Review by Eric Hillis
Directed by: Gus Van Sant
Starring: Bill Skarsgård, Dacre Montgomery, Al Pacino, Colman Domingo, Myha'la, Cary Elwes, John Robinson
Like the Rebecca Hall vehicle Christine and the recent September 5, Gus Van Sant's Dead Man's Wire is inspired by a sensationalist chapter of 1970s live TV broadcasting. The technical breakthroughs of that decade allowed mobile camera units to broadcast live from the scene of newsworthy events, prompting a race to the bottom in terms of capturing the most sensational and grisly footage possible. In several cases there was a chance that a network could end up broadcasting a murder over the air, and this media bloodlust inspired Don Henley to pen his 1982 hit 'Dirty Laundry'. Van Sant used Henley's song as the de facto theme tune for his 1995 media satire To Die For, and now he goes back to the source of its inspiration.
It's 1977 Indianapolis and Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård) is mad as hell and isn't going to take it anymore. Having taken out a loan with Meridian Mortgage, Tony fell behind on his payments and believes the company is intentionally trying to cheat him out of the plot of land which he believes he can sell for a supermarket development. Storming into Meridian's office, Tony demands to see the company's owner, M.L. Hall (Al Pacino), who is holidaying in Florida. Tony then takes M.L's son Richard (Dacre Montgomery) hostage, attaching a wire around his neck which is linked to the trigger of a shotgun aimed at Richard's head. If Richard tries any sudden movements, the trigger will be pulled. Likewise, should the cops shoot Tony, his fall will activate the trigger.
Thus begins a 63-hour standoff as Tony takes Richard back to his apartment, which he claims has been rigged with explosives, lest the police attempt a siege. Tony wants an apology from M.L. Hall and the sum of $5 million. The authorities promise to get Tony the money, but an apology proves more difficult as M.L. stubbornly refuses to admit any blame, even if it costs the life of his son.
The real life incident sparked a media frenzy with round the clock live coverage of the standoff. Van Sant and cinematographer Arnaud Potier recreate some of the footage that was broadcast using the low quality video cameras of the era. There is something about this low-grade footage that lends Dead Man's Wire a scuzzy quality, preparing us for the possibility that a live action snuff movie is potentially set to be beamed into America's homes, as happened in the infamous cases of Christine Chubbock and R. Bud Dwyer. Much attention is paid to evoking the '70s through costumes, production design and Danny Elfman's Lalo Schifrin-influenced score. Fans of '70s classics like Network and Dog Day Afternoon will likely be seduced by this period fealty to some degree, but it ultimately becomes clear that Van Sant seems more interested in when rather than why this incident occurred.
Though Tony is the film's main character, there is little attempt to get inside his head. Tony and Richard spent most of the ordeal inside the former's apartment, and only those two men know what really occurred during those fraught days and nights. Screenwriter Austin Kolodney's attempts to fill in the blanks are hamstrung by an apparent desire to avoid further sensationalising the incident, and as a result neither Tony nor his hostage are particularly interesting screen characters. Skarsgård's performance is so over the top (he seems to be channelling Warren Oates) that you might assume he's simply mimicking the real life Tony, but the existing footage shows Kiritsis as a much calmer individual.
The run time is padded out with extraneous subplots. In a particularly clichéd storyline, Myha'la plays a young reporter who feels she hasn't been given a fair shot in the business and lucks out by becoming the first member of the media on the scene. Colman Domingo puts his silky voice to good use as Fred Temple, a local DJ who becomes an intermediary between Tony and the authorities, broadcasting the hostage taker's rants over the air on his show. Temple is a reworked version of the real life Fred Heckman, who was a news reader rather than a DJ. The switch seems to have been made solely so Van Sant can soundtrack his film with some funky needle drops. Though built up as if he is set to play a major role in the drama, Temple's contribution ultimately proves minimal. Elsewhere we spend time with various law enforcement figures as they debate how best to end the standoff.
None of the characters are particularly well drawn, and most come off as movie archetypes rather than real people. You can't help but feel Van Sant is more interested in the aesthetics here than the incident itself, that he simply wanted to make a '70s Sidney Lumet movie. It certainly looks like a '70s Lumet movie, but that's where the comparisons end as the drama isn't meaty enough to draw us in beyond the surface level of our curiosity regarding a sensational moment of broadcasting history. If you're a fan of true crime, '70s cinema or jazz funk, there's enough here to keep you superficially engaged, but you may want to seek out the documentary Dead Man's Line for a more satisfying exploration of the central event.
Dead Man's Wire is in UK/ROI cinemas from March 20th.
