'The Nice Guys': The Case of the Dueling Detectives
First of all, you should know that most of the people who meet their untimely and often gruesome demise in director Shane Black's wacky combination of comedy and murder are bad.
Still, it takes a little getting used to the seesaw temperament in this throwback buddy movie dialed up to today's cynicism. But thanks to Black's smart tempo and the fine chemistry Russell Crowe and Ryan Gosling conjure as nuttily contrasting private eyes, it works.
Debating if it's OK to laugh as the body count rises, you ultimately decide in favor of mirth. Set in that "L.A. Confidential" (1997), "Chinatown" (1974) kind of West Coast, film noir nihilism, things in "The Nice Guys" get suspicious when porn star Misty Mountains (Murielle Telio) kicks off the succession of curious deaths. It looks like an accident, maybe a suicide, but we're not so sure, and before long, detectives Holland March and Jackson Healy, who just so happen to be working on somewhat related cases, are wont to share our inclination.
It'll take a while to get to the nub of why those who know too much are being rubbed out ... but that's just the right amount of time for the stylistically disparate gumshoes to sing a chorus or two of "Getting to Know You." Naturally, they banter, break a few of each other's bones, criticize lifestyles and almost get killed themselves before realizing that a belligerent symbiosis might benefit them both. An "Odd Couple" with guns, brass knuckles and a violence filled past they're not especially proud of, their partnership leads to discovery, personal and professional.
Superb timing on the part of both actors, smartly melded with time-honored cues from the genre their performances astutely explore, quickly ingratiates them to us. Gosling's March is the educated one, a bit polished, a single parent and living with the memory of a tragedy that, by its very nature, can never be fully mitigated. Crowe's Healy, on the other hand, is the rough and tumble sort, proud of his meat-and- potatoes approach and flaunting a rough around the edges demeanor to advertise it. Beneath the gruff is an injustice-hating Boy Scout.
The treachery-filled plot, as it unravels and thickens, reminds me of the time I was motoring across New Jersey's Pulaski Skyway, high above the smokestack spew of innumerable factories scrunched in together for as far as the tearing eye could see. On a date and ever the quippish know-it- all, I turned to the pretty co-ed at my right and scornfully uttered, "Military Industrial Complex!" To which she innocently asked, "Is it?" Hey, it was the 1960s.
I'm not sure how I responded. But as it turned out, the Flower Child generation wasn't mistaken.
The corporate, interlocking directorates Teddy Roosevelt warned of over a century ago have now successfully eluded scrutiny to the point where blatant conflicts of interest are often ignored.
Granted, it's tough monitoring this stuff, especially when the evildoers, who'd just as soon turn capitalism back to feudalism, are Teflon billionaires who support political candidates.
The little guy is exhausted, and says, unless Jefferson, Adams and good old Ben Franklin are willing to help him with his mortgage, he can no longer afford democratic principles. All of which might explain the current, unthinkable groundswell, whereas a sizable portion of the population is thinking, consciously or not, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."
Of course this film's mismatched shamuses don't feel that way. They better not. We've plunked down 10 bucks a ducat, and if we can't get truth, justice and the American Way in the manner that our forefathers prescribed, well then, we better get it vicariously. So here it is: Two brave and pretty crazy guys who, though they glibly accuse each other of being mercenary sell-outs, are no such thing. We sense the quest for liberty coursing through their veins, looking to jump out and do mankind's bidding, even if their macho/modest ambiguity won't let them admit it.
Dig beneath my philosophical pomposity and what I'm trying to say is that they are a very entertaining pair. But the relationship's key catalyst is Angourie Rice as Holland's precocious daughter, Holly, a contemporary Nancy Drew to dad's sleuthing. Channeling the bond Tatum O'Neal's Addie shared with Moses Pray in "Paper Moon" (1973), it tickles us that Holland lets the underage teen chauffeur him around. This and other whimsical touches keep the derring-do from spinning out of control while adding an odd sense of gravity.
All that said, these are two very good actors, themselves almost worth the price of admission ... if you can handle the killing and cacophony. Enjoy the synergy as the bloodhounds, cautiously deciding whether or not to trust their unintended cohort, trade glib barbs in a dueling banjoes display of thespic virtuosity. Hence, Durocher, with all due respect, at least film-wise, this is a case where "The Nice Guys" don't finish last.
"The Nice Guys," rated R, is a Warner Bros. release directed by Shane Black and stars Russell Crowe, Ryan Gosling and Angourie Rice. Running time: 116 minutes
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