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Film
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Criminal
Remember when Kevin Spacey jumped to the fore in Swimming with Sharks and The Usual Suspects? Now, blessedly, it appears to be John C. Reilly’s turn.
Sunday, September 12, 2004
By Todd Gilchrist
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John C. Reilly has milked con artist territory in the past via Paul Thomas Anderson’s low-profile masterpiece Hard Eight, but with his latest film, Criminal, the actor finally comes into his own as a performer for whom there are no boundaries.
Playing an unlikable sod named Richard, who starts his day by conning an old lady out of a few bucks and gets precipitously more depraved from there, Reilly turns that everyman persona of his into a razor-sharp weapon, an instrument by which he can evoke as much suspicion as sympathy, and often at the same time. Cast against type as a scoundrel and dime-store con man who’d just as soon hustle his brother and sister as hug them, Reilly unequivocally demonstrates the range, versatility, and ability that made him such a hot prospect over the last decade, and finally finds him a role that should earn him credibility as a leading man instead of his typical position as second (or even third) banana.
Richard’s day opens unassumingly enough; after saving a bungling hustler named Rodrigo (Diego Luna) from certain apprehension at a local casino, he offers the kid a job as temporary partner. Taking his young protégé under a barb-feathered wing, Richard begins to steep Rodrigo in his stock and trade: conniving folks out of their hard-earned money. What Rodrigo slowly learns, however, is that Richard hardly has everything under as much control as he would like others to think. Like his charge, he’s desperate, broke and willing to dupe anyone – including family and friends – to land that score that will catapult him out of debt.
Miraculously, the pair stumbles across the opportunity of a lifetime, much to the chagrin of Richard’s concierge sister Valerie (Maggie Gyllenhaal), who wants nothing to do with her brother or his seedy cohort. As a former conspirator of Richard’s uncovers his self-drawn reproduction of a priceless piece of antique currency, the master and protégé leap into action, orchestrating an elaborate plot to sell it to a Scottish billionaire (Peter Mullan) right under Valerie’s watchful, disapproving eye.
When Richard realizes later that he needs his sister’s help to make sure all of the pieces of his puzzle fall into place, the unscrupulous schemer brokers a deal that threatens not only to unseat the entire plot, but to destroy his tenuous relationship with Valerie and his brother, who is none the wiser of his longstanding efforts to steal away their family fortune.
Looking back at Reilly’s filmography, it’s hard to imagine how Criminal producers Steven Soderbergh and George Clooney could have predicted that the actor would do so well as an unconscionable bastard; in Boogie Nights, Magnolia, The Perfect Storm, The Good Girl, and even way back with Days of Thunder, fecklessness becomes almost all of his characters, who are thoroughly likeable but lack certain essential characteristics - such as a spine. These qualities catapult his portrayals beyond the realm of dedicated character acting into the same kind of scene-stealing showmanship that helped pushed supporting performers like Kevin Spacey into the limelight.
In Criminal, Richard is not simply content to take center stage, he doesn’t want anyone else up there performing with him, and it’s a small marvel of Reilly’s performance that room still exists for the other performers to flex their own acting muscles and preserve the feeling that Criminal is not simply a one-man show.
Reilly commits to his characters not with the single-minded attention of a Gary Oldman or Tim Roth type, tracing the beats of villainy with a bass drum and relishing the animated performance that results. Instead, he humanizes their foibles - no matter how irresponsible or unforgivable they may seem - and creates an indelible portrait of con artistry that feels begotten from desperation rather than dexterous avoidance of work.
During a recent interview with FilmStew, Reilly said that he saw Richard “as sort of an underachiever and an overachiever at the same time; he would fail at school but he would be the guy who was selling tickets to the concert.” The actor makes it easy to identify with a guy who finds a narrow window of ability in his seemingly directionless life and follows it down an inevitable path towards self-destruction.
Thankfully, however, these measures are not played for comedy or tragedy, but matter-of-factly, and Reilly casts Richard in a unique light as a protagonist who isn’t a hero, but also isn’t quite the villain we wish to see endure a painful or even completely deserved comeuppance.
The film’s supporting cast dutifully abets Reilly in his theft of the film, mostly because they’re all wise enough to leave the weight of the film in his stable grip. As if understanding that it’s the bit player’s first major lead role, Luna, Gyllenhaal and the remainder of the actors support his abject control of the film, and ultimately play the audience’s expectations of good and bad against themselves, much to the benefit of the film.
| Luna, who was sorely lacking as a sleazy computer hacker in last month’s Nicotina, redeems himself in this remake of the 2000 Argentinian film Nine Queens as Rodrigo, playing up his boyish innocence to good effect for a con artist who “looks like a nice guy,” while Gyllenhaal displays a febrile energy that makes for a believable and shattering showdown between Valerie and Richard.
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Clearly the victim of an older brother who’s enjoyed a lifetime of exploitation and antagonism against her, Valerie is mightily pissed off at Richard and cannot stand to be around him, much less coerce her into complicity with his latest scam. Gyllenhaal gives this indignation a righteous fury that miraculously seems to weigh Richard down even when she isn’t around, and the actress proves she can hold her own against elder statesmen of the moviemaking community.
Although I never saw Nine Queens, I was instantly captivated by Gregory Jacobs’ approach to material that seems familiar even without the benefit of knowing it’s a remake. Perhaps it’s because the con artist genre, with its ins, outs and double-crosses, has forged a sort of cinematic shorthand for the grift, or perhaps it’s because I’m a natural fan of seeing suckers get their just desserts.
| Then again, maybe it’s simply due to John C. Reilly who, regardless of genre, always convincingly takes us into his confidence, gently pilfers away our money, but ultimately leaves us completely satisfied. Criminal may be about bad guys, but Reilly makes the whole sordid affair feel really good. | |
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