; Hockney (Kevin Pollak), the explosives expert who doesn't care about anything; and Keaton (Gabriel Byrne), the former cop who did time in prison for murder and may or may not be trying to go straight now. At first we think they're rounded up randomly, then we think it was fate. Finally, we learn it wasn't fate at all, but a very deliberate attempt to get the men together for a number of specific "jobs," each one more difficult and explosive than the other.
That's true, which is why the movie stands up under (and even invites) multiple viewings. But at times you get the feeling that "The Usual Suspects" is too self-consciously clever for its own good, starting with the title. If you consider the context of the famous "Casablanca" allusion, that line is spoken near the film's end. Nightclub owner Rick is at the airport saying goodbye to his old flame and the leader of the resistance she married. When a Nazi major tries to stop them, Rick shoots and kills him. Moments later, the police arrive, and to save Rick's life, his old friend and chief of police tells the officers, "Round up the usual suspects." It was pure diversion and sleight-of-hand--as is this film, especially if you consider that it begins where "Casablanca" left off.
Here, the usual suspects are rounded up in one of the early sequences, and viewers become like those French gendarmes who've been deliberately sent off in the wrong direction. As the narrative bounces back and forth between the past, recent past, and present, viewers are asked to try to make sense of it all, like the police. "I wanna know why 27 men died for 91 million dollars worth of dope that wasn't there" onboard a ship that became the site of a deadly shoot-out, the sergeant says. Who is killing whom, and why? Is it all drug-related, or is it bigger than that? Is a never-seen crime kingpin named Keyser Soze involved, or is he just a myth? Compounding the challenge is that the narrator might be unreliable. Nothing is terribly clear for much of the film, which asks that readers be patient and take one clue at a time. Are we being had? Well, before "Pulp Fiction," the answer might have been "yes." Since then, though, viewers have become used to challenging films that fragmentize and deliberately rearrange the narrative so that it forces us all to work harder to understand what's going on. Just don't work too hard, because the ending might lead you right back where you started.
Kevin Spacey won a Best Supporting Actor for his role as the "gimpy" petty criminal who's rounded up with four other felons and ex-cons after a truck loaded with gun parts turns up missing. That was the recent past, but because we also see them involved in the present-time fiasco aboard that burning ship in the harbor, we're left trying to piece together how they got from point P to point Z, and speculate on how anyone got to P in the first place. There's police corruption related to the drug trade and drug lords that we're plenty challenged to
The narrator is Verbal Kint (a name so heavy-handed and loaded with meaning that it could have appeared in an Ian Fleming novel), and Spacey plays the kind of low-life we normally associate with snitches and narcs. He doesn't have full use of his hands, his feet cross over themselves so that it's hard for him to walk, and he's the type that, in prison, would have been somebody's "girlfriend." Interrogating him much of the time are two cops--a determined custom's officer named Dave Kujan (Chazz Palminteri) and a tough sergeant named Jeffrey Rabin (Dan Hedaya).
The four men who are brought in for questioning are McManus (Stephen Baldwin), a top-notch entry man who's a little crazy; McManus' partner Fenster (Benicio del Toro), a latino who speaks English so fast and so butchered that the cops think he's using Spanish; Hockney (Kevin Pollak), the explosives expert who doesn't care about anything; and Keaton (Gabriel Byrne), the former cop who did time in prison for murder and may or may not be trying to go straight now. At first we think they're rounded up randomly, then we think it was fate. Finally, we learn it wasn't fate at all, but a very deliberate attempt to get the men together for a number of specific "jobs," each one more difficult and explosive than the other.
Here, the usual suspects are rounded up in one of the early sequences, and viewers become like those French gendarmes who've been deliberately sent off in the wrong direction. As the narrative bounces back and forth between the past, recent past, and present, viewers are asked to try to make sense of it all, like the police. "I wanna know why 27 men died for 91 million dollars worth of dope that wasn't there" onboard a ship that became the site of a deadly shoot-out, the sergeant says. Who is killing whom, and why? Is it all drug-related, or is it bigger than that? Is a never-seen crime kingpin named Keyser Soze involved, or is he just a myth? Compounding the challenge is that the narrator might be unreliable. Nothing is terribly clear for much of the film, which asks that readers be patient and take one clue at a time. Are we being had? Well, before "Pulp Fiction," the answer might have been "yes." Since then, though, viewers have become used to challenging films that fragmentize and deliberately rearrange the narrative so that it forces us all to work harder to understand what's going on. Just don't work too hard, because the ending might lead you right back where you started.
Kevin Spacey won a Best Supporting Actor for his role as the "gimpy" petty criminal who's rounded up with four other felons and ex-cons after a truck loaded with gun parts turns up missing. That was the recent past, but because we also see them involved in the present-time fiasco aboard that burning ship in the harbor, we're left trying to piece together how they got from point P to point Z, and speculate on how anyone got to P in the first place. There's police corruption related to the drug trade and drug lords that we're plenty challenged to
The narrator is Verbal Kint (a name so heavy-handed and loaded with meaning that it could have appeared in an Ian Fleming novel), and Spacey plays the kind of low-life we normally associate with snitches and narcs. He doesn't have full use of his hands, his feet cross over themselves so that it's hard for him to walk, and he's the type that, in prison, would have been somebody's "girlfriend." Interrogating him much of the time are two cops--a determined custom's officer named Dave Kujan (Chazz Palminteri) and a tough sergeant named Jeffrey Rabin (Dan Hedaya).
The four men who are brought in for questioning are McManus (Stephen Baldwin), a top-notch entry man who's a little crazy; McManus' partner Fenster (Benicio del Toro), a latino who speaks English so fast and so butchered that the cops think he's using Spanish; Hockney (Kevin Pollak), the explosives expert who doesn't care about anything; and Keaton (Gabriel Byrne), the former cop who did time in prison for murder and may or may not be trying to go straight now. At first we think they're rounded up randomly, then we think it was fate. Finally, we learn it wasn't fate at all, but a very deliberate attempt to get the men together for a number of specific "jobs," each one more difficult and explosive than the other.
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