e's a Perry Mason for the '90s -- a publicity hound who defends all manner of lowlife and never loses. His client , an altar boy (well, youth) with a Kentucky twang is accused of murdering, in most grotesque fashion, the Archbishop of Chicago. The prosecutor is a smart-talking, curvaceous blonde who used to be involved with -- guess who? We've got a corrupt State's Attorney, sexual perversion of the "I-like-to-watch" variety, chopped-off fingers, gouged-out eyes, bodies in the river, multiple personality disorder. And it's "based on a best-selling novel."
It should have been sent straight to video. As a courtroom drama, it stumbles from one ludicrous howler to another. Were the movie's "legal technical advisers" on another planet while the
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rest of the world was learning about legal procedure courtesy of the O.J. trial? At other times, the phrase "white elephant" kept coming to mind. Astoundingly dull aerial shots meander through like misplanned freeways that end up going nowhere. Various subplots pop up and disappear, rather like government make-work programs that involve the digging of holes, followed by the refilling of same. In fact, that is one of the subplots. Did the wrong celluloid wind up on the cutting room floor? And multiple personality disorder? Man, that is old , and as most of us know by know, usually utter b.s. The "shocking plot twist?" At the screening I attended, the not especially demanding audience had it figured out several steps ahead of our hero.
The title, "Primal Fear," is one of those come-ons (like "Basic Instinct") that only a marketing executive could love. But you can't blame the movie makers for that. It's the title of the strictly grade-B potboiler by William Diehl, on which the movie is based. And Diehl is no Scott Turow, nor John Grisham for that matter. His characters and dialogue are strictly of the cartoon variety. In that respect, the script by Steve Shagan ("Save the Tiger") and Ann Biderman is an improvement. So is Richard Gere, who at least tries to give some wit and depth to Diehl's strictly one-dimensional lawyer-hero, Martin Vail. His reading glasses are pretty cool, too. Laura Linney as prosecutor Janet Venables gets off some good one-liners against the cocksure Vail ("Worried about rubbing up against a woman with brains, for a change?"). And we will likely be seeing more of newcomer Edward Norton, who is by turns angelic and chilling as the altar boy with inner secrets
Frances McDormand, fresh from her triumph in "Fargo," doesn't advance her career much as the defense psychologist. Neither does Andre Braugher (Det. Frank Pembleton in "Homicide") as Gere's sidekick-investigator. Another television character, John Mahoney, so delicious as "Frasier's" irascible father, rapidly sinks into the morass here as the corrupt State Attorney.
But the biggest loser -- apart from the audience -- is director Gregory Hoblit, an Emmy-award winning honcho behind hits like "Hill Street Blues," "NYPD Blues," and the early "L.A. Law." Looking for his big-screen breakout, Hoblit instead has taken a giant step backwards -- away from the adult scripting, tight story lines, absorbing characters and genuine drama these and other shows like "Law and Order" and "Homicide" bequeathed to the small screen. "Primal Fear," with all its pap, is another compelling argument to stay home.