M  O  V  I  E  S   |   “A  L  B  I  N  O    A  L  L  I  G  A  T  O  R”

B Y  G A R Y  K A M I Y A

the crime writer James Ellroy says that there's only one real film noir plot — the bungled heist. It's not hard to see why screenwriters are drawn to this particular narrative contrivance: with bleeding tough guys trapped in a tight space, the water's already at a rolling boil, and all you have to do is add a couple of fresh-frozen characters and a packet of formulaic plot-wrinkle seasoning and — voila! — instant movie. The modern classic in this venerable genre is Quentin Tarantino's "Reservoir Dogs," a less stylish but more morally coherent work than his more celebrated "Pulp Fiction." Considering the ludicrous deification of this one-and-a-half-hit wonder, it's not surprising that another movie about a bungled heist, complete with the requisite hipster criminal and his psychopathic sidekick, should pop up. Unfortunately, "Albino Alligator," while reasonably suspenseful (if you can't get suspense out of this setup, you got problems) and not without heart, possesses neither the postmodern zaniness of "Reservoir Dogs" nor its taut, innovative plot. Kevin Spacey's uneven directorial debut can't transcend the script's triteness, and ends up squandering above-average performances by Matt Dillon, Gary Sinise and Faye Dunaway. As the film opens, Federal agents are staking out a mysterious French-Canadian arms dealer, Guy; Guy (Viggo Mortensen) spots them watching him and switches cars, throwing them momentarily off his trail. At the same time, three small-time punks (Dillon, Sinise and William Fichtner) set off an alarm in a building and flee. After a car chase in which two officers are killed and Sinise is gravely injured, they take refuge in a former speakeasy, a below-street-level joint whose decor hasn't changed since Prohibition. There are five patrons in the bar: two older men (one the bar owner); a tough, worldly woman bartender with a heart of gold (Dunaway); an innocent young guy; and a quiet man in a suit. Unfortunately for the punks, the quiet man is none other than the big French-Canadian fish, who has also ended up hiding in the bar. As a consequence of this, about 500 Federal agents and police shortly arrive on the scene, making escape by any means other than hostage-taking pretty much impossible. The leader of the three stooges, Dova (Dillon), belongs to that well-known and increasingly tiresome Hollywood type: The Hip, Ironic, Dudely Bank Robber From Outer Space. This breed, whose froggie archetype was Jean-Paul Belmondo's Gauloise-sucking killer in "Breathless" and whose American exemplar is Steve Buscemi's wispy-goateed "I-don't-tip" hipster in the aforementioned "Reservoir Dogs," has about the same relationship to reality as do the barechested male models with waist-length hair and $6,000 suits in "Details." I know, I know, they're cinematic creations and everything, but guys who are constantly cracking wise in this dry postmodern way and who look like they spend their free time listening to Nino Rota while drinking Cosmos in red bars with amoeba-shaped tables simply don't pack heat, OK? Dillon, to be fair, is a little more gritty, working-class and plausible than that, and the Tarantino-esque wisecracks and hints of a vaguely wacky aura fade into a fairly straight style. Dova is a lost bad guy, alternately tough and tender-hearted. Dillon plays him with characteristic passion, but at times Dova's vacillations seem ungrounded and implausible, his uncertainties writ a bit too large. Those uncertainties are exacerbated by the predictable presence of Law (Fichtner), your basic snarling, tattooed, "let's-kill-'em-all-now" sociopath, and the less predictable presence of Dova's wounded brother Milo (Sinise), a crook with a tortured conscience. Sinise impressively conveys the inextricable blending of weakness and strength in Milo's character. Guy, who has his own agenda, suggests that the criminals try to escape by pretending they are hostages. They almost embrace this highly improbable plan, until Guy's picture appears on the TV screen. A couple of broken fingers later, Guy confesses who he is. This gives them a horrible new idea: if they kill everyone, including Guy, they will come off as heroes and no one will be around to contradict them. Janet (played with a kind of weary, C&W soulfulness by Dunaway, who unfortunately isn't given enough latitude to make a real impact) and the others beg for their lives; there follows a conclusion which I will not reveal, except to say that it is ungrounded, implausible and disappointing. "Albino Alligator" is essentially a play — a one-acter in a superheated setting about one man's moral crisis. Unfortunately, it's so busy being a thriller that it doesn't explore that inward struggle with sufficient depth. Psychologically, it feels rushed: One minute Dillon is playing pool with the kid, the next moment he's getting ready to shoot everybody. This helter-skelter quality reflects the moral chaos of real life, but it works against a more profound consideration of character. Dillon's anguish comes and goes so quickly that we don't have time to reflect on it. "Albino Alligator" could have been a decent psychological portrait; it ends up being a fairly weak thriller. A R C H I V E S Movie Archive | Previous 5 reviews: "Citizen Ruth" By Nell Bernstein (1/06/96) "Evita" By Laura Miller (12/23/96) "Beavis and Butt-head Do America" By Gary Kamiya (12/23/96) "Ghosts of Mississippi" By Charles Taylor (12/23/96) "The People Vs. Larry Flynt" By Charles Taylor (12/23/96) "One Fine Day" By Stephanie Zacharek (12/16/96)