The Salton Sea
dir. D.J. Caruso
Warner Bros.
Movies about junkies tend to be dull, because the junkie experience of life is nothing but the
endless repetition of the same vicious circle: score; get high; come down; repeat. Not a whole lot
of drama to offer there. So it is quite an achievement that The Salton Sea manages to make
the lives of junkies not merely interesting, but hilarious and terrifying as well.
In the film, Val Kilmer plays a luckless former trumpet player named either Danny Parker or
Tom Van Allen, depending on who you ask, who spends his life happily getting high on crystal
meth with a group of acquaintances. The banality and delusion of this lifestyle is illustrated with
great wit by Danny/Tom's voiceover narration. At first the film seems to be an exploration of this
lifestyle, but with time the audience learns that something very different is going on. It turns out
that Val Kilmer's character is on a mission of vengeance for the murder of his wife near the Salton
Sea, a massive lake in Southern California.
How he conceives and accomplishes that vengeance is the framework of the movie, one that
involves the usual number of twists, turns, reversals and revelations of varying degrees of
plausibility.
As the movie speeds toward its end, the artificiality of the plot and its contrivances
threatens to exhaust the viewer's indulgence. For example, the movie sets up the murder of
Kilmer's wife by having them both got lost in the vicinity of the Salton Sea. Yet a glance at a
map would tell you that's impossible. There's a freeway that goes down each side of the Sea,
and that's it. There's nowhere to get lost. Likewise, the identification of the killer hinges,
literally, on a hair. And this is another one of those movies where the protagonist "dies" so many
times that you wind up wishing he would stay dead.
Yet for all that, the movie absolutely transcends the limitations of its creaking plot, mostly on
the strength of a superb cast. There is not one supporting character in the film who fails to deliver
a knockout performance. Peter Sarsgaard, as Kilmer's junkie best friend, creates a character who is
both hopeless and wise, needy and shrewd, witty and tongue-tied all at once. This complexity
blossoms in one memorable scene toward the end where a moment of surprising tenderness
between him and Kilmer occurs, a moment that doesn't have a hint of sentimentality or artifice
about it. B.D. Wong, who plays the rather fey Catholic priest on "Oz," is unrecognizable —
and utterly believable — as a taciturn, steely meth buyer. Kilmer himself delivers a low-key
performance that is just right. He is distant and ironic without being "ironic," yet is entirely
convincing as someone driven by passion and loss. His pouty insouciance for once works in synergy
with his character rather than undermining it, as in so many other of his films.
But the best performance by far in the film belongs to Vincent D'Onofrio, who portrays a meth dealer
named Pooh Bear, so named because he's missing his nose. D'Onofrio plays the character not just as a
one-dimensional monster of violence, as so many similar characters are played in other movies, but
adds layer upon layer of creepiness until you almost can't stand to be in the same movie theater
with him. Rarely, if ever, since Dennis Hopper's turn in Blue Velvet has there been such a
disturbing yet brilliant performance. The richness and complexity of each character in the film,
the fully realized nature of their personalities and relations with one another, is what anchors
it in a reality that connects with the audience, leading it into an unimaginable world.
The Salton Sea owns several different genres and styles without ever being owned
by any of them. The film is noir, but is never captured by the desire to seem noir. It's
Tarantinoesque without seeming to remember who he is. It's a junkie melodrama that doesn't much care
for its peer group. It's a tale of therapeutic redemption that seems indifferent to the outcome.
It is this detachment from its sources that prevents The Salton Sea from
congealing into derivative kitsch or exploding into hyperventilating self-importance.
It's no surprise director D.J. Caruso has also worked on F/X's series "The Shield," a
show with many of the same qualities. He is clearly a man to watch, as is Tony Gayton, whose
script reveals a great talent for unnerving the audience (for example, you are guaranteed never
to want to be anywhere near a badger after seeing this movie). The Salton Sea offers that
rare treat in filmgoing: a movie that is both excruciating and mesmerizing.
— Niall Lynch (suomilad at yahoo dot com)
